Page 54 of Payback

“In that bed with his mother?” asked Blake.

“Charlotte mentioned a basement,” said Henry.

A tight fist of apprehension clenched my stomach. “What if he’s already down there, lying in wait?” I could imagine him happily telling his mother to stay at Edward’s and using her time away to snatch me. My mind conjured up images of being suffocated to death, then melted in a bathtub of acid. “It rained last night. What if he got fed up with sleeping in his truck and snuck home?”

“One of us will stay on the downstairs landing while you and the others go down and investigate,” said Blake.

“I’ll go down with you.” Henry balled his hands into fists. “If he’s there, he won’t last long.”

Worry rippled through my insides. Henry and Mr. Carbuncle were both of an even height, but while Henry had the build and musculature of a heavyweight boxer, the former caretaker was built like a mountain gorilla and likely had the strength of the criminally insane.

“Are you sure you can take him on?” I whispered as we descended the creaky staircase.

His blond brows rose. “You doubt me?”

“Mr. Carbuncle is a man on the run. He’s got nothing to lose.”

Blake placed a comforting hand on the small of my back. “I’ve seen Henry fight four rugby players and still come out looking pretty. He can handle Carbuncle.”

“Don’t call me pretty.” Henry strode to the end of the darkened, downstairs hallway.

We reached a set of stairs that led underground. Blake huffed and folded his arms. “Between Emilia’s fretting and Henry’s semantics, we’ll be here until Carbuncle comes to pay mummy dearest a midnight booty call.”

I wrapped my hand around Henry’s, and we walked down a set of rickety wooden stairs. The surface of the wood crunched under my feet, making me wonder if it meant woodworm. What we stepped down into was more like an underground pantry than the dungeon of a psychopath. Wooden shelves lined one side, mostly laden with cleaning supplies and empty preserve jars.

“That’s where he must sleep.” Henry pointed the flashlight of his smartphone at a folded z-bed propped against the wall, which was mostly covered in blankets.

Next to it stood a chest of drawers. I crossed the room and opened the first one. Photos filled the entire drawer. One of them was from the Valentine’s party. I lay on the four-poster bed, kissing Henry on the mouth while Blake sucked on my collarbone. Every ounce of blood drained from my face. “How did he get this?”

Another photo had been taken through the window of Edward’s study. I was naked and bent over, Henry’s head was between my ass-cheeks, my free hand gripped Blake’s erection, and my lips were wrapped around Edward’s prick. A cold mix of fear and disgust skittered over the lining of my stomach and climbed up my gullet. I gulped several mouthfuls of air and clutched the drawer.

“Two sets of people are supplying him with photos,” I gasped out. “The Correspondent, and someone with access to the academy.”

“What the fuck?” Henry grabbed handfuls of photos and stuffed them in the bag.

Shaking off my speculations, I filled Henry’s bag with photo after incriminating photo of myself and the triumvirate. Even if it was evidence vital to a case against Mr. Carbuncle, I didn’t want pictures like that of me circulated anywhere.

The other drawers contained old clothes, worn shoes, and faded porn magazines of women with 1980’s bouffants.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!

My heart jumped into my throat. It was Mr. Carbuncle!

“This way!” Henry yanked me up the stairs. At the top, he grabbed Blake and ushered us to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Blake pulled out his credit card and tried the back door. He couldn’t wedge it open. “F-fuck!”

“Mum?” Mr. Carbuncle shouted through the letterbox. “You in the toilet?”

Henry kicked aside the doormat and found a key. Blake swooped down and picked it up.

BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!

Each knock on the front door reverberated through my bones and chilled me to the marrow. “Hurry!”

Mr. Carbuncle groaned. “Don’t make me have to go back to the car to get my keys!”

Blake unlocked the door. I shoved it open and let in the fresh air. The overgrown lawn stretched a hundred feet to a row of spruce trees that formed a green barrier. Heart ticking like a bomb about to detonate, I sprinted between Henry and Blake through knee-length grass to the end, where we fought our way through the trees’ dense, pine-scented foliage. Behind them stood an ivy-covered brick wall even taller than Henry.