Chapter 75
Vaughn grabbed a gas mask and his trusty crowbar from his trunk. Then he sprinted for the front door.
When he heard the sound of gas flowing somewhere inside, he pulled the mask over his head and wedged the crowbar between the door and the frame. He flexed; the door started to move. Now, he heard muffled cries from within. This was a good sign. Someone was still alive in there.
“Ivy!” He shouted, leaning all of his body weight on the crowbar.
There was a splinter and then a pop as the door opened. It struck something on the other side, and someone yelped.
A woman rushed at him, coughing, sneezing.
It wasn’t Ivy.
“Out!” he screamed. “Get out!”
She ran outside.
Vaughn saw three doors in front of him, all open. In one of the small rooms beyond was a man in a mask.
“Move!” The man’s eyes were closed. “Fucking move!”
Vaughn sprinted forward.
It was Eugene Reeves, and he was unconscious.
Vaughn cursed, bent down, and threw the man over his shoulder. He was thin, frail. Easy to carry. With a grunt, he rushed outside, did his best to lower the man as gently as possible onto the grass. Expected the woman to come over and help, but she seemed to be in shock.
He sprinted back in, went to the second door.
Darnell.
Holy fuck, it was Darnell.
And he wasn’t moving.
The man was slumped on a stool that his girth almost completely enveloped. Vaughn grabbed his partner by the waist, lifted. Darnell barely rose half an inch.
“Darnell!”
The man coughed. A horrible wet sound behind the tape covering his mouth. Then his eyes snapped open, went impossibly wide.
“Move!”
Darnell was disoriented, maybe from the gas, maybe from the gash on his forehead.
Still didn’t stand. And unlike Dr. Reeves, there was no chance he would be able to carry his partner.
Vaughn jabbed his thumb into the cut above Darnell’s left eye. The man tried to scream and finally came fully to. With another yank, the man rose.
Darnell moved like a drunken sailor.
Apt.
He was a mere foot from the broken exterior door when he started to drop to one knee.
How long did Dr. Button say they had?
At high concentrations, hydrogen sulfide gas could kill in less than a minute. If Darnell fell, it was over; Vaughn would never be able to drag the big man outside in time.
He did the only thing he could think of at that moment.
Vaughn placed both hands on the man’s back and shoved as hard as he could.
It was a good push. Solid.
So good that Vaughn actually fell backward. Landed hard on his ass. His mask shifted but stayed on.
Vaughn quickly scrambled to his feet and ran out, having enough forethought to close the door behind him as best he could.
Darnell had made it. Barely. He was lying on his stomach, coughing so badly that his entire body was quaking.
The egg smell was potent, even with the mask. Some of the gas had leaked outside.
Fuck it.
Vaughn filled his lungs with air, then tore his mask off. Grabbed the back of Darnell’s head, put it on him. Still not breathing, Vaughn hooked his arms beneath Darnell’s and started to drag him backward away from the house.
Grunted with the effort.
It was easier on grass, would have been impossible on dirt.
Vaughn accidentally inhaled, coughed, spat. Kept dragging. They were ten feet from the door now, fifteen. The smell was no longer as powerful.
“Darnell!”
The man wasn’t coughing anymore. Wasn’t breathing.
The woman was beside him now, shouting into her gag. Vaughn ripped it off her mouth.
“Fuck!” she screamed.
It was Abby Granger.
“He took Ivy!” she yelled. Her lips were an angry red from where the tape had been stuck. “Tristan took Ivy!”
She turned around, and Vaughn unraveled half of the tape that kept her hands pinned behind her back. Abby wriggled out of the rest by herself.
“Help me flip him over,” Vaughn said.
Abby grabbed Darnell’s left side; Vaughn, too. They pushed and Darnell rolled. His eyes were closed; stagnant, pink-tinged foam plugged each nostril.
Vaughn laid one hand on top of the other and pushed down on the man’s chest. His palms sunk into the man’s fat.
“Breathe!” Vaughn pumped.
Abby went to remove Darnell’s mask, but Vaughn told her to keep it on. With each chest compression, the foam in Darnell’s nose bubbled. When he stopped, it went still.
“Breathe, you fat fuck!”
This time, Vaughn pushed with all of his waning strength. Darnell coughed. Vaughn pushed again.
Again.
When Darnell bucked, Vaughn finally got off him. Collapsed on the ground. Took a full breath of his own. Sputtered a little.
Darnell rolled over and Abby undid the tape from his wrists. As soon as he was free, Darnell took the mask off, tore the tape from his mouth. Hissed in pain.
“Jesus Christ, it I think you broke my ribs!”
Vaughn ignored him, caught his bearings.
Gene had also regained consciousness and was just lying there. Stunned. Seemingly unaffected by the fact that he’d nearly died.
That they’d all nearly died.
“Some asshole hit me on the head—”
“Tristan took Ivy!” Abby repeated.
Vaughn got on his phone. His eyes were watering so badly from the gas that he could barely see the screen. Didn’t need to see all that well to dial 911.
“This is Detective Ryan with the PPD! I need EMS and police—”
“Badge number?”
“Fuck the badge number. I need EMS and police, now!”
Vaughn screamed the address, hung up. He swiped tears from his eyes. Found Bowes’s number.
“Bowes, I need to know if Tristan owns any other properties.”
“More—”
“Properties! Houses, apartments, anything! Him or his father!”
“I—I only found the one—I gave it to you earlier.”
“Fuck. Put out an APB—” Vaughn stopped speaking as an image of the murder board flashed in his mind. Zeke was on that board. Devon Godfrey, too. “Impact Investing! Devon Godfrey’s company . . . do they own any properties? Anything residential in Jersey?”
“Hold on . . . hold on . . .”
Vaughn gritted his teeth as he waited. He was shaking all over. Adrenaline or H2S gas?
“Hurry, Bowes!”
“I’m fucking trying! I’m fucking—okay, I’ve got something! Impact Investing has a place in Sea Bright. Want the address?”
“Yes! Fucking yes! Give me the address now!”