“Grainger, she hasn't done anything to you. Take me instead.”
Maggie could hear the desperation in Cody’s voice. She saw the fear in his eyes as she walked toward the door.
“Sorry, I can't do that.” He shoved her through the door, shutting it behind him, never releasing her arm.
“Grainger!” Cody’s guttural yell echoed as Grainger relocked the door.
He pulled her down a dark hallway that opened to a larger room with cement walls. There was a washer and dryer in the corner and a set of stairs that led up to a closed door. There were windows situated at the top of the walls, similar to the previous room she was in, only they were dingy and didn’t let much light through. A single lightbulb in the center of the large room gave her enough light to recognize that she was in the basement of a building.
He remained silent as he pushed her to the stairs. Her fear grew with each step. She didn't know where he was taking her or what he was going to do. Hesitating, she said a silent prayer. Lord, be with me. I don't know what the future holds but You do, Lord. I'm so scared, but I know that You are with me.
“Go up.” His gravelly voice wasn't as harsh as it had been moments ago, but it wasn't as friendly as it had been in every exchange prior to today. With shaky steps, she climbed.
She didn’t know where Grainger was taking her or what he planned to do to her, but she wasn’t going to give up without a fight. She walked up and through the door, which opened into a small kitchen furnished with a stove and refrigerator. Pots and pans hung on the wall over the stove and various kitchen appliances lined the countertops. This isn’t a vacant home; someone is living here. Maybe there’s a phone I can use to call for help if I can break away from Grainger. She looked around the kitchen and couldn’t find a phone but did see a knife block to her left. When Grainger’s attention was on shutting the basement door, Maggie used the distraction as her chance for escape. She pulled a knife from the block and turned to face Grainger. He stared at her, and then he laughed.
“You’re not serious?” He pulled the gun from its holster and waved it at her. “I have a gun and you,” using the gun to gesture to the weapon she held in her hand, “have a vegetable peeler.”
She looked in her hand and sure enough, she had picked a small paring knife.
“First, you would have to get really close to do any harm with that, and second, you come at me and I’ll put a bullet in you. Now, put it down. I really don’t want to get any blood on the kitchen floor.”
She didn’t want to let go of her only protection. She knew he was right, but setting it down was like giving in to death.
Grainger aimed the gun at her leg. “One.”
She quickly ran through her options and no matter what she came up with, it didn’t end well for her. She set the knife on the counter.
“Good girl.” Keeping the gun aimed on her, he moved the knife out of reach, and then he struck her again. “Do not do that again. I won’t be so nice next time. Now, turn around and walk through that door.” He jammed the gun in her back as he pushed her toward the other room.
Her cheek stung where his hand had connected to the already sore flesh. She brought her cuffed hands to her cheek, choking back tears.
The kitchen connected to a modest living room. He shoved her down onto a couch positioned against the wall. Her gaze traveled the room, taking in her surroundings. A coffee table was situated between the couch and a television along the opposite wall, positioned in front of a large picture window. To the left of the window was a door leading out of the house.
Grainger sat next to her on the couch, so close she could smell the stale cologne he wore. He picked up a photo album off the coffee table and opened it, placing it on her lap.
She stared down at pictures of a girl and boy playing on the beach. The boy was about eight and the girl a year or two younger. In one picture, they were splashing around in the ocean. The next picture showed the children building a sandcastle. The following one was the little girl shoveling sand over the boy as he laid in a hole they had probably dug to bury each other.
“That was our family vacation to Florida when I was eight. Iris was almost seven.” He turned more pages showcasing their family vacation. Pages upon pages of photos of the two children laughing and having fun. Then some with one or both of their parents joining in on the merriment.
He turned the pages slowly, giving her plenty of time to see each photo. She looked away, not wanting to see anymore. She looked around, trying to get a better lay out of the room and her best chance of escape.
Grainger slammed his fist down on the album, causing her to jump and sending it to the floor. “Look at what you’ve done.” He screamed while picking it up from the floor. He placed it back on her lap. He grabbed her face and forced her to look at the photos. “Look at them!” His face was crimson, and his eyes were wild with rage.
She looked back down. When he turned the last page, he closed the album and opened another, placing that on her lap, too. This one contained pictures of the same children dressed as Mary and Joseph, probably three years later. Their faces beamed with the joy of Christmas. He flipped through this one, not saying a word. She fought hard to keep her attention on the photos. Grainger seemed to be teetering on the edge, and she didn’t want to do anything to push him over.
With each turn of the page, the children continued to grow. The next album showed a handsome young Grainger in a cap and gown posing with a beautiful young woman, who Maggie assumed was Iris. The next page was Iris’s graduation and various photos of her smiling and happy.
“Why are you showing me these?”
“To show you why you have to die.”
Maggie’s stomach turned. She was going to die, and she didn’t even know why. “Why? I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You have to die to show our incompetent sheriff what it’s like to lose someone he loves knowing he could have prevented it.”
Grainger picked up a remote that was lying on the coffee table and turned on the television. A video of the inside of a house started playing. The shaky video led down a hallway and through a doorway into a room that was decorated in soft purples. The camera focused on a body lying in the center of a bed. The camera moved closer and focused on a woman she recognized from the photos. The camera zoomed in on her face. Her eyes were opened wide, but they were dull and lifeless like Dee’s had been. The camera slowly panned over her entire body. Except for a burn scar on her collar bone, there were no bruises or marks to indicate a struggle. The camera traveled the length of her arm and came to rest on several pill bottles strewn about the bedspread.
“It’s not Cody’s fault Iris killed herself.” She turned to focus on Grainger.
“It is his fault, and he’s going to pay for it.”
The video travelled back to Iris’s face. Grainger paused the video and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at the screen. His grip was tight, fingers digging into the flesh of her cheeks. “Look at her. See how beautiful she was.”
“Cody couldn’t do his job, and she killed herself because of it. My baby sister is dead because of your stupid, useless boyfriend.” He let go of her face.
“I’m sorry that he’s forced me to do those awful things to you. I’m sorry he’s forcing me to kill you.”
He slammed the remote down on the coffee table. “Had he just found the guy stalking her, this wouldn’t be happening. It took me a few months, but I found the guy who did it, and I took care of that problem. Cody had the entire sheriff’s department at his disposal and still couldn’t do it. Now he’s going to have four deaths on his conscience.”
Maggie, fearing that he would kill her soon, jumped from the couch and ran to the door. Using her cuffed hands, she yanked on the knob, but it wouldn’t open. She fumbled with the deadbolt, but just as it unlocked, something hard hit the back of her head, sending lights dancing in her vision. And then the darkness clouded in.
Chapter Twenty-Six
&nb
sp; Cody had lunged from the bed, trying to chase after Grainger, but the chain pulled him back onto the bed. The door shut, and the click of the lock was so final. He let out a groan of rage and despair.
This was it. He was never going to see Maggie again, and it was all his fault. He hadn't protected her like he had promised. And now another woman was going to die because of him. Not just any woman, but the woman he loved.
His head fell back against the wall with a thud. How could he have missed it? Grainger had been behind everything this whole time. Now that he knew, little things came trickling back to him. Grainger had been the first to arrive at Maggie’s house the night they were shot at. It was because he was the shooter. That explained why Luna had gotten confused.
He’d done a walkthrough of Maggie’s house, giving him the perfect opportunity to place some cameras. He’d probably used the cameras to figure out the alarm codes. The blown tire had been a ruse to get to Maggie’s hotel room and leave the message on her bed.
He let out a frustrated scream. Maggie’s words from their breakfast echoed in his head. She was right. He wasn’t to blame for Iris’s suicide, and he wasn’t to blame for Grainger’s actions. I can’t sit here and mope. Maggie’s death at the hands of Grainger is not inevitable. I can still do something about it.
With renewed determination, he turned and grasped the chain with both hands and positioned himself to have the best leverage. One. Two. Three. He pulled with everything in him, without success. He let the chain slack a tad before yanking and pulling again, using his entire body. Every muscle screamed with tension, but it didn't do any good. He pulled until his arms were weak with exertion. He grunted through gritted teeth with every pull. Sweat rolled down his forehead.
Lord, please keep Maggie safe. Be with me and help me find a way to get to her. Sitting back down on the bed, he inspected the cuff around his wrist. It was an old metal one, three inches in width. The connecting chain was soldered on. Maybe he could break the cuff from the chain. He ran his hand between the mattress and the wall, searching for something, anything, he could use to free himself. The bed was made of what appeared to be durable metal. He felt under the mattress and confirmed that there was a metal edge slightly raised, just enough to keep the mattress from sliding off the frame.
He knelt in front of the bed and raised the mattress enough to access the edge. He grasped the lock as tight as he could and positioned the metal joint on the raised edge. He raised it up and then slammed the soldered portion down as hard as he could. Nothing. He tried a couple more times, each time with more force, and each time unsuccessful.
Breaking the cuff from the chain was not going to work. Maybe removing the chain from the wall would be more successful. He inspected the metal plate that attached the chain to the wall. Using his thumb and forefinger, he tried every screw, hoping he would be able to loosen them by hand, but it was no use. He laid on his back and delivered several well-placed kicks to the chain. All his efforts were rewarded with failure.
His whole body ached from everything that had happened in the last few hours. The wreck, the drug Grainger had injected into him, and his brutal attempts to free himself. Thoughts of what Grainger could be doing propelled him from the bed. He wasn't going to give up. He was going to find a way to free himself and then find Maggie.
He knelt back down in front of the bed and inspected the bed frame. It was the kind found in Army barracks. Maybe it was damaged somewhere, and he could pry a piece of metal free and use it as a weapon, if not to free himself. The frame was intact, though. No broken pieces, no sharp edges, nothing to aid in his escape. He lifted the mattress and found exactly what he had been searching for.
Underneath, there was a grid of wire attached to the bed with springs. If Cody could get a one loose, maybe he could straighten the edge and use it to pick the lock on the cuffs. He leaned the mattress against the wall and worked on freeing a spring.
The key in the lock alerted him to Grainger's return. He swiftly threw the mattress back down before sitting on the bed. Grainger swung the door open and stood in the threshold with Maggie thrown over his shoulder. Cody's heart plummeted. She wasn't moving. He sprang from the bed, intending to disable Grainger and get to Maggie, but the cuff digging into his arm as he stretched toward them wouldn't let him go any farther.
Grainger smirked, walked into the room, and threw Maggie's motionless body on the bed she'd occupied earlier. He turned and looked Cody square in the eye. “This is your fault. You're to blame, remember that.” He left the room again, locking them in silence.
“Oh, Maggie, my Magpie.” Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, and his chest was heavy with grief. Overcome with panic, he pulled at the chains over and over, using all his strength. The cuffs dug into his flesh. She still wasn't moving. He needed to get to her.
Calm down. You're no good to her when you’re upset and erratic. He took several long, deep breaths. He focused on Maggie. Her chest heaved up and then slowly back down. She was breathing. He watched her chest a bit longer. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.
Thank you, God!
She was okay for now. He didn't know what Grainger had done to her or if she would be okay for much longer, and his freedom was even more important now. He lifted the mattress again and grabbed a wire, giving it a tug, and it moved some. He grasped the closest grid wire and pulled it to the spring. There was just enough give that he could possibly unhook the spring from the frame.
He worked quickly to remove the springs exposing the wires. Taking a wire, he bent it until it was pointing straight up, and then he positioned the lock above the wire, guiding it into the lock of his cuff. He moved it around, hoping to move the pins enough to unlock himself. Minutes passed and nothing. He tried again with the same result.
He leaned back against the bed frame and looked heavenward. Lord, You know I love her. Please don't let me fail her again. His fingers were raw, but despite the pain, he turned back around and attempted to unlock the lock. He inserted the wire and jiggled, and as he was about to give up, he heard the satisfying click of the lock unlocking.
He shook the cuff from his hand and raced to Maggie's side. He could still see the rise and fall of her chest. Her face was pale except for a purple bruise that was beginning to form on her cheek where Grainger had struck her. He had been utterly helpless in protecting her then, but he was not going to let it happen again.
Her skin was soft and warm under his hand as he cupped her uninjured cheek. “Maggie, can you hear me? It's Cody, I'm here with you.”
She didn't respond, and there was no movement. No change in breathing patterns, just silence. He ran his hand down her arm and to her hands still cuffed in front of her. He grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it as he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Hang on for me, Maggie. I love you.”
A tear slid down his cheek. He couldn’t lose her now. “Come on, Maggie.” Bending over, he softly kissed her cheek and then laid his head against hers. He breathed in deeply, inhaling her sweet scent. “Please, God.” That’s all he could say. He didn’t have the words to pray. God knew his heart, knew that it was broken and crying out in its own painful prayer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Something warm caressed Maggie's cheek, and a familiar deep voice called to her, willing her to come back to him. “Magpie. I love you. Please wake up,” The voice, full of agony, pleaded.
She opened her eyes and stared into stunning blue eyes hovering above her.
“Oh, Maggie, thank God.”
How had she gotten back to Cody? The last thing she remembered was trying to escape from the front door.
Helping her sit up, Cody positioned himself on the bed and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into his broad chest. “Did he hurt you?”
“I tried to get a knife while I was in the kitchen, and he struck me again. He told me he was sorry. He said I was going to die to teach you a lesson.” His change in demeanor, the apology, and the remorse she could see in his
eyes had confused her. Moments before she was afraid for her life, but sitting there with him in that living room, she’d almost felt sorry for him. He truly believed that Cody was forcing him to do these horrible things, that Cody deserved punishment and the only way to accomplish that was to kill her.
“Sorry is just a word. It doesn't mean anything since he brought you back down here unconscious. We've got to get out of here before he comes back.”
“I tried to get a good look around while he had me upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes. We're in a basement. Right outside the door is a hallway that leads to the main basement area. There are stairs that lead up into a small kitchen. Through the kitchen is the living room, and the front door is on the far side of the living room. There were curtains on all the windows, so I couldn't see outside. The basement has windows like that one.” She gestured to the rectangular window at the top of the wall. “But unlike this one, the others didn't let in light. They must have been covered by bushes or something.”
“That's how we're going to get out of here. It's wide enough that we should be able to slip out. Can you walk?”
Her neck and head still screamed with excruciating pain, and she felt a little disoriented from what must be the result of head trauma, but nothing was going to stop her from walking out of there. She didn't want to leave the comfort of Cody’s arms, but she knew they couldn't stay there. Standing, she took a tentative step away from the bed. Cody was by her side, waiting to catch her if she fell. Her steps, slow at first, were steady. Her legs weren't weak, and her body wasn't sluggish.
“That's good. Once we get out, we're going to have to move fast.” He walked over to the rectangular window. “This window is big enough for us to crawl through. The best I can tell, the window is decorative and has no way to actually open. We’ll have to break the glass.”
Hidden Danger Page 17