Page 56 of Jazz

“Fucking nothing right now,” I answered honestly. “Apart from if you don’t eat something…”

“You’ll do what?”

“Fucking feed you it myself,” I rose from the seat and walked to the big chest of drawers on the far side of the room.

Floorboards creaked under my feet. Every fucking thing creaked in this house. Including the stairs.

The stairs.

I stopped. My hand outstretched, just about to grab the plate with the remnants of pizza left on it. That creak again.

Baz had said he’d given his wife sleeping tablets, so unless she was sleepwalking, or they hadn’t worked, there was someone else here. Fuck.

Chapter Thirty

Even in the shadows, I could see his body tense. He was poised. Listening. All I’d heard was the creak of the stairs. The old house settling around us.

Chase had mentioned food. And now my stomach grumbled loudly.

“Jazz, quiet,” he warned.

“Like I’ve got any control over that,” I retorted, feeling a pang of irritation over that sharp stab of hunger.

“There’s someone in the house.”

I stared into the darkness, unable to read Chase’s expression.

“Baz?”

“He’s at work.”

“The wife?”

“Fucking hope not. He drugs her every night to stop her wandering around while he’s not here.”

Fuck. I reached across to the bedside cabinet, snapping on the lamp. An orange glow filled the room, shadows chasing over the walls. The tassels that dangled all around the base of the lampshade swung wildly, and now those shadows took on a life of their own.

“Turn it off!” Chase hissed, flapping his hand at me.

“What? Why?”

“They’ll know what room we’re in.”

“There’s only a choice of two, for fuck’s sake. We’ve got a fifty percent chance they’ll come here first.”

Chase scowled at me. I could see him clearly now that the room was lit. His hair flopped over his forehead, more stubble darkening the shadow already on his jaw.

“Fuck’s sake,” he growled, striding towards me.

I pulled the duvet up to my chest, bracing myself for an impact that didn’t come, but the light shut off, with an echoing clunk at my left. Chase opened the door a crack, the light in the hallway shone through, replacing the light from the lamp. The lamp that was now in his hand, upended and held over the top of his head.

The footsteps outside the room grew louder. They were at the top of the stairs and getting closer. Chase breathed, relaxing his arm, pushing his forehead against the door.

“Chase. Chase,” the hoarse, urgent whisper was familiar.

“What’s going on, Baz? Thought you’d just gone to work.”

“The Rats…” he trailed off, gasping for breath. “They were at my work when I got there.”