In Safe Keeping by Lee Christine

‘He’s in a chair. He won’t be able to use the elevator.’
    Evan’s mind made the jump.
    Jesus!
    ‘What floor?’
    ‘Four.’
    He glanced up the stairwell. ‘Get out of here.’
    ‘No!’ She clutched at him, eyes wide and imploring. ‘It’s not your respons…’
    ‘Go downstairs.’ He made his voice as stony as he could. ‘You’re a slightly built woman. What are you going to do?’
    She stared up at him, eyes glistening, whether from smoke or emotion or a combination of both, he wasn’t quite sure.
    ‘Get out Laila!’
    She went.
    Evan peered over the railing and watched her go. Before stepping outside, she turned and looked up at him. Her eyes meshed with his. When she didn’t move, he made an ‘off you go’ motion with his head. The next instant, she disappeared out the door.
    Evan pulled back his shoulders, stretching out his diaphragm and sucking air through his nose like a swimmer preparing for a race. He felt in his pocket for his sunglasses, pulled them out and covered his eyes. Then holding his breath, he flung the woollen suit coat around his shoulders and raced up the stairs.
    From the street, the blaze looked to be confined to the third floor. Mike could be okay, or he could be asphyxiating from the rising smoke. Hopefully, Laila would call any moment saying she’d located him downstairs. In the meantime, there was no way of knowing his whereabouts other than to take a look.
    Evan paused on the second-floor landing, stepping aside as a couple of late evacuees came down the stairs. They looked like managers, bringing up the rear after making sure their staff had safely evacuated.
    He took a breath. ‘What’s it like up there?’
    ‘Not too bad,’ one guy said. ‘The smoke’s filtering through the air-conditioning vents. You’re not going up are you?’
    ‘Just need to check on one guy.’ He took the next flight of steps, raising his coat over his head as he passed by the fire door leading into the third floor. The air was hairdryer hot, the smoke thicker, wafting in behind his sunglasses and stinging his eyes. Holding the coat sleeve across his mouth and nose, he bolted up to the fourth level.
    He halted in the foyer, sucking marginally cleaner air into his lungs and scanning the board for the number of Laila’s office suite. An arrow directed him to the right, and he passed by an elevator with a brass warning sign stating ‘In case of fire, do not use lift’.
    At the end of the corridor, a brass plate mounted beside the door said ‘Laila Richards, Solicitor’ and behind the frosted glass, Evan could make out the shadow of someone moving around inside.
    Why would Mike voluntarily remain in the office with the fire alarms screaming and people evacuating the building? Surely, he would have gone to the stairwell where people could have helped him down.
    Evan opened the door and stepped into Laila’s waiting room. The first thing he noticed was that the sprinkler system had activated; the second was the huge photograph of a Blackhawk helicopter hanging on the wall. And behind the reception desk, a well-built guy in a wheelchair was covering the computer with a plastic cover in an obvious attempt to protect the machine from water damage.
    ‘You Mike?’ Evan asked, chest rising and falling.
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘You gotta get out of here.’
    ‘Says who?’
    ‘Says your boss. She’s downstairs — worried.’
    Mike grabbed a stack of computer leads and shoved them inside a desk drawer. ‘Who are you?’
    Evan dodged a spray of water from an overhead sprinkler. ‘A friend.’
    Mike looked him up and down, sizing him up.
    Evan didn’t flinch, just held the guy’s steely gaze as it settled on his face.
    Laila had mentioned in passing her clerk was male. That in itself wasn’t unusual in the legal profession. What was unusual was the bloke’s military appearance. He had the same hard-core look about him as Luke Neilson, Allegra Greenwood’s husband. And Will Richards had been in