“No.” I force the word out past the bile rising in my throat. I can’t let her near Noah with that thing. “That’s another reason I assumed it was a man at first. I thought they would need to be strong to overpower the victims.”
“Nope.” Scarlett shrugs happily, like she’s just been told she’s exceeded my expectations. “They were all so trusting! Helen was the hardest. I didn’t have time to drug her, but like I said”—she mimics flicking the knife through an artery—“two seconds. Easy. I had my camera in my bag and the coat was just hanging there, so I took the belt from it and bound her up. It took me less than a minute to get a photo, and then all I had to do was wear that coat to cover the blood spatter on my clothes and I was on my merry way. Nobody noticed a thing. It was the start of something beautiful.” A menacing smile crosses her face. “Jen was a little harder, because I had to reassess my original plan, but I managed to convince Jake to go home. Then I got her to go for a drink with me. I slipped in a little something extra when she wasn’t looking, and she was very…compliant. Mostly. As was your friend downstairs. Once I told her I knew you, Alessandra agreed to see me for some ‘career advice’ this evening.” My stomach clenches at this. Scarlett has used me as a part of her plan every single step of the way. “I bumped into Noah searching for something on the green and he was desperate for company, so I brought him in with me. She was a great host and made us tea, so I had the idea to kill two birds with one stone. I drugged both their mugs and set to work creating the last two portraits at the same time.”
“You’re crazy,” Noah croaks, and I close my eyes.
We were so close.
“Is there a reason you’re not dead yet?” Scarlett sighs. “Alessandra bled out much faster than you. I suppose that’s what I get for taking my time.” Scarlett’s eyes blaze as she grabs a handful of Noah’s hair and pulls his head back.
The motion jerks Noah’s arm and the loose tape dislodges, making the needle and tube fall to the ground. Scarlett lets out a low growl.
I panic, wondering if I should charge in Scarlett’s direction, but instead I remember what I promised to do if it really came down to saving Noah’s life. I fumble with the safety cap on the paint thinner in my pocket as Scarlett brings her knife-wielding hand around to Noah’s throat. I wriggle my shoulders and let my jacket drop, allowing the contents of the bottle to seep into the fabric. I eye the candles surrounding Scarlett. I don’t need a lighter after all. No, this is much better.
“Sorry, Dad,” I say.
And then I throw the jacket at her.
“What are you doing!” Scarlett’s voice is muffled as the soaking denim hits her face. She tears it away, flinging it to the ground close to the candles.
She doesn’t see the paint thinner go up in flames until it’s too late.
“No!” Scarlett screams, throwing herself at the paintings and dropping the knife as she does. I dive toward Noah.
“The knife!” he shouts.
I kick it in his direction, away from the jacket, which is now burning so intensely the candles around it are melting, their wicks catching, flaring. I keep one eye on Scarlett as I run to cut Noahfree, but she’s distracted, trying to gather up her macabre Polaroids before the flames devour them. Fire is starting to lick at her clothes, but I can’t stop; I have to concentrate on Noah. I don’t think when I pick up the knife, and it takes a split second before I feel the heat from the metal handle searing into my hand as it glides through his bindings. I scream in pain and drop it as the smell of burning flesh fills the air. Noah stares at me in horror, but I shake my head.
“I’m fine. Can you walk?”
“I think so,” he says, and I duck my head under his arm, trying not to look at the charred skin on the knife handle.
Scarlett is nowhere to be seen, and I don’t know if she has run for the stairwell or if she’s looking for something to put out the flames, but the fire has fully engulfed the paintings. We pass them and I feel the heavy weight of guilt in my stomach for ruining the priceless artwork that means so much to so many people, including my dad.
We make it out onto the balcony and have almost reached the stairwell when the door bursts open and several officers swarm us. I hold up my hands on instinct, pain searing through me as the air hits the open wound on my palm. I bite back the pain and point toward the gallery. “She’s in there.”
The officers stop as one. “She? There’s another victim?”
“No,sheis the killer!” I yell in frustration, but my voice is drowned out by an inhuman scream that erupts from the gallery, a sound that curdles the blood in my veins.
Scarlett appears in the doorway as a tower of flame and lunges onto the balcony, her blond hair blazing around her head as shestretches out her arms. Frozen to the spot, I watch in horror as she hurtles toward me, her burning hands almost reaching my throat when a strong arm pulls me out of the way, and I fall to the floor. The inferno soars past me, close enough to scorch my skin as I scrabble away from her. Scarlett’s body hits the waist-high glass of the balcony instead of me, but that doesn’t stop her, and her feet leave the floor as the momentum carries her over the top. Arms wrap round my shoulders and I bury my head as a strangled scream fills the air, followed by the sickening slap of Scarlett hitting the tiled foyer two stories below. I break into loud, racking sobs as the arms tighten around me.
“I’ve got you, Fliss,” Izzy whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you.”
FORTY-THREE
The sky glows with thepink tinge of impending sunrise, streaming in through the glass ceiling as though last night never happened. I watch numbly as a host of police officers, firefighters and paramedics bustle around the Heywood Gallery. The air smells of smoke and something else that I don’t want to think about but that might be trapped in my nostrils forever.
“Will you let someone look at that hand now, please?” Izzy appears beside me, fussing with the gray blanket wrapped round my shoulders.
I huddle further into the plastic folding chair that one of the attending paramedics conjured up from a storage cupboard. I’m not allowed to wash my bloody feet until they’ve been processed for evidence, so instead I sit here, refusing to take my eyes off thesheet-covered mound in the foyer.
“Has Noah been seen to?” I ask, not answering Izzy’s question.
“He was checked over a bit ago and they took him to the hospital in an ambulance because he’s lost so much blood. He should be there now.”
I finally look up at her. “How was he?”
“I’m not sure.” Izzy sighs and grabs a second folding chair,gesturing for me to share the blanket. I open it with my good hand and let her scootch close to me. “He told me to fuck off.”