Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Provoking a serial killer by breaking his nose might not have been the most brilliant move. Here, under the blinding spotlight in an otherwise dim room, Vaynes off doing who knew what, Della could see that.
It had been her last-ditch effort for justice and retaliation. As much as she had been ready to tell the truth, she hated doing it on Jason’s terms. She had hoped to leverage what he wanted to convince him to turn himself in.
Dumb idea.
The spark of defiance that had inspired the move must’ve evaporated into the night. Now she was stuck with the reality of the situation pressing in on her like a relentless chokehold.
She was going to die.
“God, where are You? Remind me of the truth.”
The whispered prayer escaped her lips but did little to fill all the dark space around her.
Vaynes probably knew that leaving her anticipating his retaliation was a much more effective torture than anything he could do physically.
It was working.
Her body trembled. At this point it could be the shock or the cold or the fear.
Who knew? But the longer he left her here, the more bleak the situation grew.
The agony from her mangled fingers, throbbing down her arm, was unbearable.
She couldn’t stop the tears if she wanted to.
Her body hurt so much she’d almost welcome Vaynes knocking her out at this point, except for the fear of waking up to something even worse.
I could really use a rescue, Lord.
Remember my names.
Names?
Her breath caught. Her mother’s game.
Almighty, Bread of Life, Creator. Deliverer. Emmanuel.
Della paused. Emmanuel. God with us.
Her heart lifted at a quiet voice inside.
You are not alone.
But she sure felt like it.
She’d been alone for a long time. She’d thrown herself into work, the foster parent process, volunteering, all trying to fill the darkness that plagued her.
She’d turned down outings with coworkers and even acquaintances at church.
She was much better at serving and teaching and working than connecting with others.
But nothing had shaken the shame of not being there for Lily. Lying on the stand. Call it survivor’s guilt or whatever. She’d lost her parents and best friend. Another loss would have destroyed her. It had seemed easier to do life on her own.
But look at where that had gotten her.
A picture of Anthony filled her thoughts, his blue eyes concerned, his dark hair messy from dragging his fingers through it. He had to be going out of his mind.
Too bad she hadn’t asked him out, gotten to know him sooner.
She hadn’t known him long, but over the last couple of days, she’d learned a few things about the handsome officer.
Despite the clothes and the Casanova reputation, he wasn’t the kind of guy to sit back and do nothing.
Even now, he was most likely searching for her.
And then there were Penny and Bryce and the others.
They were probably doing everything they could to find her.
Maybe there was reason to hope after all.
And it wasn’t only these friends.
She claimed she believed in God Almighty. And He was Emmanuel, God with her, right here. Right now.
She wasn’t alone.
All right, Lord, time to stop believing the lies. Remind me of the light of Your love. Fill me now. And lead Anthony and the others here. If not to rescue me, may they at least capture Vaynes before he can hurt anyone else. Please.
A wave of energy thrummed through her. No need to stay here scared and helpless. She needed to use this time to free herself, to help them find her. If there was a way to send up a signal to them…
Della peered into the shadowed corners and studied the room.
The longer she did, the more her eyes adjusted.
The building was old. Almost cavernous with how empty it was.
An old-fashioned cot sat behind bars of a little jail cell in the corner.
Next to the cell was a sturdy wooden desk, an ink stand with a feather sticking out of it sitting on top.
Ancient “Wanted” posters were tacked to the wall.
They all looked like props in a Western movie.
A lantern even sat on a barrel in a different corner, with burlap sacks arranged around it.
The lantern.
It might work as a signal. Hopefully it had something flammable in it. But she had to get to it. The wooden chair she was tied to was on the flimsier side. If she could free her arm from the table she was strapped to, she could maybe find a way to escape. Signal for help.
Without Vaynes holding the straps tight around her arm, she’d managed to loosen them a little. She couldn’t move her hand without excruciating pain shooting up her broken and bloodied fingers, but she had to. He could come back at any time.
Della bit down on her molars and yanked her shoulder away from the table, screaming inside at the burn shooting up from her hand. But her arm, already bloody and now sweaty too, finally slipped out of the straps.
That was one limb she could use. But with the broken fingers, there wasn’t much she could grasp.
There was no way to untie the knots trapping her other wrist or undo the duct tape around her ankles and chair legs.
But she could scooch the chair out of the construction light’s reach and look for a weapon or tool.
Bit by bit she hopped the chair over the cord stretched across the room and made it to the desk.
Nothing there to use. But the lantern might be useful.
Using her thumb, she hooked the wire handle of the lantern and lifted it to her nose.
One whiff told her it was kerosene.
Now she just needed something to ignite it. If there was a way to get outside and set a small fire, someone would call the fire department, right? Della moved toward the double doors across the room.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Vaynes roared.
She yelped as he caught the back of her chair and dragged her to the middle of the room.
He knocked the lantern out of her hand, sending it crashing to the floor. Splintered glass shimmered while the kerosene puddled and spread across several of the wooden planks.
No!
“Now look at what you’ve done.” Vaynes grew still. He threw a case on the table and opened it. The light glinted off the metal tip of a needle in his hand.
She couldn’t be drugged again.
She threw her weight back and forth with what little give she could find. Every instinct screamed to get as far away from him as possible.
Vaynes stepped closer. She thrashed harder, tipping her chair. She fell to the side, her free arm barely escaping being crushed. But in the fall, one of her legs broke free. With it, she kicked at Vaynes, catching him in the chin, then the chest.
He fell over, knocking the light down to the ground and flooding the room in darkness. But sparks caught the spilled kerosene and quickly ignited. Flames licked the floor, growing taller by the second.
Vaynes didn’t move.
She had to get out of here.
Della kicked, scooting herself and the chair farther back.
With her free arm and leg, she pushed herself as far away from Vaynes and the fire as she could until she’d positioned herself against the wall, by the double doors that had to be the main entrance.
But already, the table she’d been strapped to in the middle of the room was ablaze.
A wall of flames cut her off from Vaynes, but she couldn’t free herself from the chair. She couldn’t stand.
But she could kick.
Having lost her sock in the fray, she kicked at the door with her bare foot. It didn’t budge.
She screamed and kicked again. She had to get free.
Smoke rolled off the low ceiling. Della coughed and continued to beat at the door.
The smoke grew thicker, the flames danced closer, and Della’s muscles screamed for relief.
A coughing fit overtook her. She lay on the floor, still strapped to the chair, and gasped for breath.
The fire was only a few feet away, but she had nothing left.
Her kicking must’ve broken something in her foot. She couldn’t move it anymore.
As she lay there, a voice called her name. It was faint, maybe only a figment of her imagination. Hopefully someone would take care of Grandma Priya. Her thoughts grew fuzzy.
This was it.
There would be no foster care, no honoring Lily’s sacrifice. No chance to get to know Anthony.
But then a draft of cold, clean air rushed over her as the doors flew open.
“Della!”
She pried open her eyes to find Anthony standing over her. He lifted her, chair and all, and carried her into the snowy night.
“Set her down, Tony.” Penny pulled a multitool from her pocket and cut the tape and rope, freeing Della’s other limbs.
As soon as Della was free from the chair, Anthony scooped her up in his arms. Someone, maybe Penny, tucked a coat around her.
Shouting, sirens, and flashing lights swirled around them.
And there was Anthony. The warmth from his body fighting off the chill in hers.
This wasn’t a dream. He was real. He was here. She smiled.
Finally safe and sheltered, Della rested her head against his chest and succumbed to the blackness overtaking her.