Serial Escape

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  But once they’d inched forward over the broken tile, made their way to the corner, and Lucien leaned forward to take his surreptitious look, he realized that no surprises wasn’t on the menu at all.

  Chapter 12

  When Lucien didn’t lean back right away, Raven took an automatic step closer.

  “Wait,” he ordered.

  His tone wasn’t particularly urgent, but he did lift an arm to block her way. She halted because she didn’t have any choice. That didn’t stop curiosity from propelling her to bend over his elbow. What she saw made her gasp. And she understood why Lucien hadn’t pulled back. Just ahead—bathed in dim light from a cracked, very small, very dark-tinted window above—was a gaping hole that spanned the majority of floor. She knew, also, why he’d blocked her from moving forward. Another few incautious steps, and one or both of them might’ve fallen straight in.

  But what’s it doing there? she wondered.

  She quickly scanned the space, searching for an explanation. The light filtering in through the cracked window illuminated a few things. The first was simply that the space around the corner was just an open room. Not huge. Maybe eight feet by eight feet. It had no doors, and no other exit. The second was a pile of dirt—almost to the ceiling, and spreading out the length of the back wall—on the opposite side of the hole. The third thing was shovel, propped up in a corner. Its presence made Raven’s hands want to curl into nervous fists. The fourth and final thing that she saw in her quick visual sweep was an oddity. A rock. Almost baseball shaped. Sitting on the ground right in between the wall with the window and the hole itself. For a second, she just stared at it, puzzled. Then it hit her.

  The shattering glass we heard before... Jim.

  She didn’t realize she’d said it aloud until Lucien answered her.

  “You’re right,” he said, his tone dour. “He’s gotta be down there.” He edged into the room—careful to keep a ways back from the hole—and called out, “Mr. Rickson? Can you hear me?”

  There was no answer.

  “Mr. Rickson?” Lucien repeated, his voice a little more urgent. “My name is Detective Match, and I’m here to help.”

  Raven waited tensely for a response, her eyes roving over the space again, and her mind working.

  Hanes had dug the hole. Somehow, someway. Probably not starting with the shovel, but undoubtedly finishing with it. Then he’d dropped the caretaker into the pit. But Jim hadn’t given up. Maybe he’d taken a random chance. Or maybe he’d heard their approach. Either way, Raven was certain that the older man had tossed the stone up toward the window in a last-ditch effort to draw attention to his whereabouts.

  So why isn’t he saying anything now?

  “Jim!” Lucien said it sharply, paused for a moment, then turned back to Raven. “I need to go in.”

  She knew without being told that he didn’t just mean the room. She swallowed. “How?”

  He swung back to the dimly-lit space and tucked his weapon away as he scanned the area. “There’s gotta be something in here I can use. A rope? Wish we had just a bit more light, so I could—”

  She didn’t wait for him to finish. She knew if she disclosed the idea that had popped into her head, he’d protest. So she didn’t bother. Sweeping past him and ignoring his half startled, half concerned curse, she made her way to lip of the hole where the rock sat waiting.

  Up close, the space between the wall and the hole was smaller than she expected. Two feet wide, at best. And the hole itself was a strange draw. Her eyes wanted to hang there. To sink into the blackness, even though it made her heart thump-thump-thump three times faster than it ought to be going.

  One wrong move...

  She knew it was only seconds that ticked by as her thoughts tumbled in, but the world felt slow just the same.

  Had Jim experienced the same raw terror that she had? Was it lessened because of the shorter period of time? She tried to remember if the first hours had been the best, because she still had hope, or they were the worst because of the immediacy of it all. She honestly couldn’t say. It all blurred together in a mess of hopelessness, fear, resignation and desperate optimism.

  And does it really matter right now?

  She could hear Lucien calling her name. Warning her to back up. To let him do whatever she was trying to do. He was moving toward her now, too—his feet shuffled on the broken ground—but with far more caution than she’d taken. He muttered something about getting both of them killed, and Raven realized with a start that he was right. If both of them tried to occupy the narrow space, at least one of them would wind up in the pit with Jim. And not in the way Lucien was planning.

  She forced her gaze away from the hole. Moving quickly and surely, she bent down and grabbed the rock from the ground. She fixed her gaze on the crack in the tinted window, drew back her arm and threw as hard as she could. The glass exploded outward with a surprising force. The light in the room quadrupled, making Raven blink as she tried to adjust her vision to accommodate for the sudden onslaught. Breathing out, she lifted her gaze to Lucien.

  “Better?” she asked.

  His expression—which she could now see perfectly—was unimpressed to say the least, and his reply was flat. “Your idea was good. Your execution was more than flawed.”

  “It worked out okay.” She tried to make it sound light, but she could tell that Lucien was genuinely frustrated and worried, and guilt tickled at her. How would I have felt, if he’d jumped toward the hole with no warning?

  She took a step in his direction, an apology on her lips. But her sorry was swept away as her foot caught on a piece of broken tile. Her arms flailed, her heart dropped and the world swam as the two-foot gap between her and hole became two inches. She wanted to scream, but her throat was both raw and closed at the same time, and no sound came out. She just barely managed to gain control of herself in time to scramble back from the edge of the pit. Without even thinking about it, she threw herself straight in Lucien’s chest and buried her face in his shirt. His hands came up immediately—one to hold her close, the other to run soothingly over the back of her head.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair.

  Her mouth worked in silent surprise for a second before managed a muffled response. “You’re...what?”

  He pulled back, his familiar brown gaze fixing intently on her face. “I’m sorry. I said I needed more light, and you came up with a plan to get it. You didn’t tell me the plan, because you knew I’d fight you on it. I don’t want you to keep doing rash things because you don’t trust me to listen to you and be reasonable about it.” He touched her cheek with his thumb. “Forgive me quickly so that I can get to Jim.”

  Heat crept up Raven’s face, and not from the caress. In the panic, she’d momentarily forgotten their purpose in being there—her purpose in her mad dash to the rock.

  “Forgiven,” she said, not bothering to waste time arguing about having nothing to forgive.

  He stared down at her for another heartbeat, then leaned forward. Raven braced herself for the warm, firm feel of lips. She tingled with the anticipation of it. But in the end, he just gave his head a small shake, stroked her cheekbone once more, then stepped away.

  * * *

  Even though he could feel Raven’s eyes following him as he took a look around, Lucien made himself focus on searching out a solution for getting to Jim Rickson. He didn’t curse himself for not seizing the moment and kissing her. Maybe it was counterintuitive or contradictory, but in the split second when she’d teetered on the edge of the manmade hole, a flash of something unexpected had slammed into him. A sense of future. Instead of fearing that they couldn’t have one and being infused with a slap of carpe diem, he was overcome with the realization that he wanted the long haul. Which was the exact reason he needed to get to Hanes and put the man back where he belonged. Preferably as quickly as possible.

>   After a moment of searching, his eyes landed on a piece of coiled rope, and—shoving aside the uneasy sensation that Hanes had left it there deliberately—he stepped toward it, snagged it up then scanned for a place to anchor it. Almost too quickly, he found the perfect spot—the bottom of an exposed beam in the wall beside the dirt pile. There was no chance the concrete hadn’t been carved out there on purpose, and as much he hated to do exactly what Hanes clearly wanted him to do, he didn’t see another option. The only positive about the smug preplanning was that Lucien was sure there would be no sabotage. Gritting his teeth because he was unable to stop himself from picturing Hanes’s stupid smile, he swung the rope around the beam and tied a secure knot, then gave the nylon a hard tug to ensure it would hold. Next, he wound the free end around his waist before finally making his way back to the edge of the hole. There, he paused. He had a funny feeling that the length of rope was going to take him exactly to the bottom of the pit. It might’ve bothered him more if Raven’s voice hadn’t carried through the air and lifted him above the disquiet.

  “Be careful, Lucien,” she said. “Please.”

  “I will,” he replied.

  He offered her a small smile to show her he meant it, then grabbed a tight hold of the rope and started his rappel into the hole. His descent was slow, but in spite of the unhurried pace, the dark came quickly. The walls of the hole seemed to narrow, too. At first, Lucien was sure it was an illusion. A paranoid claustrophobia. The farther he got, though, the more he realized the pit was funnel-shaped and slightly curved. As though the digger had grown tired or lazy—or both—as he got nearer to his endgame.

  Or maybe Hanes just wanted you to feel like you were sinking into a pit of hell.

  He ignored the dark suggestion and kept going.

  When the rope started to run out—maybe about fifteen down—he reduced his speed even more in anticipation of hitting the ground. Sure enough, seconds later, the bottoms of his shoes found purchase on the uneven dirt.

  He exhaled, then tipped his head up and called, “I made it down.”

  Raven’s reply came right away. “Do you see Jim?”

  “I don’t see anything,” he admitted. “But I’m going to go on feel. Hang on.”

  He kept a firm hold on his tether and moved with care, mindful that wherever the other man was, he was undoubtedly injured.

  “Jim?” he said. “Mr. Rickson, are you here?”

  For a long-seeming moment, Lucien heard nothing in response.

  The space is only so big. A few steps should take me crashing into him. Probably lucky I didn’t land on him to start with.

  The thought spiked his worry. Shouldn’t he have immediately encountered the other man?

  “Jim?” he repeated, spinning in a blind circle.

  Even though it was already as close to absolute blackness as it could be, he closed his eyes as bent to reach out and find the other man. The moment his lids sank shut, though, he realized her could hear something. Breathing. Shallow. Weak. But undeniably there. Relief flooded in.

  Keeping his eyes shut, he concentrated on following the sound.

  To the left.

  Two steps.

  He took them, then paused again.

  A little bit more.

  He moved again. Stopped again.

  Right here.

  He opened his eyes and crouched down. And found nothing.

  “Jim?”

  He dropped from his squat directly onto his knees, then pushed his palms forward in the darkness. At first, he met only air. After a moment, though, his fingers hit a wall. Frustrated, he started to drop his hands. His quick movement landed his knuckles on a hard surface, too smooth to be a part of the hole itself.

  He reached out again, aiming for the same spot. He didn’t hit it on the first try. Instead, his fingers found the wall again. This time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he dragged his hand down over the dirt, seeking whatever he’d touched a moment earlier. As he perused the surface, he realized something. The wall continued to dip inward, creating a hollowed-out space. He continued to follow the slope, and at last his fingers again found the unnaturally smooth surface. It had a familiar feel, and it only took a second to place it—the toe of a work boot. Cautiously, he pushed his hand up a little. It landed on a denim cuff, and the touch earned him a raspy groan.

  Thank God.

  He flattened his palm and gave the jeans a light pat. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Jim, but my name is Lucien Match. I’m a detective with the VPD, and I’m a friend of Raven Elliot, as well. We’re here to get you out.”

  A word carried through the dark. “Raven?”

  Lucien breathed out, his relief compounding. “Yes. She’s up at the top of this hole, and she’s going to be very glad to know you’re alive.”

  “My wife...”

  He was glad the other man couldn’t see his face. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to disguise the sharp stab of emotion that hit him in the gut.

  “Let’s get you out of here first, okay?” he replied, his voice rougher than he would’ve liked. “Then we’ll talk about everything else.”

  Jim didn’t respond, and it only took a second to realize that his breathing had already regained the slow, shallow quality it’d had a couple of minutes earlier.

  Unconscious again, Lucien thought.

  He wished he had enough light to give the man a thorough once-over. As it was, he had no idea how extensive the injuries were. Whether anything was broken, or how hard it was going to be to move him. Broken bones were a strong possibility. A concussion was likely.

  “But how severe?” Lucien muttered to himself, running a worried hand over his head as he tried to decide what to do next.

  Then Raven’s voice carried down through the shaft, reminding him that he hadn’t yet confirmed the fact that he’d located Jim. “Lucien?”

  “Still here,” he called back. “Jim’s here, too, and he’s in and out of consciousness, but he’s alive.”

  She said something that sounded like, “Thank God,” then raised her voice and added, “I hear sirens. They’re getting closer. Should I try to go out and let them know we’re here?”

  “No.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he realized he’d said it too sharply, and before he could retract and adjust, Raven spoke again.

  “Do you think Hanes is out there...watching?” she asked.

  He adjusted his position on the floor and peered up, half hoping he’d find her face looking down at him. The angle was wrong, though, for seeing anything other than a gray blur.

  “It’s hard to say what Hanes is up to this time around, but even if he’s not out there, you don’t need to worry about giving a heads-up about our location. They’ll find us,” he told her.

  “You’re not just saying that to try to keep me safe?”

  He couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “Not this time. Don’t get me wrong. I’d definitely exaggerate to keep you here. But this time, I mean it.”

  He couldn’t hear her sigh, but he sensed it as she said, “I guess I’ll have to believe you.”

  Lucien laughed again. “I guess you will.”

  “But he did hang around sometimes, didn’t he? I remember it from the trial.”

  “He claimed to stick around the scenes in case we were able to solve any of his puzzles in time. But who knows if it’s true. He definitely managed to keep busy in between his grabs. His plans were elaborate. Carefully planned, too. In fact...with the shortened time frame, I don’t know how he’s keeping up with any of it.”

  “If it helps, I don’t think he dug this hole,” Raven replied. “At least not the whole thing.”

  He adjusted again, this time so he could rest his shoulders against the curved wall as he answered. “No?”

  “No. I took a bit of a look around. There’s some kind
of notice up on the wall. Utilities repair. And there’re some stakes and caution tape stuffed in behind that pile of dirt, too. I think Hanes just took advantage of what was already here.”

  “Well. At least I feel a little less like we’re fighting against someone with super powers. Been a question a few times.”

  “Trust me. He’s very definitely human. But the worst kind of human.”

  “Agreed.”

  There was a pause, and when Raven spoke again, the tremble in her voice was audible, even with the space between them. “Did you see any sign of him at the mine when you found me?”

  “No. But I wasn’t looking for him.”

  “Right. The whole single-minded thing you had going.”

  “Worked in my favor that time.”

  “Yes,” she said, her tone noticeably warmer. “Mine, too.”

  Lucien closed his eyes. In spite of the fact that Jim Rickson was beside him, hanging on to life by who knew how big a thread, and in spite of the fact that he could now hear the sirens, too—in spite of everything really—the conversation felt intimate.

  “I don’t know if I ever told you how relieved I was to find you,” he said. “We all were. Them, because it ended that feeling that they were chasing someone who really couldn’t be caught. Me, because it was you.”

  For several long seconds, Raven didn’t reply. Lucien half wondered if he hadn’t spoken his admission aloud. He cleared his throat and started to repeat it, but she finally answered, just as the sirens came to a muted crescendo, then cut off.

  “Why did you leave, Lucien?”

  The question was a searing knife in his heart. Hot and cold at the same time. And words failed him, of course. He scraped a frustrated hand over his chin and tugged at his ear, his mind forming the sentences that his mouth wouldn’t.

  I wasn’t good enough for you, Raven. I’m probably still not. But I’ve been feeling a little selfish since the second I first saw you today. So forgive me for that, too, okay, and give us a chance?