by Peg Brantley
Blood was dripping from her wrist to the floor of their cell.
Jamie backed against the wall one more time, then sprinted hard. The door warped. Enough room to work with. She brought out the carpenter’s nail, and morphed into lock-pick mode. After a minute or two, Jamie checked Jax’s pockets and pulled out the ME Security Card that allowed her access to the building and her lab. She began to work the two. Ten minutes later, she and Jax were still trapped. She had never felt so all alone, responsible and unequipped.
Jamie pushed herself. She cursed the movies she’d seen that had made this look easy. Jax’s security card snapped in two, the larger piece flipping through the slotted opening. Damn. She pinched hard on the remaining small piece of the card in her left hand while she maneuvered the nail with her right.
Something clicked. The door bumped open with an enormous clang, then stopped. A chain link and lock had pulled tight.
Jamie focused on the next step. She’d gotten this far.
She pulled the door to get some slack in the chain and prayed hard the sound hadn’t carried to wherever Blanton had gone. Her clenched heart pounded against her chest as she fingered the padlock to slip it from the chain. Twice she lost her hold on it and twice it came close to locking up again.
With the calmness of a surgeon, she pulled her hand away from the lock, swallowed and took a deep breath. She clenched then spread her fingers in a yoga move she’d heard about. Starfish. Relax. Starfish. Do this.
This time, her fingers moved through the opening like they’d been greased. Steady—her wrist remained limber. And she lifted the lock, palmed the chain, and carefully pulled it through. Freedom. Now to deal with her sad sack of a sister.
“Jax?” She knelt before the deadweight and turned her sister’s face so she could see it. “Jax? C’mon, girl. Wake up.”
Nothing.
Jamie put her hands under Jax’s armpits and hauled. The first couple of seconds were hard, but she finally got both traction and momentum. She pulled her sister out of the shed and onto the open floor of a building under construction.
She laid her sister down, then went back to close the door and reattach both the chain and the lock, careful to pick up the larger part of the plastic card that had fallen through. Jamie could only hope she put it together the way Blanton had left it. What if he counted the links or something? No telling with the kind of crazy we’re up against. The padlock snapped into place.
She dragged Jax behind a huge pile of drywall. She whispered, “Jax? Jacqueline Angelique Taylor, wake up!” She popped her sister’s cheeks with her palms. “Wake up! You need to wake up!” Tears spilled from Jamie’s eyes. “You need to wake up now!”
Jax moved her head, then slid back under whatever blanket the drug had covered her with.
Jamie pinched her sister’s arm. “You cannot do this! Wake up, Jax! I need you to be awake!” What the hell am I doing? Jamie knew how to work with her dogs. She knew the secret of good risotto. She knew how to put a loan package together. She knew how to clear a clogged drain, change engine oil, and even replace roofing tiles. She had absolutely no idea how to get away from a mad man.
Jax stirred and opened her eyes.
Jamie started, then stared. “C’mon, Jax! We need to boogie!”
Jax laughed. “Boogie?”
“Cut it out. We need to go, and without making any noise.”
“Go where?”
Okay. Between a drunk-acting sister or a dead-acting sister, I’ll take the drunk. “Good question. Do you think you can walk? Run if we have to?”
“Yeah. Let’s boogie.”
Jax took off, heading back toward the storage shed.
Jamie caught her and grabbed her hand. “This way.”
Jamie kept a tight hold of Jax’s hand and they sprinted for what Jamie thought was the back of the building, looking for any kind of escape. The sunlight had shifted in the last few minutes. Darkness would not help them in a building that was under construction and that they knew nothing about. “There... a freight elevator.” She pointed and Jax nodded. They ran between steel studs that marked where walls would one day be erected. Even in her haste, Jamie noticed the bird’s-eye view of Sports Authority Field.
Twenty feet before the elevator, Jax stumbled and fell.
Jamie helped her up. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just banged my knee.”
Jamie thought, More trace evidence just in case. They had to use whatever they had, and right now, skin cells just might be at the top of the list.
The freight elevator made a rattling sound as it roared to life.
Chapter Sixty
“The stairs.” Jamie pointed toward a corner of the building. “Quick.”
The freight elevator rumbled, getting louder.
They slipped into a dark stairway and stood, fighting to control their breathing. Jamie wished they could see, but she didn’t dare open the door even a crack. Instead, she tried to see with her ears, an old trick her dad taught her when they went camping. She closed her eyes and listened.
The elevator jerked to a stop and the doors slid open. She heard a loud tap, but the doors didn’t close. Someone had pushed the button to hold them open.
Jax grabbed at Jamie in the darkness.
Jamie held her sister’s arms and squeezed. “Shhh.” She focused her concentration back to what was happening in front of the elevator.
Someone rolled out a four-wheel cart. It bumped over the space between the elevator and the building floor. She heard boxes being shifted, a low grunt, and what sounded like a dolly joined the cart. Finally, two soft thunks, like duffel bags landed, another loud tap, and she heard the doors slide closed.
It had to be Blanton, and he was alone. She listened as he hefted something, probably one of the duffels, and began to whistle as he walked away.
Jax began to pull her down the stairs, but Jamie wanted to wait a few seconds longer and try to get a look at whatever Blanton had felt necessary to haul up to this floor by himself.
She leaned close to her sister’s ear. “Go slow. I’ll catch up.”
Jax nodded and for the first time since they’d gotten out of the shed, physical contact stopped. Jamie moved closer to the door of the stairwell and nudged it open. The sound of the Blanton’s whistling grew louder.
Jamie scanned the items on the cart and tried to read the labels on the three boxes stacked on a dolly, not understanding what she saw, but feeling certain someone else would. She eased the door closed and moved down the stairs toward her sister.
“Jax?” Jamie whispered for her sister. “Jax?”
Jamie’s eyes were either beginning to adjust to the pitch dark or she imagined they were when her foot hit something soft and she reached out, blind as a ghost fish.
Another body broke her impact on the landing. Warm. Jax? Who else would it be? Jamie knelt and ran her hands over the heap on the floor. Sticky blood! Okay, okay. Calm down. Head wounds bleed a lot, and not all head wounds are fatal head wounds. She felt Jax’s head and couldn’t feel any major cuts. “Jax, listen to me. I need you to stand up. Can you stand?” Jamie grasped under her sister’s arms and pulled.
Jax moaned.
“C’mon girl. Up. Help me.”
“How, um... “
Jax pulled her arms away and pushed herself to a kneeling position while Jamie steadied both of them.
“You’ve hit your head. I don’t think it’s bad, but Honey, we don’t have time to deal with it now.” Jamie held a firm arm while Jax stood and straightened.
With clarity and force, Jax said, “Let’s go.”.
Jamie had never loved her sister more.
After they’d hit a few more landings, Jax began to lag. “How many more floors do we have, do you think?”
Jamie figured they had been between fifteen and twenty stories up when they’d begun their descent, but she couldn’t tell her sister. “One or two, I think. Maybe three. We can do this.”
Less than
three minutes later, Jamie had to support Jax and drag her down the steps. She had to rest at every floor landing and massage her arms. She pushed aside the temptation to check her sister’s head wound at every stop. Nothing I can do about it right now anyway.
The darkness became a blanket. Security. Her steps stayed sure and regular, even as her arms quivered under the strain.
When they finally reached the ground floor, Jamie dropped to the cement and leaned her back against the concrete wall. Harsh breaths, spaghetti limbs and fear were the only things holding her up. She sat in the dark and tried to think. If Blanton went back to the storage shed, he knows we escaped, but I haven’t heard the freight elevator. Maybe he’d been moving his supplies to a different location on the open floor of the building, and hadn’t yet gone back to the small unit in which he’d held them captive.
She arched her neck to try to push out the tension. She forced her arms to stretch. God, I want to cry... be with my dogs... light a fire... talk to Ellen.
She tried to put together their next move. Once they got outside the building, then what? She didn’t even know where they were.
Up the stairwell—how far she couldn’t tell—Jamie heard a whistle.
Chapter Sixty-One
Jamie cracked open the door leading outside to let in a little light. She looked around quickly, trying to determine where they were. A sign on a closed door about ten feet from theirs read Fire Command Center. Must be in the back of the building. She found a rock to wedge the door open, then turned her attention to Jax. “C’mon, now. Let’s get this show back on the road.” Tears were rolling down Jamie’s cheeks. She had used up everything in her arsenal to get them this far. She didn’t have anything left.
Somewhere out there, safety beckoned, or at least a chance at safety, but Jax remained unresponsive and Jamie would not leave her sister.
The whistling continued, but louder.
Jamie pushed the door open wide, moving the rock to hold the weight. She grasped Jax’s hands and pulled, leaning backwards out the door. One step. Two. Another. Another. Almost cleared now.
How far could she hope to get this way, a few inches at a time, getting weaker with each step? Any minute now, Blanton would appear in the doorway and it would all be over.
Jax pulled her arms. “Stop.”
Jamie kept tugging.
“Stop. You’re hurting me!”
A scream began in Jamie’s gut and unfurled like some gigantic sail inside her. She punched it back down to a manageable size and continued pulling her sister to safety.
“Jamie. Stop. Let me try to walk.”
Jamie dropped her hold on Jax and fell to her knees. Jax faced her, mirroring her position. Jamie put her arms around her sister and hugged her, then checked her head wound.
“You’re not bleeding very much anymore. Are you dizzy?”
Jax shook her head. “I’m leaving Phil.”
“It’s about time. But for right now, we’re going to move. I know you can do this. There’s nothing but houses on this side of the building, but I heard a lot of stop and go traffic, and where there’s stop and go, there has to be a lot of people. We’ll get help.”
On their feet, arms around one another like marionettes in a macabre dance, they limped across the parking lot. They stayed away from the building and in the dark perimeter.
Twice, Jax went down. Twice, Jamie got her back up. Words of encouragement sugared the air each time. The traffic noise became louder, its promise of safety wrapped in the roar of engines and smell of exhaust. She saw a Denny’s sign high in the sky, and the unmistakable outline of Sports Authority Field, the Bronco’s home stadium.
Jamie squeezed Jax’s arm and hissed, “Stop!”
The sisters froze, then stooped as if to burrow into the darkness.
Their breathing seemed explosive to Jamie, even against the sounds from the busy street, and she fought to calm hers. She strained to both listen and see into the distance.
Eyes stared in her direction with an otherworld glow. A cat decided the two humans weren’t of much interest and moved on into the growing shadows.
Jamie sighed. “Sorry. A little jumpy, I guess.”
“I’m good with jumpy.”
Quiet giggles softened the night and they moved on, dodging around the odd car left overnight in the parking lot. Or maybe they belonged to construction workers who were working late. Jamie and Jax skirted past an Aston Martin DBS. Who would leave such an expensive car parked anywhere other than under a light? At the very least, Jamie would put out traffic cones to keep anyone from getting close to it.
Ten feet past the luxury sports car, a soft click sounded. Then a whistle. “Ladies, please. Don’t leave on my account.”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Blanton was leaning against the car door, but he was anything but relaxed. It was as if he were playing a role. What she noticed most was the gun pointed in their direction.
“Teague, just let us go. As far as we know, you haven’t really done anything wrong.”
“It all depends on your definition. I’m pretty sure most people would consider murder wrong.”
Jamie had trouble catching her breath. Will he shoot us out here? Now? Probably not, but the traffic noise was so loud, people would just think a car had backfired. “Sure, Teague. I agree with you, but the only thing Jax and I know for a fact is that you kidnapped us. It could be some kind of prank... a joke.”
“Well, so let’s be clear. I’m responsible for a lot of deaths.” He gestured with the gun, and when they didn’t move right away, he said, “Including Ellen’s. Now move.”
Jamie’s anger seemed to stretch her skin. She would gladly risk a bullet to attack Blanton and draw blood, but Jax was injured and still a little drugged.
Her jaw clenched, hands ready to fight, Jamie turned her back on the man she had been close to falling in love with and marched back to the high rise construction. She waited a split second to make sure her sister was following her.
Jamie’s mind bumped wild with questions, and a flash of inspiration hit her as they walked back toward their prison. She tracked backward rather than her natural inclination to track forward. If someone pieced together anything at all in Aspen Falls, maybe found the scarf she’d left behind at Blanton’s, they could be on their way to Denver, presumably with more than one potential target area where they could be found. She prayed they would bring some dogs.
Jamie tripped and fell, hard. She scraped both knees on the asphalt as well as an elbow and the palm of one hand. The sting and burn gave her hope. Blood and skin... things dogs would understand. It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Nick directed a team around to the back of the house. The perimeter was in place, the only vulnerable area the rear exits that led to the national forest.
The process of elimination had led them to this house. After Scott Ortiz, the local vet, met with Jerry Coble regarding his findings, things kicked into high gear. A biological threat, especially one like saxitoxin, warranted swift action. Homeland Security had come through with all of the warrants they needed and had covered all four homes.
The three other homes had been cleared. One owned by a Hollywood celebrity turned up empty, literally. Another, owned by a European finance guy, was still sealed tight until ski season. He wasn’t exactly happy to be contacted in his London office by the FBI, but a call to his caretaker enabled them to do a quick search of his property. Other than a weird proclivity toward enormous statues of men with erections large enough to lift small buildings, they found nothing. The third home turned up a New York Times bestselling author. She was so completely engaged in her manuscript that the team had entered her property, cleared it room by room, and finally found her working away at her computer, naked, noise canceling headphones clamped to her head. Nick guessed that the shock of finding three assault rifles trained on her would somehow find its way into one of her
books.
So here they were, at house number four, prepared for battle. The HazMat team was on stand-by as they had been through the last three searches.
Nick readied his mike to give the signal to the sheriff’s deputies behind the house, held his right hand high in the air and took a controlled breath.
“Now!” He slammed the hand down and all hell broke loose. Controlled hell, but still enough heat and energy to bring whomever might be inside to their knees, hopefully without any weapons in their hands.
Nick’s back cried out with a phantom pain. An oxy or six would be good right about now. He pushed through the need and focused. Lives were at stake, including his own.
“Clear!” The word echoed through the main level of the home. Nick moved in, eyes cataloguing the expensive furniture, rare art and precise detail without any personal expression.
Rapid Spanish preceded a short, heavy-set woman into the room. The agents, gripping either arm, hauled her toward him.
“No sé, no sé!” The woman shouted over and over, intermixed with a jumble of words that included “Madre de Dios” and a few other selections.
Nick looked at the young FBI agents. “Escort her as gently as you would your grandmother to that chair right there, and nod your heads as you let her go after she sits.”
Nick looked at the woman, dignity and fear warring on her face.
He all but knelt in front of her. “Señora, por favor. Please. You are in no danger. We are here to look for something your employer may have been using to hurt people. Something secret.”
“Secreto? Clandestino?” Her eyes lit up with hope. Survival. Sometimes it makes the world go round. The proud woman looked at him like he was an idiot.