Shock Wave

by Dana Mentink

  “With prenatal vitamins in his pocket,” Trey finished.

  Sage imagined that time stilled at that moment, the air of the theater thickening around them, pressing the truth home. It could no longer be chalked up to her wild imagination or the product of her lingering trauma. “Barbara,” she breathed. “Barbara is here. Fred was keeping her in the basement.”

  “But the phone call,” Rosalind burst out. “How did that happen?”

  “The cops are overwhelmed right now. They took a message that Barbara called, but it was probably someone using her cell phone. Maybe Fred had a woman friend make the call.”

  Rosalind passed a hand over her eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

  Trey grunted. “He hasn’t been dead more than a few days.”

  “Barbara has been trapped down there the whole time.” The realization sizzled through her. “Antonia was right. Derick wanted to get rid of her. Fred was working for him.” It was what she’d known all along, but saying it aloud made her feel sick. Barbara’s husband. The man she’d loved.

  Rosalind’s mouth thinned into a fierce line. “You’re wrong. Derick wouldn’t do that.”

  “Then why did he sneak out and come in this direction?”

  “Someone else snuck out, too, remember? Antonia. He might have been following her,” she snapped back. “Listen to me. I can’t explain the details here, but I know Derick Long better than anyone alive. I am telling you he would not hurt his wife.”

  “He’s an actor,” Trey said. “He’s paid to make people believe something that isn’t true.”

  Rosalind’s eyes flashed. “Don’t patronize me, Captain Black. I’m a smart woman and I’m well aware that Derick is not the man you see on the screen. I’m telling you he didn’t hurt his wife and that’s because I know him inside and out.”

  Trey didn’t back down. “Maybe you just think you do.”

  “I spent my share of time dazzled by the whole smooth talking, charmer persona, but you can’t work for someone for fifteen years and not see the real person. You’re wrong about him. You’ve just got to believe me.”

  “Not now,” Sage said. Urgency burned inside her. “We can sort it all out later. For whatever reason, Fred had her trapped in the basement and the Imperial is flooding. We have to get her out.”

  Trey was already pulling on his pack. “Fastest way is to go back through the hotel tunnel and hope...”

  Sage knew the rest. And hope it wasn’t underwater along with Barbara. She forced herself to take several pictures of Fred’s body with her phone for the police to use later. Was she preserving the image of the man who might have caused the death of Barbara and her babies? The thought made her skin prickle and she realized she was holding her breath.

  Trey pulled a piece of fallen curtain from under a pile of rubble, sending dust motes roiling through the lobby. He draped it over Fred’s body, gently pushing Wally away. Rosalind knelt and held out her hand to Wally, crooning, but the dog remained curled in a shivering ball at his fallen master’s side.

  “Emiliano,” Trey called into the radio. “Get the police if you can.” He told him about the murder.

  Murder. Sage’s mind was still foggy with disbelief. Derick was a killer. Why did it not seem real to her now, after she’d spent the past weeks worrying about that very scenario?

  Trey shouldered his pack and called to Wally, who refused to come, so he scooped him up, murmuring soft words of comfort into his ears and kissing the top of his head. The image took her breath away, the muscle-bound soldier who she knew was hard as granite on the battlefield, cradling the little animal tenderly in his big hands. Part of her warmed inside, a place that had been cold and numb for what seemed an eternity. Trey was not perfect, he’d let down his brother and carried the shame of that with him just as she would always bear the burden for Luis. But he had moved on. Conquered that obstacle. Allowed himself to live and love again.

  Her eyes swam, but there was no more time to consider the irony further as they emerged into the misty dawn. They retraced their steps back to the hotel where they met a grave-faced Emiliano.

  “We need to get into the basement,” Trey said. “What is the fastest way?”

  “I only know one way and that’s through the storage room at the end of the tunnel, the one you said was wedged closed.”

  “Then we’ll have to unwedge it this time,” Trey said.

  Emiliano nodded and darted outside, returning seconds later with a slightly rusty ax. “This will get you through the door, but if there’s flooding...”

  “I know. It may all be underwater.” His eyes flicked to Sage.

  She felt an unexpected sense of calm. “I understand what we’re facing here.”

  He reached out a hand and she read the message in his face.

  You don’t have to come. I’ll take care of it, and if she’s alive I’ll bring her back.

  She let the pressure of his fingers squeeze strength and faith back into her. “I’m going to try to face it, however it turns out.” She swallowed against a thickening in her throat, the fear licking at the edges of her certainty. She thought about Barbara and her babies, pictured Luis’s fallen body, broken and dying. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough.” She cleared her throat. “If I can’t...can you go it alone?”

  He surprised her with a smile that lit his whole face and quickened the pulse throbbing in her throat. “I’m pretty handy when things go bad, but I happen to know we’re not alone in this anyway.” He pressed the tips of her fingers to his lips, sparking trails of something like joy directly to her heart.

  When she found her voice again, it was barely audible. “Because He’s already overcome the world?”

  Trey’s smile broadened. “Without a doubt.”

  “I’m going to try to remember that.”

  With one final squeeze of her hand, he let go, snapping back again into Captain Black, the man who had made her heart flutter at their first encounter.

  Rosalind clutched Sage’s arm. “I’m going, too.”

  “Why?”

  Rosalind blinked at the floor before answering. “I think Derick is down there.”

  “You know he’s involved in Barbara’s disappearance, don’t you?”

  Rosalind ran a hand through her hair, splaying the bangs into an untidy wave. “No, I know nothing of the kind,” she said as she asked Emiliano for a pack and headed toward her room. “I’m just going to grab some things from my purse.”

  Emiliano soberly accepted a wriggling Wally from Trey. “He’s been through a lot. Don’t let him wander away, okay?”

  “I’m only a temporary guardian, right?” Emiliano said, eyeing the dog with suspicion. “My wife has three crabby cats and they’d tear him apart, so I can’t keep him.”

  Trey laughed. “No worries. Wally’s got a home with me. He’ll love the mountain cabin I’m going to build as soon as this disaster is over.”

  A lance of pain shot through Sage’s heart. Trey would be gone soon. Of course. She hadn’t been expecting anything else. The lightness in her soul evaporated.

  So what’s the problem, Sage? You didn’t expect him to stick around anyway. She checked her flashlight to make sure the batteries were working and ran to catch up with Trey’s long strides as he headed down the hallway to the ladder.

  Rosalind fell in behind, close as a shadow as they descended, the cold shock striking Sage’s legs as she stepped off into water that was well over her knees. The sound of the waves lapping against the brick walls reverberated, echoing crazily and throwing off her sense of equilibrium. Her flashlight showed broken bits of wood floating by. Drops plinked down onto the surface, teasing ripples into the water, one finding a target on Sage’s temple before sliding down her neck. They waded slowly, their feet stumbling on hidden obstacles as they progressed past the ope
ning that had led them earlier to the elevator shaft.

  Darkness, uncertainty, guilt and regret hummed inside her, as unexpected as the massive earthquake. She felt as if she was right back in Afghanistan, holding Luis’s hand again as the life leaked out of him.

  I’m sorry, so sorry.

  Memories welled up to drown her. Ripples of fear working their way along her spine until she heard Trey’s words rumbling through her memory.

  ...part of us stayed behind with the ones who didn’t get to go home, a little bit will always be with them because they blessed us and we won’t forget that. I wouldn’t want to.

  She forced another image into her mind. This time it was Luis laughing, telling one of his famous cornball jokes that amused him no matter how many times he shared it. And she realized with a start that Trey was right, part of her would always be with Luis, just as his generous heart and gentle spirit would remain with her. Luis had blessed her. And it was a gift.

  Tears stung her eyes as she felt the horror roll back from her heart. “Thank you, God, for Luis,” she whispered.

  Rosalind looked at her sharply. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” she said, turning away from Rosalind’s probing light to wipe her eyes.

  It was an extraordinary place to grab hold of that bit of peace, pressed in on all sides by danger and ruin, and as welcome as a light in the darkness.

  * * *

  Trey stopped at the storage room door and gave it an experimental kick. It was still firmly wedged, impervious to the rising tide of water. Sage held his pack and Rosalind shone the light on the door while he shouldered the ax.

  “Step back,” he ordered, earning a sniff of disapproval from both women. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Sorry. Step back...please,” he corrected.

  They sloshed back several paces, and he swung the ax at the door. As he swung again and again, he prayed to the rhythm of the strikes, asking for protection for Barbara and her babies and for Sage, if Barbara and her children had not survived the earthquake and ensuing flood. There was also the matter of a murderer on the loose, but he could not seem to rid his thoughts of the tenuous courage he’d seen in Sage back in the hotel. The hope it awakened in him eclipsed everything else and he desperately wished that what lay behind the door would not cause her to lose it.

  The ax triumphed over the heavy wood and a hole began to appear, widening until the door disintegrated altogether. He put the ax aside and pushed through the water, which mercifully had not risen past his upper thighs. With all three of their lights combined, he could just make out the ceiling, a scant four feet above his head. The area smelled of rotten wood, probably from the shelving that both clung to the walls and floated in pieces in the water around him, and the tang of something familiar tugged at his senses. The basement itself spread out into two passageways, each marked by a once regal-looking stone arch, now ribboned with cracks and marred by missing stones. Beams of worm-eaten wood ran along the ceiling of both passages.

  Slicks of iridescent color floated on the surface of the water.

  Sage splashed by him, casting her light over the far wall. It sparkled with remnants of the gold paint long ago used to create an experience for theatergoers. “I don’t see anything,” she said.

  “That’s right,” Rosalind agreed. “Absolutely nothing to indicate Barbara was held down here. It’s all hogwash.”

  “Hogwash didn’t kill Fred Tipley,” Sage shot back.

  Trey noted Rosalind didn’t even try to respond to that one.

  He examined the bits of debris bobbing around him for anything that would indicate Barbara had been there and came up with nothing. Sage splashed toward the two passageways. “We’ve got to go farther in.” She cocked her head at Trey. “Which one?”

  Rosalind pointed to the left tunnel. “That one.”

  Trey’s senses prickled. “What makes you think so?”

  “The right tunnel is boarded up about six feet back because of an earlier collapse.”

  Trey waded into the supposedly blocked tunnel. “No offense, but I’d like to see for myself.”

  Rosalind might have looked slightly uneasy, but Trey could not be sure in the dismal light. “Suit yourself,” she said.

  Keeping the flashlight out of the water, he edged into the tunnel. Above his head, he could see busy termites trailing along the old wooden beams and still the faint smell he could not put his finger on danced across his senses.

  Sage splashed behind him and he risked a look. Her face was serious and anxious, but strong at the same time. Something swam by him and he jerked back.

  Sage laughed. “Just a rat. He’s not much bigger than Wally.”

  “Funny,” he said. “Maybe I should take it home so Wally can have a pal.”

  They turned the bend in the tunnel and sure enough, a few feet back the tunnel was walled over with a heavy planked door. The bottom three feet was darkened by the water slapping against it.

  “You see?” Rosalind said. “Just like I said.”

  Trey shone his light down to examine the iron knob. “I can go back and get the ax if we need to.”

  “Do—?” Sage stopped abruptly.

  His muscles tensed. A shout? The three of them froze. All he could hear now was the sound of his own breathing, the irregular dripping of water. A clang came from somewhere he guessed was west of their location.

  “It’s coming from the other tunnel.” There was no time for caution now. Trey fought through the water, causing waves that splashed up across his shirtfront. Sage tripped over something and went down, popping back up by the time he’d turned to help her. She stood, completely soaked.

  “I’m fine. Keep going,” she gasped, slicking her hair back from her face.

  They made it to the main room and set off down the other tunnel. The water was still at thigh level as they churned along, passing stacked crates and rolls of canvas swollen and toppled, which Trey shoved out of their way. Along the top of the tunnel was a six-inch ledge of decrepit wooden shelving crammed with wooden boxes. He caught the glitter of feathers protruding from one broken box, and in another, a gleam of light-colored fabric that might have been an opulent costume in days gone by.

  “Barbara wanted it all catalogued,” Sage panted as they fought their way through the water.

  “A colossal waste of effort if you ask me,” Rosalind said, holding her pack. “It’s all ruined by the years and damp, what the rats haven’t gotten into.”

  Trey didn’t respond, but he knew Rosalind was right. A bunch of decaying costumes couldn’t be worth a nickel, and Barbara’s passion to restore every inch of the place would be ruinously expensive. Rosalind and Barbara would be at odds over it. So would Derick and Barbara. And Antonia? He shoved a floating crate out of their way. He still wasn’t sure how she fit into the whole mess. Keeping to the middle of the tunnel to avoid both the debris and the skittering rats that scurried along the wooden shelves over their heads, he zeroed in on a door at the end of the passage.

  At first he thought it was closed, shut up tight like the other had been, but as they neared he saw it was held open about six inches by a section of metal rod. Above the rush of the water, he heard it again, a shout that sounded desperate or angry, he could not tell which. The moment he ducked under the rod and squeezed through the door, he nearly went down as a strong current almost took the legs from under him. He yelled a warning to Rosalind and Sage as he fought his way through the swiftly moving water.

  In spite of the heads-up, Rosalind lost her footing and floundered. Sage and Trey grabbed hold of her, but it cost Sage the flashlight, which was whisked away by the flow before either of them could snatch it up.

  Rosalind shook her soggy fringe of hair. “Thanks,” she gasped. “What’s going on in here?”

  “There must be a lower level
where the water is heading,” Trey said, beaming his light. The chamber was similar to the other, complete with wooden shelves and a full complement of rats. The rear of the chamber was screened by a mound of interlocked debris, which had been a shelving unit at one time but now was a floating screen, collecting the detritus propelled along by the current. Something bumped against his thigh. It was metal, a gas canister.

  A woman’s voice sounded high and shrill from behind the debris. “Don’t let go!”

  The panic carried the words over the moving water and the pulse roaring in his own ears. Fighting the current as if it were the enemy itself, he churned through the dark mass, edging past the hulking ruins.

  SIXTEEN

  Sage tried to keep her body from being swept past Trey, who had stopped as if electrified. She looked around his broad shoulders and her heart leaped to her throat. Antonia was braced against a brick pillar as Derick tried to pull her away. Sage stumbled forward and Trey’s light brought the tableau into clearer focus. Antonia was not trying to escape Derick Long, but to save him.

  His lower body was immobile, trapped in something she could not see below the water. Only his upper torso rose above, his eyes so wide with terror that the whites showed eerily in the darkness.

  “Help me,” he shrieked. “Something is cutting into my legs.”

  Antonia clung to his wrists. “I can’t hold on. He’s slipping.”

  Sage and Rosalind splashed forward immediately, grabbing hold of his wrists just as Antonia lost her grip and fell back. Afraid to let go, Sage was relieved when Antonia erupted quickly from the water coughing and heaving in a breath.

  “He fell through something,” she gasped.

  Trey threw his pack to Antonia and disappeared under the water. He emerged a moment later. “It’s a floor drain. His leg is caught on some rebar. I’ll have to cut him out.”

  He took a deep breath and disappeared back under the surface.

  “Just hold on,” Rosalind called.

  Derick moaned. “I tried to fix it. I tried so hard.”