12
ANSON
The door rattled but didn’t open.
I remembered the deadbolt Vincent had locked when we came in. “That won’t hold long. If they don’t have the key, they’ll find one fast.”
Twill changed her mind about my gown and shrugged back into her tank top. “That’s the only door. I looked. There’s no other way out of here.”
Vincent moved fast. Faster than I’d ever seen him move.
He snatched up a bone saw from one of the tables and shoved it into Paul’s hand, then he checked the cylinder on his gun before nodding at Twill and me. “You two might want to find something better than scalpels.”
Like I said, Father muttered. They’re going to get you killed.
“We can’t fight them off.”
“You got a better idea?”
The door rattled. This was followed by a heavy knock. “Charleston PD! If you don’t open this door and surrender, we’re coming in!”
I quickly looked around the room, took it all in.
Not just the tables, drawers, and tools, but everything.
My gaze fixed on a cabinet with glass doors lined with shelves of chemicals.
I ran over, yanked the door open, and began studying the labels.
When I found the glass bottles of formaldehyde, I set them on the counter.
Lined them up in a neat row. Eight bottles in total. I found bleach under the sink.
Vincent just stared. “What are you doing?”
“Help me,” I told him.
“With what?”
I unscrewed the cap from the first bottle and began pouring it down the drain. “Empty half of each of these.”
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
I didn’t mean to yell at him. I didn’t like yelling at anyone. But I did, and it took him by surprise. He began emptying the bottles as I fumbled the cap off the gallon of bleach and poured some into the first bottle of formaldehyde. It quickly began to smoke.
Vincent choked and turned his head. “What the fuck?”
I twisted the cap back on the first bottle, trapping the gas inside, and started on the next. “When you mix them, they make chlorine gas. It’s toxic. Try not to breathe it.”
Vincent choked again, his eyes red. “No shit!” he managed before coughing again.
“They think she’s alone in here. We can use that.”
The door rattled again.
“Guys . . .” Paul muttered. He was holding the deadbolt thumb latch. “They found a key . . .” He squeezed, his face pinched, doing his best to keep it locked. He wouldn’t be able to hold it long.
Vincent understood, though, and that was good. With my broken arm, I was moving too slowly. Between the two of us, we managed to get it done. He scooped two of the bottles up and handed them to Twill. “Kneel in the center of the room. Get ready to surrender yourself.”
She nodded and quickly got in position.
I took three bottles and balanced them in the crook of my cast. Vincent took the last three. We got on either side of the double doors and hid around the corners. “When we go, hold your breath and try to shield your eyes,” I told them all.
Still squeezing the thumb latch, Paul offered a worried glance but said nothing.
Vincent nodded at Twill.
She cried out, “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! I’m so sorry! You gotta believe me!”
Another heavy bang on the door. “Unlock this door and surrender immediately!”
“You’ve got to promise you won’t hurt me!
I’ll let you in if you promise!” Her voice was filled with tears, each word choked out between fake sobs as her fingers coiled around the glass jars in her hands, judging the weight of them, calculating.
“It was the drugs! I’m okay now! I swear! Just promise you won’t hurt me!”
The voice on the other side of the door dropped lower. “If you surrender peacefully, you will not be harmed. You have my word.”
Vincent tapped on Paul’s shoulder.
Paul released the lock.