Chapter 21
Scott’s head pounded as he opened his eyes. It took a few moments for them to adjust to the darkness. As details took shape, he rolled his shoulders, the ache unfamiliar. His arms were above his head and something kept them from moving. Pulling, he heard a metallic rattle. Chains. Pressing the fingers of one hand over the other, he felt a cuff around his wrist. What the fuck?
The voice behind them. That won’t be happening. Who the hell had said it and what had he done to them? He didn’t remember much after Heather’s little moan of pain. He’d turned in her direction then wham. Shit, where was she?
“Heather?” His throat was dry, causing the word to barely come out.
“She’s a little tied up right now, Mr. Holland. So sorry.”
Who? He narrowed his eyes and focused on the dim light coming from the small opening into the chamber. The death chamber, if the number of wooden caskets was anything to go by. The voice was familiar, though. Where had he heard it?
And hadn’t that area above the half wall been larger before? A face appeared in the opening and in the weak shadows Scott narrowed his eyes to try to make out who it was. He knew that shock of white hair and quickly attached it to the voice.
“Judge Stokinger? What the hell?”
“I’m sorry, Scott,” the judge replied, his voice hardly repentant. “You should have taken the hint and sold the building when you first ran into problems. I had someone handy to scoop it up from you. They would have offered top dollar too.”
“Where’s Heather?” Had he hurt her?
“Oh, she’s in there with you. She’s chained to the wall on your left. I didn’t want you to die alone.”
“What the fuck are you doing? And why?”
“Blocking up this opening if you can’t see well enough.” Light flashed into the chamber and then a clink sounded as something dropped. The beam of a flashlight cut across the space then stopped, shooting light toward a corner.
“In case you’re afraid of the dark.” The man’s vicious laugh floated through the still air.
A groan to his left snapped Scott’s head in that direction. The flashlight had illuminated the small room a fraction. Heather stood to his left, her arms above her head clasped in chains attached to the wall.
“What…Scott? Oh, my God, Scott, my hands are…why are my hands like this?” The panic in her tone cut right to his gut.
“I’m right here, princess. Judge Stokinger was just about to tell me why he’s doing this.”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell you. Neither one of you will be able to share the information with anyone.”
“What information? Why is that hole smaller?” Her anxious voice rose higher and Scott pulled, testing the chains on his hands. Shit. The cuffs were attached to a bolt in the wall. One that was in tight.
“I’m sealing you in here, my dear. It’s only for a short time really. Once the explosives go off I’m sure much of this new wall will come tumbling down.”
“Explosives?” Scott’s heart thudded in his chest.
“Yes. You see I can’t have any evidence hanging around that leads to me.”
“You mean these bodies?” Heather asked, anger echoing through the fear in her tone. Good girl. Get that warrior going strong. He had a feeling she’d need it.
“Yes, if the authorities were to identify them, they might be able to put two and two together. A few of them had found out about my dealings with certain individuals. Ones who I shouldn’t have been dealing with.”
“Criminals,” Scott said.
“Let’s just say they weren’t up in the same social bracket as Miss Silva here. I couldn’t very well have them tell anyone what they knew. My career would have been over.”
“So you killed them?” Heather asked, her tone disgusted.
“Of course I didn’t. But I had a nice association with Victor Cabrini and he was more than happy to assist me in eliminating the threat. Not that he ever got his hands dirty. No, he had a hit man on his payroll who was quite handy.”
“Cabrini.” Scott hated that name. Had it been the same hit man who’d been hunting Jack for years? Would Jack have ended up in here if Callie hadn’t been able to get the needed information that brought down the mobster?
“Yes, see, I had a nice arrangement with Victor. I’d let him know when certain people had information that might harm him. He’d make sure that information never got out. I was paid well, and often he’d do favors for me.”
“How is it you weren’t on the list that Cabrini had of people who worked for him?” Scott knew Callie had found that list and the FBI had rounded up everyone on it.
“Plain luck. I’d retired a few years ago and was no longer any use to Cabrini.”
A rustle in Heather’s direction told him she was struggling to get free.
“You can’t leave us in here,” Heather shouted at him. Then she screamed.
Stokinger laughed. “I don’t think anyone will hear you doing that. And if any of that sound manages to get up a few flights of stairs and through the concrete walls, I doubt it will be all that effective.”
“Where are the explosives?” Scott asked. Best get as much information now while the judge seemed in a talkative mood.
“Oh, they’re all over. I was an explosives expert in the war, you know. I’ve got quite a bit of C-4 sitting on the coffins and then even more planted on each floor of this building. I want the whole place to come down and I don’t want more than shards of bone to be found. Certainly nothing that can be identified.”
“You can’t just leave us here to get blown up,” Heather argued.
“And why even bother walling up that opening if the place is going to explode anyway?”
“Well, you see that’s the great part of this plan. I’m leaving to go back to Florida this afternoon. The explosives aren’t set to go off until tomorrow morning around four. I won’t be anywhere near here, so I have a perfect alibi. Not that anyone would suspect me. You certainly didn’t. Plus, that early, no one is likely to be around to get hurt. I wouldn’t want to injure any innocent bystanders, you see.”
“But it will kill us,” Heather yelled.
“Yes, I’m very sorry about that, my dear. But you and Mr. Holland aren’t innocent any longer. You are a threat to my retirement and must be removed.”
“We’ll get out of here and stop you.” Oh, yeah, the warrior princess was back. She’d need that strong will.
“This is why I’m bricking the rest of this opening. Even if you somehow manage to get the manacles off, which is doubtful, there won’t be any way to get through this wall.”
A tiny whimper sounded to his left. Scott wanted to try and convince the man to let them go, but it wouldn’t do any good. His mind whirred with ideas and ways to get them out of here. The opening was getting smaller as each brick was cemented into place. Could he get these cuffs off before the cement dried?
“Someone will come looking for us.”
Heather wouldn’t give up. He loved that about her.
“They might,” Stokinger replied. “But they won’t find you down here. And if they look around the building they won’t see the explosives either. I’ve hidden them in the lumber and debris.” One more brick went up and there was only a tiny space left.
“Enjoy your last day with each other. I’m sorry I couldn’t have left you closer together.”
“Nooooo!” Heather wailed as the last brick slid into place, shutting off any light from that avenue. The flashlight on the floor still shone bright, but how long would that last?
The sobs beside him tore at his soul. He should have insisted she stay upstairs while he came below. But would it have made a difference? Would Stokinger have knocked her out up there and dragged her down here? Or would she have heard him enter the basement and been able to hide then get help? Why would she have hidden from the judge, though? There was no reason to suspect him.
“Are you sure you didn’t want to leave me to have all the fun?” he said, repeating the words she’d voiced earlier.
Chains clinked as she struggled and yelled, “Oh, you…are you seriously making jokes now?” A sniff echoed through the small chamber then another sob. “I should have stayed upstairs then I could have rescued you. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, Scott. Sorry.”
“Hey princess, no beating yourself up. We’ve got some time to figure this out.” Glancing up at his hands, he pressed the button on his watch and the face lit up. It was nine twenty-eight. His mind ran through the math. “We’ve got about eighteen hours and thirty-two minutes before the explosives go off.”
“Do you really think we can get out of here?” Her voice held hope and he couldn’t squash that. He honestly had no idea if they’d be able to even get the manacles off never mind get through the wall, but he wouldn’t share his fears.
“Sure, if I’m wrong, I’ll do all the construction work on your house for free.”
She snorted in a most unladylike way. “You’re hysterical. You should go into comedy.”
His eyes were starting to adjust to the darker environment and he could make things out a little better. Heather twisted and turned like she was trying to pull the bolt out of the wall. Wrapping his own hands around the metal, he pushed and pulled. Shit, it was in solid. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t eventually get loose, but would it take longer than eighteen hours and twenty-something minutes?
Time passed as they both struggled with their shackles. He didn’t even know what to say to her. How did you apologize for putting someone’s life in danger and getting them killed? Well, they weren’t dead yet, but it seemed like a foregone conclusion if they couldn’t get out of the chains or break through the wall. If his estimates were correct, they were well under the building, so there wasn’t any chance of another way out except the way they came.
“Scott.” Heather’s tiny voice cut through him violently. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Don’t, princess. This certainly isn’t your fault.”
“I’m not talking about this. I’m sorry about the party. And not letting everyone know how much you meant to me. I’m sorry for being such a spoiled rotten brat and for anything else I did that made you hate me.”
Her tears were apparent and her words made his clog in his throat. Clearing it, he said, “I don’t hate you, princess. Far from it. I want you to be happy more than anything else in the world. I figured you wouldn’t be with me.”
“You do make me happy, Scott. More than I’ve ever been with anyone else. I wish I’d handled things differently that night, and we hadn’t had that fight. I hate that our last thoughts of each other will be of anger.”
“Nah, my last thought will be of how freakin’ hot you look in those painted-on jeans. And that T-shirt seems like it was washed a few too many times.”
Her chuckle had his muscles relaxing. Not much, but she wasn’t sobbing at least.
“The shirt is Charlotte’s. It’s been around for a while.”
“I wasn’t knocking it. I wish I could see it a little better, though.”
“Should I admit to how much I like seeing you in your work pants?”
“More than seeing me without them?” God, he wanted nothing more than to be with her without clothes right now. Someplace a bit more comfortable though.
“I like that too. We definitely need more light in here. Oh, wait, then I’d be reminded of the horrible situation we’re in.” Her voice was growing stronger, but there was still a catch every now and then.
“The shackles on your wrists aren’t giving you enough of a reminder? Damn, I wish I could see what we’ve got to work with.”
“More light, huh? Let me see. Can I…?” Her feet maneuvered closer to the flashlight and soon stopped. Moving one foot, she attempted to pull it closer. Slowly, slowly, it rolled an inch. Two inches. A few more and it rested in front of her.
“Can you push it so it shines in my direction?” It would be aimed at his feet, and he wanted to see the manacles but he couldn’t ask for everything.
“Maybe I can do better than that.”
Grabbing onto the bolt above her head, she kicked up. What was she doing? Her feet swung low again and this time she closed them around the flashlight. When her feet flew up this time, the light came with them. Her legs twisted right up in front of her and she grabbed the light with her hands.
“Shit, woman, that was amazing. Where did you learn to do that?”
“I took gymnastics growing up. I’m quite flexible.”
That he knew from their short lived bedroom escapades. “I should have guessed.”
“Where do you want me to shine this?” She sounded stronger, more confident, more like the warrior princess he knew her to be.
“Up here on my hands. I want to see what’s on our wrists.”
The light moved and he twisted checking out what he could of the metal surrounding his hands. Strong, unbending and far too small to even try and get out of.
“Heather, are your manacles tight? Any possibility you can wiggle your hand out?” Her hands were definitely smaller than his.
“I’ve been trying since I woke up. No good.”
“Hmm, it looks like there’s a lock holding it closed. If I had something to pick it with I might be able to open them.”
“You know how to pick a lock?”
“They teach you all sorts of things in the military. You wouldn’t happen to have a hairpin on you?”
“Even if I did, how the heck would I get it over to you? I certainly don’t know how to pick a lock. And it’s kind of hard to throw with your hands like this.”
“Can you flash the light around the room? I want to see what’s here.”
The light bounced from surface to surface and froze when it landed on the stack of wooden boxes near the opposite wall.
“Hold it right there. I want to see where he’s got the explosives.”
“Is it that stuff? Looks like modeling clay.”
The large blocks of claylike substance sat on and around the caskets. Shit, there was a lot. The detonators sat on top, shoved into the material. A slight glow showed the timer.
“I can’t see the time on it. Can you?” His vision was getting used to the darker room and Heather was becoming clearer.
Shaking her head, she said, “No. It’s facing the back wall.”
“Shine the light near me again. On the wall and the floor.”
The light bounced around and every now and then he’d ask her to hold it someplace so he could check something out. It never ended up being anything useful. Not that he could reach anything near him anyway.
“Stop, right there. To the right of my foot. What is that?”
Heather held the beam still and Scott squinted to make out a small piece of metal a few feet away. Could he do the acrobatics like she’d done? Doubtful, but he still might be able to get it.
“Keep holding it there. That’s something metal, and I might be able to use it to get these cuffs off.”
Sliding his feet away from the wall, he took little steps until he had them on both sides of the object. Pushing his feet closer together he clasped it and attempted to lift it, like Heather had done with the flashlight. It was thin and it took several tries before he could get it stuck between his boots. Grabbing hold of the bolt above his head, he raised his legs. Clink. It fell back to the ground.
“Damn.” He tried again and again and his frustration level grew. Heather had remained quiet this whole time, holding the beam steady on the floor and the object he was trying to lift.
After what seemed like the four hundredth time, he let out a growl. “The treads of these boots are too thick. Fuck.” Sweat trickled down his back and over his face.
Holding tight to the metal above him, he lifted and lowered his legs, needing to get some movement somehow so he didn’t explode. There was a reason he liked to swing a hammer throughout the day.
The light switched off. Shit, had it died?
“I’ll save the batteries for when we need them again. Are you all right?” Her concern flooded warmth back into him. But it brought back his determination to get them out of here.
His sigh echoed in the small chamber. “I promised to get you out of here. I’m not doing a very good job.”
“Why don’t you rest for a few minutes? You’ve been at this for a while.”
Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost noon. “Are you kidding me? How did that much time pass already?”
“You were busy.”
“Busy accomplishing nothing.” God, what a hero he was, getting them in this jam and not being prepared with a backup plan. Hadn’t he learned anything in the military? He hadn’t even mentioned where he was going to Jack. Stupid.
“Hey, princess, did you happen to tell anyone where you were going or what you were doing?”
“No,” she wailed. “I told my secretary I was taking some time and Charlotte…well, she was more interested in how I was going to win you back. She thinks you’re freakin’ hot. Her words.”
Chuckling, he said, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s hot in here. How much air do you think we have left? Oh, my God, I never even thought of that. We could die from asphyxiation instead of blowing up. Hmm, that might be preferable. I hear it feels like you’re sleepy. Asphyxiation, not getting blown up.”
“Enough. We aren’t going to die. I won’t let us. How are you feeling?”
“I’m hungry.” Her stomach took that moment to rumble. “See, right on cue. I only had a cup of coffee this morning.”
He could use something to eat also but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. He needed to pick up that damned metal strip on the floor. Could he get it with his toes? But that meant he’d have to take his boots off. No way he could kick them off. Not with how he usually tied them. But…
Grabbing hold of the bolt again, he reverse-crunched then frogged his legs so one boot came to his mouth. Grabbing the knot of the lace with his teeth, he tugged. His legs dropped but he’d felt it shift. Why the hell did he have to double knot them?
“Tell me what colors you want to paint each of the rooms in your new house.”
“You want to discuss room color while we’re hanging around here waiting to die.”
“No, damn it, Heather, but I need something to distract me and keep my mind off the fact it’s gonna take me another few hours to just get my fucking boot off. If I can even do it. Then it’s back to trying to pick up that piece of metal. I don’t even know if it’s the right size to fit in the locks for these things.”
He rattled the chains holding his hands. “It’s the only chance we have unless you’ve got some trick up your sleeve to get these cuffs off I don’t know about.”
“No, no tricks. So, um, I was thinking of maybe a sage green in the kitchen.”
Getting the knot out of his shoe wasn’t the easiest thing, though he felt a bit more successful each time the lace shifted. As Heather rattled on about her new house and he kept pulling out the knot little by little, he gave some serious thought to dying. It wasn’t anything new. When he’d been in Afghanistan he’d thought about it a lot. Like every time they lost one of their guys or even when someone was injured. Certainly, when he’d been in the rubble of the bombed-out building.
Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he tried to keep the oppressive space from moving in on him. Ever since he’d been trapped for a few days, he had this thing about tight spaces. The room they were in wasn’t all that small but the darkness somehow made it feel smaller and more cramped. And the fact he couldn’t move or free himself exacerbated the claustrophobia more.
Resting for a few moments, he checked his watch again. Another few hours had passed. Holy shit, seriously, this was useless. Then Heather sighed a few feet from him and he knew he’d spend every last second they had in here trying to get her out and safe.
“So I told my mom I wasn’t going to this latest party. To say she wasn’t happy would be an understatement. I know she only wants to see me happily married and taken care of but I can’t stand all the fakeness and snobbery. I want to puke on half these people.”
Scott listened as she rattled on. She wasn’t expecting any response from him, which was good, since he was using his teeth to untie the lace. But as she spoke, he got a better sense of who she was. Less the socialite and more the woman he’d fallen in love with. He could admit it now. It made perfect sense when he thought about his reactions to her. Maybe now wasn’t the time to tell her. He’d keep an eye on the countdown, though. She deserved to know before it was too late.
“That’s why I’ve been working so hard with my business and why I wanted this renovation project to be successful. If I can show my parents, especially my father, that I can earn money and take care of myself, then they might not push the whole marriage-to-a-billionaire thing.”
“But your mom is the one who keeps pushing you to get married.”
“Yeah, but my dad’s opinion carries a lot of weight with her. She’d listen if he told her to stop.”
Time after time, he lifted his boot to his face and attempted to loosen the tie. Monotonous and slow, it was frying his nerves, but the alternative wasn’t acceptable. Finally, after what had to be a million times, his teeth grabbed the end of the shoe lace and it actually pulled all the way out. Fuck. About time.
Taking a few minutes to rest, he focused in on Heather. She was still talking though he hadn’t been paying real close attention for a while. The sound of her voice had been soothing and helped keep him going. It didn’t matter what she was saying. Something about volunteering at a veterans hospital and going with Charlotte to walk dogs at the pound. She was a good person. Why had he ever thought she was like those uptight snobs? Now she was back to the subject of her new house. The one he hoped he’d be able to build for her.
“I’m not sure about the two extra bedrooms upstairs. For now, I’ll use one as an office but not sure what to do with the other. If I paint it a neutral color, will I have to repaint when I have a baby?”
A baby? Whoa, maybe he should have been listening a bit closer.
“Um, princess, is there something I need to know about? You said you’d been taking your pills.”
“Nothing for you to worry about. If I’m going to daydream then I want to go all the way.” Her little chuckle sounded whimsical. “I hadn’t really thought about having kids, at least not yet. But someday. And now that I might not”—her voice had grown thick with tears—“I realize I want them. A little boy like Jonathan, or a little girl to dress up and fix her hair. Or one of each or a few of each.”
The image of Heather all full and round with his child, his little boy or girl, slammed into his gut and shook him to his soul. Shit. He wanted that too.
Sticking the toe of one work boot against the back of the one with the loosened laces, he twisted his foot, pushing. The laces were still tight, but after a few minutes of wiggling and kicking at it, his foot slipped out of the boot. Immediately, he scraped his now-stockinged foot over the metal piece then slid it toward his other foot. Manipulating it with his toes, he was able to get it wedged between his feet. Now to lift and get it near his hand.
“Here’s where I need your flexibility, princess.”
Heather clicked the light back on and focused near the action. “This might help.”
“Thanks.” Grabbing the bolt in a secure grip, he slowly raised his legs, his ab muscles screaming at the continued torture. He wouldn’t listen to them, though. If this fell and moved too far away, they were screwed. There wasn’t any other way out of this that he could tell. Time was running out.
The muscles in his arms tightened and pulled as his legs got closer and closer. Another few inches. So close. A cramp in his thigh throbbed, almost making him drop his legs. No, damn it. He needed to do this. He wanted to look at Heather and get support from her but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the piece of metal barely hanging on.
“You can do it, Scott. I know you can.”
She believed in him. Glad someone did. He was having doubts personally. But his feet were getting closer, only another inch or so. Stretching his hand out as far as the manacle would let him he reached for the object. Almost. The tips of his fingers touched it. Don’t lose it now, Holland. You’re almost there.
Yes. He closed his hand around the metal and held tight. Dropping his legs to the floor he sagged against the wall and let out a huge sigh, his breathing rough.
“You did it. You did it.”
His sweet little cheerleader.
“I’m going to need a minute to recover from that. Save the light for now.”
The flashlight beam snapped off and silence permeated the chamber, the only sound his heavy breathing. Let’s hope he didn’t nod off and drop the damned piece of metal.
He took a few minutes to get his lungs working then glanced up. He’d been manipulating the metal between his hands and he had a bad feeling it wouldn’t work. It felt too thick to fit into the lock.
“Can you flash that light over here now?”
The light flicked on and moved to his hands. It looked like part of a broken off hinge. Maybe from one of the caskets. Definitely too wide. Damn, shit, fuck.
“Is that going to fit?” God, he hated to tell her the truth.
“I may have to file it down a bit but I’ll make it fit.”
Then began the arduous task of scraping the metal against the stone behind him. Scrape a few minutes. Stop and check. Move the metal then scrape another part. Dust from the wall and the metal sprinkled down, getting in his eyes. The angle of the manacles caused his knuckles to be scraped as well. This was going to be a long process, but what choice did he have? The clock was ticking down.