“Alexandra!” Andrew hurried through the house, opening doors as he went. Outside the kitchen, he found the garage door and her car parked inside. That explained a lot.

He hollered her name again. Why wasn’t she responding? Did the bastard have her tied up and gagged? His heart stalled thinking about what the bastard could’ve done to her. If one hair on her head was hurt, he’d take a page from the Games of Thrones book and peel the skin from the bastard’s body and amputate his limbs one by one till he died of agony.

He stopped with that line of thought. That was rather gruesome even for himself.

At the last doorway in the house, he threw it open and looked around. It was a bedroom with dozens of photos scattered across the floor, the bed, dressers, everywhere. Picking up one, he saw a man standing next to a female whose face had been ground down to the paper backing.

He grabbed another photo. Same thing. The guy and the female with her head stabbed so many times, the face was gone. Was the woman in the pictures Jen? He gazed around the area, looking for a non-mutilated image he could verify. They were all destroyed. A sick feeling rolled through him.

He called out for Alexandra again. This time he thought he heard something. He turned toward the open closet doors. It came from there. Inspecting the small space, he moved hangers around and tapped on the wall.

When the solid sound of wood rang hollow, he stopped. Had he found a secret entrance?

Rubbing his hands along the wall, Andrew searched for a switch or latch or anything that could function as a door release. Not finding anything, his impatience got the best of him and he beat against the wall. The same sound came again. It sounded like his name.

It was Alexandra. Had to be.

Kicking and throwing his shoulder against the wall was doing little. He needed a running start. He’d see how well a door handled 190 pounds slammed into it.

Careful to duck his head under the clothes-hanging bar, he ran and launched toward the wall, his body turning slightly for his arm to make first contact.

The fake drywall and 2x4s gave way to his weight. Instead of falling to the floor as he prepared for, he fell into darkness, crashed onto steps and rolled to the bottom. Fuck that hurt.

He remained quiet, holding his breath.

“Andrew?” Alexandra’s voice sent a rush of adrenaline and joy through him.

“I’m here—”

“Get out of here now!” she yelled at him. “It’s a trap.”

“I’m not leaving without—”

“No, Andrew. He’s got a knife and is hiding.” He followed her voice in the absolute darkness, arms extended. Tears stung his eyes when he felt warm skin under his fingers. “Andrew, run! Get the police.” He worked the knot at her wrist, unraveling it.

“Not without you.”

A sting cut through his upper bicep. He flinched away, not able to see anything. Then he heard a swoop in front of him as if someone had slashed their arm through the air.

The bastard had cut him in the arm, trying to reach his neck. Andrew dove forward, arms wide to tackle the son of a bitch. His head hit a soft place and his hands wrapped around a body. Down they went, crashing into something that sounded like a tray with stuff on it.

Alexandra screamed nearby.

“Andrew!” Alex screamed into total darkness.

When Ted turned the lights off, she didn’t know what the hell he was thinking. Then she realized he lay in wait for whomever it was to enter. Which gave her time to tell the person to get help and not to come down.

Instead of the door opening at the top of the steps, it sounded like somebody crashed through and fell down the stairs. Her love had somehow found her, and completely ignored her telling him to stay upstairs and call for help. Noooo. He had to play macho and save her like the damsel in distress she was.

Now, Andrew and Ted wrestled on the floor, Ted with a knife. With Andrew freeing her one hand, she worked to get the other knots undone. Another crash close by caused the table she lay on to tip over. Pulling her foot from the bindings, she reached out blindly, trying to catch herself with her hands. Her knee bashed against the concrete. Her hand covered her mouth to keep the scream in. Not feeling much pain anymore from the adrenaline flowing through her, she headed for the light spilling through the broken entrance.

Fists beat on flesh and quick yells dotted the area. Almost to the stairs, her path had been free of obstacles. Then a grunt sounded behind her and her body fell toward the floor. Trying to catch herself again, her head smashed against something rock hard.

Pain like she’d never known zipped through her brain. She lay on the floor, feeling herself slipping into unconsciousness. No. She had to get up. If she passed out, Andrew could die from a slash to any artery.

Get up, Alexandra, she told herself. Get up or lose Andrew forever. Determination joined adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream.

Grabbing anything within reach, she pulled herself to her feet. Tilting her head up, the darkness spun, and she convulsed with a dry heave. Ending up on her knees, she decided to stay down and crawl.

She had to find a light switch. Andrew would be able to take down Ted if he could see the madman with the blade. Usually the switch was close to the door, which was where she wanted to go anyway.

Her hand landed on a slick, warm liquid. Oh god. Did Ted pee his pants? Carefully, she lifted her hand and sniffed. Not urine. Blood.

“Andrew!” she screamed. “You’re bleeding.” He didn’t reply, and the room became deathly silent.

Light switch, she had to get to one. Stay focused. Ignore pain. Probably concussion. Find switch. Keep crawling. Hurry the hell up.

Finally she was at the bottom tread and pulled herself up the first couple steps. Before she could climb any farther, a hand grabbed the back of her shirt. A growl erupted next to her ear and the hand was torn away.

“Go, Alexandra!” Andrew hollered. “Get to the car.”

No, not yet. He wouldn’t leave her, and she wasn’t leaving him. Fighting nausea, her hand gripped the simple wood railing. A few more steps were all she needed. She saw the switch exactly where it should be. Lifting her head, the room spun and she fell sideways, but her grasp of the balustrade kept her from diving head first over the side.

Enough of this shit, she said to herself. Get to the damn switch already. Concussion or not, just do it for Andrew. She wrapped her arm around the rail and forced her feet onto the tread. Reaching up, her finger barely touched the end of the toggle. With a grunt, she stretched onto her toes and the switch flipped.

Let there be goddamn light.

Alex fell to the step and looked around. Andrew was at the back of the room beating the shit out Ted’s face. Several slashes in Andrew’s shirt bled.

“Andrew, help me. I can’t stand,” she said. He took one last swing and let Ted drop to the floor, unconscious. Stumbling, Andrew backed away, panting, staring at the man at his feet.

Tears welled. She was alive, and Andrew hadn’t bled out totally, yet. If he’d just get his ass over here...

A moment later, he had her in his arms. She hadn’t felt this safe for a while. Her wet cheeks rested against his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

“It’s over, sweetheart,” Andrew said. “You’re safe.” Without a word, she pulled him to and through the hole in the wall/door. Bumping her forehead on the damn clothes bar, she fell to her knees. Andrew scooped her up, trying to hide his snicker which he didn’t do a good job of. If she weren’t so disoriented, she would’ve punched his arm.

It felt so good to have him around. She prayed to anyone listening that her phone had recorded Ted’s words. That would be Andrew’s only saving grace. If she’d failed, she had almost died for nothing.

He carried her down the hallway to the living room where she unlocked the front door’s deadbolt and turned the doorknob for him. Stepping into the twilight, she treasured the rain-freshened, crisp air against her face after the musty basement.

“Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart,” he said. “We’ll call the police and have Frederick arrested.”

She looked up at him. “Who?”

Behind them, a hysterical scream filled the air. Andrew spun around with her still in his arms to see Ted dashing at them, bowie knife raised over his head.

In her current position, both she and Andrew were helpless to stop the madman. He approached in what seemed like slow motion. His face was bloody and cut from the punishment he took from Andrew, nose askew and eye swelling. The Speedo Ted wore had a tear in the side, but still covered the important stuff.

Andrew stepped back, but he wouldn’t be able to out maneuver the psycho determined to kill them. Alex cringed against Andrew, awaiting the oncoming stab. Would it sting? Do internal organs have nerve endings? Could she feel a slashed kidney?

Two gunshots echoed from the street and Ted’s body abruptly changed direction, crashing into the muddy flowerbed. Alex stared at the hole in his chest and the side of his head. What had happened? Who fired the gun?

Andrew twisted around.

Standing over the hood of an unmarked sedan, Detective Hudson lowered his outstretched arms, his service weapon in hand.