How To Hide A Body

Shots Fired

It had been obvious from the start that Steve McQueen had a touch of the dramatic in him. But when his huge oak door creaked open by itself, it was overkill.

I walked in first, then Bart, while Cléo remained positioned in the door frame. Behind the red door was a long corridor. It was painted the same colour as the outside of the house. At the end of the hallway was a round, red stain glass window, which let some rose rays of light pierce through the darkness of the indoors. Amongst the shadows, I made out a figure at the end of the hall. Wearing a fedora and a suit, the slim figure of Steve McQueen was silhouetted in the fading glimmer of the sunlight shining through the front door. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment!" the figure said, gleefully.

"No offence, I thought your voice would be deeper." I said, trying to mask my intensifying anxiety behind sarcasm.

"I thought you would be smarter." Steve McQueen riposted.

"Ok, checkmate." I agreed. Steve McQueen didn't waste any time in drawing out a weapon. In the dim light, I saw that he was pointing a rifle at me. Just a couple seconds later, Bart drew his own gun and fired a shot. The figure immediately crumpled to the floor and let out a cry.

Deathly silence filled the room. It felt severely disappointing. Was that it? Is that all it took to kill the Steve McQueen? One single bullet? Was it over now?

I strained my ears for a noise. Laborious breaths echoed throughout the room. So, not dead yet, I thought, that was ok. I needed answers, anyway.

I turned to Bart and Cléo behind me, who were both eyeing Steve McQueen with increasing suspicion. Then, the figure began to weep. The figure started convulsing with every sob, making my chest feel empty. It was not Magnus Hoffburg. It couldn't be.

I walked over to the figure, who was curled up on the oak floorboards. A dark liquid, which I guessed was blood, pooled around them. I placed my one hand on their shoulder and removed the fedora with the other. The figure's head turned to face me, as red locks tumbled down her shoulders, escaping the confines of the hat. I gasped and immediately stumbled backward. She swallowed her sobs and stared at me with her bloodshot eyes.

"I wondered how long it was going to take you to find me," she whimpered, her voice still slightly unstable from sobbing. Her mascara left black stains as tears trailed down her cheeks. As she clutched at her abdomen, I got sudden flashbacks from the Catacombs.

"Rachel?" Bart asked, coming towards us. He collapsed to his knees and engulfed her in his arms. He drew back slightly, when he found her blood staining his shirt but he shrugged it off quickly. "Are you okay? What did he do to you?" He asked, his own voice cracking. When he realised that he was the one who had shot her, he began muttering a million apologies.

I didn't move. I couldn't believe it. Magnus had kidnapped my own personal assistant from under my very eyes. Rachel rolled up her sleeves, revealing scarring and redness and purple bruises peppering her arms. Still, that harm was nothing compared to the bullet wound Bart had left in her stomach. I felt a tear run down my cheek.

I knelt down next to her and took her hand and whispered dangerous promises. We were going to bust Steve McQueen. Then take her to the nearest hospital and have her treated for all her wounds, give her a shot of tequila to calm her nerves and then a week in the Bahamas to recover. Bart stroked her hair as she burst into another fit of tears and wails. Cléo didn't leave the doorframe. She was tense and her eyes flitted around the room, expecting a fight.

Rachel took some shaky breaths and said, "He kidnapped me. He came to the house and he asked after you, a couple minutes after you had left for Saffron Waldon. I thought he was a client. I told him I would take a message. Then he asked me to come outside and look at his car, since he thought he had punctured a tire. He wanted me to call a mechanic or someone to fix it. Then he tasered me and shoved me into his car. He chained me to a radiator and beat me as he asked me questions about you. Like where you were or what you were doing. I didn't know anything, but he didn't believe me so he hit me over and over again-"

"It's over now, Rach," Bart whispered, still stroking her hair. I saw her reach into her pocket. She must be freezing. I turned to Cléo, who was eyeing Rachel carefully.

She left her post and wandered into the room, closing the door behind her. "Cléo, I told you to stay outside," I warned.

"Sol, there's something off-" she started. I watched as her eyes went wide in shock.

Everything happened in slow motion. Cléo screamed. Rachel whipped her hand out of her pocket. She pressed the gun to Bart's chest. Bart pushed her out of his arms. She pulled the trigger. Bart fell backwards and let out a cry. His shirt turned red. I scrambled towards Cléo. Rachel fired another shot. Cléo grunted and fell to the floor behind me, clutching her shoulder.

I jumped up from the floor and kicked Rachel's pierced abdomen. She tumbled backwards screaming in pain. I grappled the gun out of her hand. I shot her. She didn't move. Neither did I.