by Hunt, Angela
“Hey there.” Eddie grins down at her, his blue eyes shining in a narrow face. “You ladies called for a cab?”
“Thank heaven you came,” Michelle says, unwilling to look away. She will name her children after this man; she may mention him in her will. “I was beginning to think we were the only people left in the county.”
“Are you done up there?” Gina’s strained voice rises from beneath Michelle’s feet.
“Sorry.” Her cheeks burning, Michelle steps back to the floor, careful not to jolt the elevator.
Gina stands and brushes dust from her hands. “Thank you for coming,” she says, her tone polite as she glances at the man on the roof. “I’m sure it’s rough out there on the streets.”
“Elevator jockeys live for danger,” Eddie says, grinning. “And I didn’t have anything else to do.”
Gina crosses her arms. “Still, we appreciate you coming. No one else around here seems interested in doing his job. You’d think that the security guard or the building manager would stick around to make sure everyone had been properly evacuated.”
Michelle listens in disbelief as she reties her sneakers. How can Gina complain to a man who has risked his own safety coming to rescue them?
Either Vaughn doesn’t notice Gina’s attitude, or he doesn’t mind her grousing. “Okay, ladies, it’s like this,” he says, glancing up. “Due to what looks like a power outage, you’ve stopped between the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth floors. Unless you want to take your chances and hope the power comes back on, you can let me get you out of here. But because I don’t have a ladder, this extraction might be a little tricky.”
Gina looks down and mutters under her breath. “I knew it. The man isn’t equipped to do the job.”
Michelle glances toward the elevator panel, where only the dim emergency light burns. “Do you think the power might come back on?”
The brightness of Eddie’s smile diminishes a degree. “Who knows? It could cut in and out all day, or it may stay out three weeks. But I don’t think you want to wait that long.”
“But—” Michelle points toward the roof “—if we’re up there and the power comes on, we could be knocked off. You might be some kind of elevator cowboy, but I’m not about to ride one of these things.”
Eddie laughs. “Don’t worry, even with power, the car won’t move if the door or the ceiling exit is open.”
Michelle nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Wait.” Gina steps forward again, her arms folded as tight as a gate. “What will happen if we stay put? Let’s suppose the power comes back on and the hatch is closed.”
“Well—” Eddie rubs his chin “—that all depends. If the car has lost touch with its controllers, it will probably return to the lobby. But since I didn’t program these cars, I’m not sure what they’ll do.”
Gina shoots Michelle a sharp look, then retreats to her corner.
“My plan,” Eddie continues, ignoring the redhead, “is to bring you up through this exit. From here we can step down to the landing and from there we can take the stairs. The stairs are situated in the interior of the building, so we’ll be sheltered from the impact of the wind. The stairwell, in fact, is probably the safest place to ride out the hurricane.”
Michelle cuts a quick glance at Isabel, who has retreated to the back wall and is hugging herself. She doesn’t look at all thrilled about climbing into the darkness of the elevator shaft.
Gina brings one hand to her hip. “Why can’t you open the elevator doors and let us step out? That would be so much safer.”
Eddie shifts his gaze to her face in an oddly keen look. “That’s not the best option in this situation.”
“Please, Mr. Vaughn, don’t patronize me. If you want to play George of the Jungle, that’s your affair, but I think I’d prefer to simply jump down onto the landing.”
Eddie looks away, showing his teeth in an expression that is not a smile. “The situation is not as simple as you think. Right now I’m sitting about eighteen inches above the twenty-eighth floor. You, ma’am, are standing about four feet above the twenty-seventh. You may think it’d be easy to jump onto that lower landing, but you’re not realizing that most people tilt backward after jumping from above. Ordinarily, I’d have a ladder in place to block the open shaft, but I’m fresh out of ladders and you’re fresh out of luck. Because I’d hate to see you fall into the hoistway you’re so desperate to escape, I’m recommending an exit through the roof. I don’t mean to seem disrespectful, ladies, but I doubt any of you want to go to the bottom all that quickly.”
“I get it,” Michelle says, a flood of gooseflesh rippling up each arm. “Say no more.”
“Believe me—” Eddie meets her gaze “—this rooftop hatch is the safest way out. And I’m here to lend a hand.”
Michelle looks at Isabel, whose eyes have gone darker and rounder. “Do you understand?”
The girl nods without speaking.
Michelle tips her head back. “So—without a ladder, how are we supposed to get up to you?”
Eddie leans into the car and points to the silver rail on the back wall. “You can help each other up like you did before, with the pyramid. If necessary, use that railing to support your weight as I pull you out.”
“Wait a minute.” Gina steps under the opening and glares up at the technician. “I understand how two of us could lift someone up and out. I can even see how Isabel here could lift me up—I’m not that heavy. But I don’t see how the last woman can get out without a ladder. Your arms aren’t that long, Mr. Vaughn.”
One of Eddie’s hands locks around a thick nylon strap across his chest. “See this? It’s my safety harness. I can take it off and pass it down to the last woman. It’s hooked to a lanyard, which is attached to a brace. I can pull the last woman up.”
Gina’s face remains locked in neutral for a moment, then she arches a brow. “I suggest you send the harness down now,” she says, iron in her voice. “After all, you’re used to elevators. We’re not.”
Michelle feels a sudden wave of pity for the man. If he’d known he was braving rising winds and crashing waves to rescue a shrew, he might have refused to leave home.
Eddie blinks, then focuses his gaze on Michelle. “You want the harness, too?”
She cuts a look to Gina, whose gaze remains resolute. “Um…well, I’d probably feel more secure with it on.”
“I would like the harness.” Isabel’s soft comment slips into the silence. “The lady is right. I would be scared and I might fall. But if I can wear the straps, I will be brave enough.” The cleaning woman steps up and peers at the rectangular opening in the ceiling. “For Rafael,” she whispers, “I will go first.”
Without another word, Eddie unsnaps the clasp at his chest and wriggles out of the contraption. “Don’t ever let it be said that we don’t aim to please.”
A moment later, a tangle of blue nylon drops into the elevator car. Isabel stoops to pick it up, then frowns at the jumbled mess.
“Step into it,” Eddie calls. “Circular straps around the legs, one strap across the lower back, buckle across the chest. Adjust to fit.”
Gina steps aside and chews on a fingernail as Michelle helps Isabel into the contraption, then holds up the remaining loose end.
“That piece,” Eddie says, dropping a line through the opening, “hooks to this lanyard, which is attached to the crosshead. Anything connected to that piece isn’t going anywhere the elevator’s not going.”
“Whatever you say,” Michelle says, reaching for the line. She snaps the carabiner at the end of the lead to the D-ring of the harness, then gives Isabel a reassuring smile. “Snug as a bug in a rug.”
“¿Qué?”
“Never mind.” Michelle steps back, then turns to Gina. “Going to help me boost her up?”
Gina shrugs. “Might as well.”
“Okay.” Michelle links her hands and bends her knees, bracing herself for the young woman’s weight. “Do you remember doing this whe
n you were a kid? You step into my hands—”
Isabel snorts softly. “I know how to do this.” She places one crepe-soled shoe into Michelle’s locked fingers.
“That’s good,” Eddie calls. “Now put your other foot in the other lady’s hands.”
After Gina laces her fingers together, Isabel brings her right foot up. Slowly, as the trembling housekeeper clings to their shoulders, Michelle and Gina straighten their knees and lift Isabel toward the technician’s outstretched hand…
A tumult of breaking glass and growling wind shatters Michelle’s concentration. From somewhere close the dog barks while a roar echoes through the shaft, trembling the car. Isabel recoils from the hatch and Eddie pulls his hand from the opening. “Hang on, will ya? I think a window shattered. I’ve got the doors propped open, so it’ll take me a minute to check things out….”
Michelle hears the solid thumps of his departing steps, then something jolts the car. Isabel topples forward, falling away from the other women, and the dangling lanyard slaps Michelle’s cheek. She looks up, hoping Eddie can provide an explanation, but the shaft is now alive with creaks and flaps and the yawning stretch of metal. Eddie, she realizes, has stepped away and she hasn’t felt his returning tread on the roof, but suddenly there he is, his face appearing and vanishing in the open exit, accompanied by a flash of green that rustles as it passes by…
Was that a potted palm?
The technician’s hoarse cry blends with a canine howl and Isabel’s terrified shriek. Through the roaring din, Michelle breathes one name: “Eddie?”
Her rescuer does not answer.
She shrinks back as raindrops fall into the car, flung by a teasing wind that howls in the elevator shaft. Cold sweat prickles beneath her arms and her heart pounds like a trip-hammer as glass pebbles and sheets of paper rain through the open hatch.
After a fierce assault, the wind retreats and the debris stops falling. But though her eyes keep returning to the rooftop opening, Michelle sees no sign of Eddie Vaughn.
She covers her face with her hands, exhales slowly and peers through her fingers at the others. Like a panicked fish on a hook, Isabel struggles to free herself from the safety harness, then curls into a knot at the back wall.
In her corner, Gina’s face has gone idiotic with shock. “Is he—did he—”
Michelle closes her eyes and watches the scene replay itself on the back of her retinas—the invasion of a wind so strong it slammed the elevator against the wall of the shaft and hurled debris at the man who had come to save them.
She covers her mouth as a fresh wave of nausea strikes.
CHAPTER 17
Gina feels her own gorge rise as the sound of the brunette’s agonized retching fills the car. She looks away, hiding the look of revulsion that has to be on her face, but the combination of Michelle’s vomiting and the maid’s weeping is straining her nerves. She will scream in a minute; she will open her mouth and release the frustration that has been building since this morning….
No. She can’t lose control, not here, not now. Unlike her mother, who used to become apoplectic if the dog peed on the carpet, Gina has never been prone to hysteria. Life is filled with unfortunate events and a confident woman learns to accept the bad with the good. What you cannot change, you accept; what you cannot accept, you change.
Which is why she’s going to make an adjustment in her marriage as soon as she is released from this elevator.
If she is released from this elevator.
Reminded of the nasty event that has brought them to this low point, she lifts her head and peers at the ceiling. What, exactly, happened to the repairman? From the horrified look that twisted Michelle’s face, Gina surmises that the brunette saw him fall down the shaft. In any case, he’s gone. The opening in the ceiling now reveals nothing but a thin stream of gray light.
She strains to listen for signs of life outside the car, but she can’t hear anything but the howl of the wind and the occasional patter of falling debris. No cries or moans. Even the dog has gone silent.
The technician probably died on impact. She’s read about people who survived falls from incredible heights, but Eddie Vaughn didn’t look like the type to beat the odds. More scarecrow than Schwarzenegger, he is more likely to be sprawled at the bottom of the shaft than hanging from a loose chain or climbing his way up an elevator cable.
Too bad. He’d been foolish to come out here alone and unprepared, but he had been chivalrous enough to give up his safety harness—a fact she’ll have to mention to the reporters after their release. He probably thought he could rescue them with no trouble, but the easiest person to deceive is oneself….
She draws her knees closer to her chest, suddenly aware of a trembling that has risen from her core. Why is she shivering? The stale air in this car is anything but cool, yet still her heart rattles in its cage of ribs.
She considers the question, then a sudden thought almost makes her laugh aloud—had she been secretly hoping the mechanic could get them out? If so, her subconscious must be more childlike than she realized.
All morning common sense has informed her that they are going to spend at least a couple of days in this car. They’ll have to talk about practical sanitary arrangements soon, but those matters can wait until after the other two have finished with their emotional tantrums. Until they accept reality, she will focus on those outside this awful elevator.
Her children are safe at home, thank goodness, and Sonny is probably wrapped in his mistress’s arms. Justice would be served if the hurricane flattened the woman’s building or blew it out to sea, but today fate seems to be stacking the odds against the wronged wife, not the adulterer.
When she glances at her watch, her nervous concern shifts to an urgent and more immediate fear. By now, the kids are awake and moving around. Have they realized she’s missing? Have they made calls to locate her? They know nothing of the private investigator’s report hidden under her mattress, so they might assume she’s gone to be with Sonny. The poor dears have to be worried.
She can’t stop fretting about them. Have they heard that it’s wise to stay inside and seek the safety of interior rooms when the hurricane moves ashore? Does Mattie know that the emergency radio is in the laundry-room cabinet? The house is new; the windows guaranteed, but what if the garage door buckles? Because one component failure can lead to another, one little worm of wind can snake its way in and rip off a roof….
She’s done all she can to protect her darlings, but often the greatest danger occurs after a storm has passed. Matthew could go outside and step on a downed power line; Mandi or Samantha could drink contaminated water or eat spoiled food from the freezer.
Gina chews on her thumbnail as a dozen questions rise to needle her brain. Why did she leave the house this morning? Sonny is a cretin and deserves to die, but when people hear that she’s missing, they’ll whisper that any woman who would leave her children in harm’s way has to be the world’s most irresponsible mother.
It isn’t true, and yet…though this admission would sound absolutely outlandish if she spoke it aloud, until the elevator stalled she had enjoyed every moment of her morning. For the first time in years, she has taken charge of her predictable life and made bold plans without Sonny. She has even—
She glances toward the other women, then turns her face toward the wall, unwilling that they should glimpse her thoughts in her eyes. She can’t admit this to anyone, but neither can she deny it.
Even this disaster has exhilarating moments.
A man has died on her account. How often does that happen? And though she feels awful about Mr. Vaughn and admires his willingness to help, he suffered the results of his own foolhardy actions. If he wanted to remain safe, he shouldn’t have surrendered his harness to the Mexican girl.
Just as Sonny shouldn’t have stolen from his children. But he did. And so, like Eddie Vaughn, he will reap the results of his own foolishness.
She lifts her head and checks on t
he other women. The maid has fallen silent except for an irregular sniffle; Michelle has finished retching and is wiping water from her eyes. She does not lift her head at the touch of Gina’s gaze; the woman is probably embarrassed. Who can blame her?
Gina rests her head against the wall and retreats into her own private thoughts. Moving slowly, so as not to attract attention, she lowers one arm to the fabric square that is her folded trench coat. Her fingers tiptoe through the folds until she finds the opening to the bulkiest pocket, then her hand slips between the layers and curls around the cool metal of the gun.
The trembling at her center slows and stops. She inhales a deep breath, lifting her chin as the future sharpens into focus.
She will get out of here. She will handle the publicity, make sure her children are safe. And then she will deal with Sonny—she will find a way to take him completely, permanently, out of their lives.
“I think,” Michelle says, her voice jagged and jittery, “this is the most frightened I’ve ever been in my life.” Her gaze catches and holds Gina’s. “Are we ever going to get out of here?”
“We certainly are.” Gina smiles to reinforce the note of confidence in her voice. “It’s only a matter of time.”
For the first time in weeks, Gina thought she could feel a tinge of autumn in the evening breeze. She stood with Samantha at the foot of the bleachers as other parents and students filed by. The crowd, engorged with joy at the Gaither High Cowboys’ win over the Sickles Gryphons, chattered and laughed as they emptied the stands and moved into the night.
Gina leaned against the chain-link fence around the football field. Matthew had played his heart out, bringing a smile even to Coach Higgins’s sour features. He’d scored two touchdowns, running the ball over thirty yards each time. The fans had gone wild each time, pounding each other and stomping on the benches until Gina thought she and Samantha were likely to bounce out of their seats.
She slipped her fingers through the links and stared at the gold goalposts. Sonny should have been here.