LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter Six

      Now

       Blackfriars, London

      The lift takes for ever to arrive and by the time it does, Maddie is white as a sheet. I really don’t think it’s a good idea for either of us to be going anywhere near the roof, but given Maddie’s history, I know there is no way I will be able to talk her out of forcibly getting herself involved. Maddie’s father died by suicide when she was at university and she’s always blamed herself for not seeing the signs. We’ve only ever had one conversation about it because she prefers to keep her personal life guarded, but I know she was the last person her dad phoned before he swallowed a handful of painkillers. She told me that, in hindsight, she’d known something was off by the way he ended the call, but she ignored that instinct and has regretted it every day since.

      My father didn’t reach out to me before he was found hanging by the neck in HMP Portland. I try to think that’s because he didn’t want to inflict further pain on me, but I wish he had. I wish I could have told him that life without him in it will never be as bright.

      I’ll be no use in this kind of high-intensity, stressful situation, but Maddie needs a friend more than ever and there’s nobody else I can call. How many times has she been there for me when my investigation into Anna’s disappearance has stalled, or when my impostor syndrome rears its ugly head and tells me I have no idea how to plot and structure a book? Despite my personal reservations, I will stick to Maddie like glue.

      It’s a relief when the lift finally arrives on the tenth floor. One of the security guards from reception is standing guard at the door to the roof-access staircase, and he’s already told another pair that the scene is out of bounds. What is it with people wanting to gawp at a person threatening to throw themselves from a building? You see it in the movies when someone is teetering on the edge of a rooftop and the crowds gather beneath; if it were me, I’d turn and run. At best, an observer will see the person stand there for a time, until they’re talked out of the act; at worst, you’d have to watch as they plummet to the ground and then hear the sickening crunch of bone compacting with concrete before seeing the red puddle spread out from the point of impact.

      No, thank you; not an image I want to witness. There’s enough evil in this world.

      ‘Roof’s out of bounds,’ the security guard says to us dismissively.

      ‘You don’t understand,’ Maddie counters. ‘I’m professionally trained for these situations; I’ve completed the ASIST training.’

      He stares at her blankly.

      ‘It stands for Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training. And I help out on The Samaritans helpline so unless your colleague up there has dealt with a similar situation before, he’s going to need my help.’

      It’s only now that I notice how ill the security guard looks. His name badge identifies him as Clyde, though I don’t recognise him, despite my umpteen visits to Maddie’s building. Her literary agency takes up a third of the sixth floor – with its view of The Shard – but the remainder of the building is taken up by a wide variety of other businesses. There are also metal detectors and luggage X-ray machines at the entrance so security is pretty high; if this woman has managed to get through all that and up to the roof, she must either work here or have been visiting someone who does.

      Clyde now looks at me for some kind of corroboration. I have no idea whether what Maddie has just told him is true or not, though it isn’t in her nature to lie about something so serious, particularly when a woman’s life is at stake. I choose to nod and back my friend and mentor.

      Clyde takes a further second to consider his options, before stepping aside and scanning his security pass at the panel, and opening the door for us. ‘Tell my colleague what you told me about The Samaritans stuff, yeah?’

      Maddie is straight through the door without another word and whilst I admire her single-handed determination, I do wish we’d stayed put in her office below and waited for news. The stairs up to the next door are large and steep, and lead to a ladder which completes the final part of the journey. The hatch we then have to squeeze through isn’t exactly practical, but once on the other side we are immediately on the roof. The wind up here is both gusty and bitter. I close the hatch behind me and take in the immediate surroundings. The roof is largely flat with a number of vent openings, which must feed into the air-conditioning system that pumps through the building all year. It isn’t immediately apparent where the woman is – for the briefest moment I can’t help thinking we are too late – but then I catch the sound of voices carrying on the wind to our left. Maddie must hear it too as she turns and moves off in that direction without a second’s thought.

      I hurry after the blur of purple and silver as her

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