CHAPTER 38
My stomach clenches as if I’ve been kicked in the gut. The taste of bile coats the back of my tongue while a wave of horror sweeps over me as I realize how badly I’ve messed up. I don’t think I’ve ever loathed myself as much as I do in this moment.
Not during the years I spent trapped with my high school boyfriend, Matt, when his sheriff daddy made it clear what would happen if I ended the relationship.
Not when I woke up in a serial killer’s basement because I foolishly rushed to question him on my own.
Not even when I came home after twenty years and realized my grandfather had been murdered, and I’d missed seeing him one last time because of a cowardly fear of my hometown.
The look of relief on Jake’s face as he walks through the door is the direct opposite of what must be on mine. As we lock eyes, his expression morphs into confusion. It’s clear I’m not happy to see him. But he doesn’t know why yet.
I want to scream. Yell for him to run. But I know it wouldn’t do any good. He wouldn’t leave. Even if I could somehow convince him to, it’s too late for that.
“Cassie?”
I wince as he steps farther into the warehouse, silently begging him to stop. And he does. But only when he feels the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.
“Well, now. Isn’t this convenient? Here I was, thinking I might be in trouble and now Prince Charming’s come to my rescue.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” I say.
“Oh, I think we all know that it does. Unless you want me to shoot him right here so you can watch.”
“Whatever you had planned, Cassie, still do it,” Jake says.
Garrett jabs the gun into Jake’s skull so hard he stumbles forward. The sound of the slide as the man racks a round into the chamber echoes off the walls.
“Stop!” I shout, tears welling in my eyes. “Please. Don’t.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“For starters, set one of the vials on that crate beside you.”
I do as he says.
“Roll the other one over to me.”
Jake gives me a warning look. Mouths don’t. But what choice do I have? I brought this on us. If something bad happens to him because of that, it will absolutely destroy me. I have to do everything within my power to buy the time to try to get him out of this.
Feeling like a fish that’s been gut hooked, sharp barbs tearing at my insides, I bend down, set the glass container on the floor and give it a push. The tube clatters across the concrete, stopping several feet shy of its target. Keeping the gun aimed at Jake, Garrett steps forward and stomps on it.
“Now, then. Where do we go from here? Decisions, decisions.”
It’s clear from the gleeful smirk Garrett wears that he’s enjoying this.
“I think, to start, us guys are going to get out of here for a while. Give you a little time to cool off. But don’t worry, I’ll be back before you have a chance to miss me. It’s just too bad the same can’t be said about Loverboy here.”
My head’s shaking from side to side. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. If I let that man leave with Jake, I may never see him again.
“You don’t—”
“But I do,” Garrett cuts me off. “You’ve been a very ungrateful guest. I want you to think about that while I’m gone. And what you can do to try and make it up to me when I get back.”
He gives Jake a shove toward the door, but Jake plants his feet, refusing to leave. I cover my eyes, afraid of what I might see. My voice is thick with grief as I say, “Jake, please. I love you.”
His voice is full of defeat as he answers, “I love you too, Cassie. Always have. Always will. You’ll find a way to get through this.”
But as I lower my hands until our eyes meet, I’m not sure that I will. Because Jake didn’t say we would get through this. He believes that I alone will survive what happens. And I’m terrified that he might be right.
This is all my fault. If I had told him what I had planned, he wouldn’t be here right now. He’d be safe.
Until this moment, this was only about me. I’m the one Janine wants gone. I’m the one who caused this to happen.
Now, I can only pray that the consequences are mine alone to bear, that Janine’s reach will be enough to keep Jake safe. The grin that Garrett gives me as he shoves Jake outside, though, let’s me know that it’s not.
I’m on my way across the room before the door is even closed. It slams with a deafening bang. I’m close enough to hear the lock click. Grabbing the knob, I give it a twist, but it won’t move.
Dropping to my knees, I study the latch. The strike plate has a raised bar, concealing the deadbolt. There’s no way to get to it to try and pry it open.
I look around for something to knock the pins on the hinges up, but the only things I see that might work are the nails holding the crates together.
Even if I managed to pry one of the crossbars off, I’d have to then get one of the nails out of the wood in order to use it and most appear to have been driven in at an angle.
There’s no telling how long that might take to do with my bare hands.
I’m trapped. If I don’t get out of here, Jake is dead. Even if I do, I have no idea how I’ll be able to find him to save him. But one thing at a time.
There are no windows in the building. Just corrugated metal walls. The concrete floor. The ventilation fans on the ceiling, two stories up. My gaze trails from the slowly spinning blades to the towers of crates beneath them.
It’s a crazy idea. I’ll probably break my neck trying. But what’s the alternative? I wait for Garrett to come back and find out what he has in store for me?
I walk over to the highest tower of crates. Try to gauge how far it is from the nearest fan opening. Realize it doesn’t really matter and start climbing.
Placing the toe of my tennis shoe on the thin crossbar, I reach up as high as I can.
My arms tremble as I pull myself up. My legs do, too.
It’s a shock to discover how weak my body feels.
How quickly fatigue sets in. The way my head begins to throb, my pulse making the tender flesh over my bruised temple ache.
But the pain doesn’t make me give up. Instead, it takes my despair and turns it into something else. Fury.
I’m enraged by the men out in the woods. By Garrett. But most of all, by Janine. And the best revenge will be getting out of here and living a long, happy life with her son.
I vow to do exactly that as splinters gouge into my palms. My fingernails bend painfully and break. The rusty head of a nail snags against my shin, tearing my skin open. Each new injury fuels my anger and strengthens my resolve. I will get out of here.
There was a time when this climb wouldn’t have been a challenge for me. When I would have done it just for kicks. Suddenly, my weight isn’t such a heavy burden on my limbs as memories wrap themselves around me, drawing me back into the past.
I’m four years old. Jake and I sit side by side on the branch of an oak, swinging our legs. A warm breeze ruffles the leaves around us. The scents of the swamp, sulfur and sweet grass, tickle my nose.
Tipping my head back, I peer through the branches above us. Jake wraps one of his hands around my arm. Holds onto me as he warns, “Careful.”
Shifting my gaze to his, I ask, “What do you think the sky feels like?”
“Like the air around us. It’s the same.”
Shaking my head, an act that threatens to upset my balance, causing his grip on me to tighten, I say, “I mean the sky up there.” I point toward the patches of blue visible through the canopy above us. “I want to touch it.”
“Cassie,” he warns.
“I’m going.”
“It’s too high. It isn’t safe.”
“Will you come with me?”
I hold out my hand. Jake looks at it for a long minute before he takes it and smiles, revealing his missing front tooth.
“Always.”
Pausing on a narrow ledge, I blink back tears from the memory. Shake out my arms and take a couple of deep breaths. Then I continue to climb.
I don’t look up. I focus only on my next handhold, my next move, my next step. I can already feel the draft of the fan drying the perspiration on my face.
And then I’ve done it, found myself on top of the uppermost crate. There’s nowhere left to climb.
I lie on my back. Curl my knees to my chest. And kick.
The grate holding the fan in place gives on the first strike. Standing on my toes, I move it aside, then jump. Squirm as I struggle to lift myself through the square-shaped hole, worming my way inch by inch, the edge digging into my chest, then my ribs, then my stomach.
The sun beats down mercilessly as I flop on top of the flat, asphalted roof, panting. Sweat stings my eyes. The heat bakes my skin, wicking what little moisture I retain from my system. I’m out of the warehouse, but now I have a much bigger problem—getting off of it.