Page 64 of The Midnight Carousel

Without wasting a second, Laurent grabs Maisie’s hand and pulls, following Arnold and the others through a gate and to a sheltered spot near the big house. There are only moments to spare. The carousel groans, followed by a rumble and a creak.

‘Get down,’ he barks.

An almighty explosion rocks the air. Flying upwards are splinters of wood accompanied by chunks of metal glinting like shooting stars. If what has happened is what Laurent suspects, he will need to warn Maisie. Sir Malcolm should be present as well.

‘Is Sir Malcolm in the house?’ he asks her.

Her eyes widen and tears spring up.

‘No.’ She is gasping, struggling for air.

Gently, he lays a hand on her arm. ‘Slow and steady breaths.’

She exhales deeply. ‘He rode the carousel and never came back one night.’

A wail of loud sirens approaches as a procession of emergency vehicles screams up the driveway. Dozens of heavy-booted men jump from four fire trucks. Reluctantly, he tears himself from Maisie’s side, leaving her in Arnold’s care, and seeks out their leader.

‘Detective Bisset from Paris,’ he says in introduction to a burly man as they reach the edge of Silver Kingdom. ‘There’s something else you need to know before your men go in.’

Laurent waits on the sidelines for the firefighters to extinguish the cluster of fires. They battle against a furious wind barrelling in from the lake that pushes the flames to ever greater heights.

His gaze keeps straying to Maisie, sitting on a bench and surrounded by staff.

He now notices that her hair is shorter than before, styled sleekly in a way that is fashionable these days, and her dress shows the lower part of her legs– the ‘flapper’ style, he thinks.

She has blossomed into herself. Her face is older and wiser, and there is a newfound strength beneath the vulnerability in her eyes, as though the years have given her beauty infinite layers of depth.

Eventually, water vanquishes fire as the sun goes down for the evening, leaving a scarred mess of decimated stalls and rides. Stepping through the debris with care, Laurent cuts a jagged route to the carousel. The firefighters have made a discovery. Now to see it for himself.

‘What brings you to America, Detective?’

He swings around to find Maisie has followed him.

She regards him with the same weariness that he has felt himself during the years of their separation.

He still cannot tell if he is forgiven, nor whether she has read his latest letter.

Laurent thinks of the countless other letters he has sent in the past four years.

All those words of restrained passion poured into the missives that perhaps she chose not to see.

He hesitates to inflict further anxiety. But she is not a child; she deserves the truth, no matter how unpleasant. And she will find out soon enough anyway.

‘I believed you could be in danger.’

A look of surprise dances across her face. ‘You knew there was going to be a fire?’

He takes a deep breath.

‘Not from a fire, no, but the carousel. The horse, to be precise. I believed you might disappear.’

Maisie is silent as she looks towards the heap of charred wood piled around the metal platform, torn open by the force of the explosion. Without warning, she steps past him and ascends the partially melted step. He follows close behind.

Peering into the chasm, the sight is more gruesome than Laurent could have imagined. This is where the murder victims have lain hidden the entire time.