Chapter 14
SETH
I shove at the wall again. I heard banging sounds from down there, I know it.
Followed by a scream that wasn’t Madison’s.
The panel in the wall gives a tiny bit, but something strong is keeping it in place. I don’t know what, and I don’t care, either. I just know we have to get through it.
“Is that smoke?” Damiano points to the base of the floor.
I smell it before I see the wispy gray tendrils creeping upward. Fuck. “Yes. Madison!”
I kick at the doorframe, hoping to weaken whatever hinges or handle might be hidden on the other side. I don’t know what’s going on down there. But we need to get Madison out. Either she’s unconscious, or gagged. Those are the only reasons she wouldn’t call back to us.
“We’re coming, Madison,” I shout. “We’re on our way.”
“I’m calling 911,” Hannah says.
I tune out her conversation with the dispatcher while Damiano and I take turns shoving at the door.
Sweat trickles down my temples. The thick, acrid scent of smoke fills my nostrils.
We kick at where I think the lock might be blocking our progress.
It’s a heavy fucking door, and none of our usual tricks are working on it.
All this time, this door was here. Madison might not have been as alone as she thought she was in this house. It would explain everything, but the thought of her being silently watched from inside her own home makes me sick.
Hannah ends the emergency call. She and Kristoff take turns with the door as well, the four of us crowded into the tiny pantry. We’ve shoved away the shelf that used to sit here . Cans and bottles are scattered all over the floor.
“SEFD is en route.” Hannah kicks aside some cans that are getting in our way.
“They will not get here in time.” Damiano curses as he shoves against the door. “We have to get her out.”
He’s going to hurt himself if he keeps on like he is. We need an ax, or a weapon of some kind. I will find a fucking chainsaw if that’s what it takes.
“Hinges. Someone shoot the hinges.” I point at where I think they are.
Kristoff takes out his weapon, fires at the edge of the door.
The panel falls crookedly. Hannah and Kristoff ease it to the floor as I barrel past them, entering the flickering, orange-lit basement.
A fire roars. I blink through the smoke, struggling to find a sign of Madison.
I have to put my arm over my mouth and nose to keep from choking. Fuck, it’s bad in here. I hope Madison is close to the floor, away from the worst of it. I crouch down, searching.
Damiano is next to me, looking one way while I look the other. It’s impossible to see much at all. We’re surrounded by flames.
“We have to go!” Kristoff shouts. “We’ll get caught otherwise.”
Out of the question. I’m not going anywhere until I find Madison. “You two go,” I shout back. “You and Hannah. We’ll be right after you.”
Kristoff knows me too well. He shakes his head. I have a feeling he’ll stay until the last possible second, if for no other reason than to drag me out.
Good fucking luck. I’m not leaving without her.
A chair lies on its side, strips of fabric coiled next to it. She was tied there, no doubt. When the fire started, her captor probably freed her and…and where are they now?
Kristoff rushes to a form on the floor, which is barely visible through the haze. I see jean-clad legs and nearly choke. Is that Madison?
Through the smoke, large tennis shoes come into view. This isn’t Madison. The legs and feet are too big. My gaze travels upward, past the t-shirt, to take in his face. I don’t recognize him.
Blood pools around the back of his head and his unseeing, gray eyes stare at the ceiling. Flames flicker up and down his arms, melting his shirt to his skin and giving off a grotesque stench.
Kristoff, rather unnecessarily, checks for the guy’s pulse. “He’s dead.”
I want to know who the fuck he is and why he was down here with Madison, but that’s a question for later. First, we have to find our girl.
The room is only about two hundred square feet. She should be here. I know I heard her down here, trying to signal us. It wasn’t that asshole on the floor knocking around.
The four of us stalk back and forth, searching the floor, searching the flames, fearing the worst.
I’ve been up and down my section twice now, and the others have searched as well. There’s no sign of her.
Madison isn’t here.
But she can’t just disappear.
I try to imagine the scenario. The asshole has her down here as a captive, most likely.
She can’t shout for us. He somehow starts the fire—or hell, maybe Madison does, to provide a distraction or an escape.
The guy not-so-tragically dies. Madison is trapped with the fire.
Can she hear us shouting for her? Maybe not—it’s fucking loud with the roar of the flames consuming everything in their path.
She couldn’t hear us, is my guess. So she somehow makes her way…out of the basement. But how? Where?
“Look for another way out!” I raise my gaze through the smoke, to the upper edges of the room. There could be a crawl space, or another secret door. She has to have gone somewhere.
I slip and scramble on magazines as I hurry back across the room. Damiano and the others do the same.
“We have to get out of here soon,” Kristoff warns. “The whole thing could come down on us.”
I can’t worry about that. I need to know where she went. I can’t leave here until we know for certain that she’s safe.
This time, instead of searching the floor, I look along the walls. The basement room is small, but the house’s footprint is much bigger. If this area were blocked off at some point, there could be a lot more space beyond it.
“There.” Damiano points at a gap at a higher point in the wall. Smoke flows up and into the gap. “She went through there.”
MADISON
I’m vaguely aware of someone dragging me somewhere. My thoughts are smoky, and my throat stings. Everything is dark, but I can breathe, at least.
The man carrying me pauses to take off my gag. “Are you okay, Madison?”
His voice is familiar, but it’s too hard to connect the dots in my mind.
I moan. Words are too hard. Even the moan hurts my throat.
Cool air washes over my face and arms. I catch a glimpse of my orange trees. Then bright, emergency lights flash ahead, blinding me. I shut my eyes tight.
“Let her go,” a low voice growls.
“Just let me get her away from the house.” The guy holding me tightens his arms. “A few more steps.”
“If you don’t fucking drop her, I’ll drop you.” That’s Seth—I recognize his voice.
I grasp the sleeve of the guy holding me. Flannel. If I opened my eyes, I would see a plaid pattern, I’m sure of it. “Ford?”
“You’re awake.” He exhales in relief. “I’m so sorry, Madison. So very, very sorry. I didn’t know Cormac was that bad. Can you walk? Here, your boyfriend is coming.”
He helps me stand. I force my stinging eyes to open again. They feel like they’re full of sand, and oh fuck, my head hurts.
“What are you doing with her?” Damiano shouts.
I try to wave at him that we’re okay, but I’m so freaking tired, I’m not sure if my arm even moves. Ford keeps his arm around my waist, holding me up, and walks me to my guys.
I break out of Ford’s hold and stumble toward them. They catch me before I can fall, holding me tight between them.
Police surround us, grabbing Ford. He doesn’t fight them.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I croak out. “He’s okay.”
Nobody hears me, but I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s too much chaos, too much happening. We’ll figure it out later.
“Cormac?” I ask, remembering how he fell, how he didn’t move.
Damiano looks down at me, brows furrowed. “Who?”
“The guy—he was living there. He took me.” I wince. It hurts so much to talk.
Damiano shakes his head. “He is dead.”
I exhale deeply, which causes a fit of coughing. Seth and Damiano rub my back and shoulders.
“Let’s get you to the ambulance,” Seth murmurs. “They’ll fix you right up, okay?”
I nod, afraid to speak through the pain and coughing.
Behind us, the fire rages. Firefighters aim their hoses, trying to quench the flames. I’m sad about the damage to the house, but at least I’m alive.
Damiano and Seth’s firm chests and fierce holds are all the reassurance I need that I’m safe, and the nightmare is over.