Free Darkest Place by Jaye Ford Page A

yet. Or with Howard Helyer? Maybe storing keys was part of his job. And so far he’d been bad at his job.
    What about Talia’s friend, Brooke? Carly hadn’t seen her, either, but she was a woman on crutches, it wasn’t her in the loft last night. Maybe Brooke had a key and gave it to someone. To break into her friend’s apartment and scare the new owner? Carly shook her head; that made no sense. Maybe someone stole it from Brooke.
    Carly stopped at the kerb opposite the warehouse and eyed the east wall. There was nothing fancy about the facade; it had been a storage facility, built for function, not charm. The brickwork was a flat face, no ledges, no cornices, no architectural features that could be used for a foothold. Not even the balconies protruded, their metal railings strung across openings that had once held windows and delivery doors. There were pipes running down from the roof but they were positioned at the corners, well clear of the nearest balconies. The apartments inside ranged from one- to four-bedrooms and were configured like Lego bricks, mix-and-match sizes that fitted together to make the most of the shape and space. It took a momentfor Carly to find her own: second storey down from the top, three railings in from the corner.
    A long time ago Carly had climbed up and abseiled down sheer faces with Debs, Jenna and Adam, and in training with the Rural Fire Service. For thirteen years she’d barely let herself think about it or the person she was then – her stomach was churning now as she looked the wall over again with a climber’s eye. She wouldn’t trust her own body to do it, but it was doable. With ropes. Possibly without, if you were good. And confident.
    She steered the car back into the road and kept going to the hardware store on Baxter Street. A shop assistant took twenty minutes to talk her through the options and sizes. The one she chose, he told her, wouldn’t stop a determined intruder but they’d need boltcutters or brute strength. In other words, a large tool or a lot of noise, which was very different to creeping around with a key.
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    The first shriek from the drill Carly had found in the storeroom ricocheted around the atrium like a primal scream. She released the trigger, opened the door and glanced warily around the corridor, worried about complaints – then decided that letting her neighbours know she was installing some security wasn’t a bad thing.
    She drilled until her ears rang and her head felt like it was about to explode, then inspected the doorjamb. Barely a dent in the timber. She tried again, same result. Ten minutes later she still didn’t have a hole deep enough for a screw. ‘Shit!’ She stalked the hallway and back, hands shaking from the force of the vibration. She’d used a drill before, what the hell was she doing wrong? She gave the door a thwack with her hand.
    It knocked back … and Carly jerked away, the shadow of a man flickering through her mind, the lurch of the mattress rocking through her body. Lifting the drill, she held it like the hair dryer, wishing the security chain was already in place.
    â€˜It’s Nate,’ came the voice through the door.
    He’d been awake and dressed at four in the morning. The police had asked him to leave and … Carly glanced at the drill. The screeching must have filled his apartment too.
    She opened the door enough to flick eyes over him. Jeans, long-sleeved T-shirt, possibly the same outfit he was wearing at her door during the night. ‘Sorry about the noise,’ she said. ‘It shouldn’t take much longer.’
    He gave her and the tool a once-over. ‘Want a hand?’
    Yes. No. ‘I’m installing a security chain.’ It wasn’t an answer, it was making sure he knew.
    He waited a beat. ‘Not that I don’t think you can do it.’
    She smiled a little. He’d probably heard her swearing and