Chapter Twenty-One

Toodles? Who said toodles nowadays?

I lay on the floor for a while. How to get out of the mess raced like the Indy 500 in my brain. Damn, damn, damn. I was stuck and I had the urge to pee and I hurt beyond hurt. I rolled around and contorted my body so I could finger the fabric tying my ankles. Miss A. used tulle to tie me up, and the tulle wouldn’t budge. The little “old lady” tied a tough knot.

As I stared at the industrial light fixture hanging from the joists, I felt the cold from the concrete floor seep into my shoulders. No one would think to look for me for a long while, especially with Miss A.’s phone call to Jenny confirming we were working late, the “closed” sign on the shop door, and my car missing from the parking lot.

I needed to get out of here. I couldn’t miss my sister's wedding. My friends and family knew I would be front and center.

Maybe Allan could read my mind. He’d done so before. If I focused on him and let the brainwaves do their magic… Something could happen. Better than nothing.

I closed my eyes and transmitted, “Please come get me, Allan. Please come. I’m in the storeroom. Please. Please. Please.”

I waited for what seemed like an eternity, but probably was only a minute. Nothing. Didn’t the hunky cop rescue the damsel in distress in the movies? The one time I asked for help through his telepathic capabilities, and I got a Big Fat Nothing.

The nothing knowledge caused tears to leak out the corners of my eyes. I blinked hard and fast. I will not cry. Will not cry. Will not.

Anger flared in my soul. Where is my hero?

Cut Allan some slack, Hattie. Who in the wide world can read minds? Maybe he doesn’t do telepathy. Or perhaps enough time hasn’t passed.

Damn, damn, damn.

I was stuck on the storeroom’s floor for more time than I knew. I rolled to my side, tucked my knees to my chest, and maneuvered my tied arms along the back of my bent legs, scraping my skin with the tulle rope. I paused to shove back the pain. Over my bottom, around my ankles, until my arms were in front of me. The ringing of the phone on the desk above my head caught my ear. Hope unfurled in my chest. I turned my head toward the sound. I wished I could answer. I butt-scooted to the desk, lifted my legs, and smacked my bound feet against the side. The desk wobbled, a high heel flew off and bonked me on the forehead, but the phone didn’t budge.

Eventually, the rings ceased, and the answering machine turned on. I heard Jenny say, “Hattie, what's going on? Miss A. left an odd message, saying you’re working late. I don’t get it. I vaguely remember you said something about coming home early—right? Isn’t tonight the last tango lesson? I’m positive you wouldn’t miss the fun. He-he-he. Anyway, I tried your cell and left a message, too. Call me. Now.”

Being tied up meant making phone calls impossible. At least, Jenny figured out something strange brewed. Maybe her brainwaves could connect with Allan.

In the meantime, I thought. I needed an escape plan because staying in this shithole of an office and waiting endless hours until someone could ride to the rescue—not happening.

God, I’m exhausted. I lifted my shoulders off the floor, then flopped back. My heart raced. Maybe I had low blood sugar. Maybe weak from the blow on the beaner. All I knew, the world whirled. And then, I blanked out.

****

I woke with massive spasmodic coughing. An oddly different, sharp acrid odor permeated the room. My nose scrunched. Definitely not the lovely lavender scent I usually sprayed in the store, the one the girl at the Sommerville Soap Company said imbued an “atmosphere of relaxation and harmony.”

When the smell passed through a second time, I coughed, and concern filtered in my head. The smell continued to roll in, longer and more defined like-like a wood fire, which would be possible because the temp outside could turn a little nippy as the days drew closer to Christmastime.

And then, the most horrible thought of all creation burst through my brain. Is Wedding Wonderland on fire?

Panic seized my chest. Surely not. I’d be in big trouble. If so, where’s the fire department? Where are the sirens? Where’s Allan?

Moisture clouded my eyes. I would’ve been missed by now. Jenny, did you connect with Allan?

Bam, bam, bam. My pity-party disappeared as I stared at the office door. Someone outside hammered the shop’s front entry. Could this person be my rescue?

“Hey. Hey. Help. Help. I need help.” The louder I shouted, the more I coughed. The smoke grew thicker. My throat scratched like scrubbing brush bristles. Unable to utter a word, I choked. My gaze shifted over the storage room. Everything appeared blurry like pale gray shadows shaded the shapes. The smoke alarm blared a loud alert siren with the warning for “everyone to exit the premises.” The sound stung my ears.

“Help!”—Cough, cough. I believed no one heard me. No one knew what happened.

The shop’s door crashed open. “Sommerville Fire Department. Hattie Cooks. Hattie Cooks. Are you here?”

“You circle that way,” another someone said. “I’ll go to the back. Be careful. This place could collapse soon.”

Faintly, I cried a gravelly “Help,” which bordered on useless. At the back of the store in a room with a closed door—who would hear me? Cough, cough.

“Hurry. The fire’s spreading.”

“Ceiling is about to fall. Let’s go.”

When I recognized the sound of retreating footsteps, fright gripped my chest. My heart squeezed so hard, it hurt. Will I make it out of here alive?

“Did you check the whole store?”

That voice. That’s Allan’s voice. Allan. It sounded clear and strong. He did hear me after all. Like a germinating seed, possibility curled throughout my body. He’s here. He’s here. Come to me.

“A preliminary check.”

“My girlfriend, Hattie Cooks, works at Wonderland,” Allan said. “I have a funny feeling she’s inside the store.”

“We’ll go in again, detective, but it's gonna be tricky.”

A great cloud of smoke seeped in the gap at the bottom of the storage room door—cough, cough. I shifted my body, so my feet rested against the wood. If only I could stand up. I rolled to a nearby chair, lifted my legs, and banged them on the seat.

“Hattie Cooks. Sommerville Fire Department. Are you here?”

I sure felt pathetic. I screamed one last time. “Allan.”

Nothing.

“We can’t find her.”

Allan, I’m right here. Please, please, please, don’t leave me.

I kicked the chair again. My legs collapsed. Rolling to the door, I punched it with my feet once, twice. My energy was zapped. I could barely lift my lead-filled legs. Live? Or die? I had to try.

As I struck the door a third, then a fourth time, I sent help me to Allan. Could he read my mind?

“Hattie’s in the store. I know it,” Allan said.

I gave one last bam and dropped to my side. I wiggled my body like a caterpillar to put my mouth at the opening between the door and the threshold. “Help.”

All of a sudden, someone shoved the storeroom door. I found myself smashed between the door and the wall. The hard push against my body knocked the breath from me. Heaviness settled on my chest. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. Not even mumble.

“Nobody’s in here. I don’t know what the cop’s talking about. I don’t see anyone. We gotta get out of here before the ceiling caves.”

As I lay on my side, trapped behind the door, I determined the only choice I had—save myself. The wiggling like a caterpillar worked a while ago; however, it didn’t get me far fast.

I am out of options.

I wormed my shoulder forward and pressed my knees against the floor. Bit by bit, I somehow crept from behind the door. Then I bunched my arms and legs to my chest in a ball, rolled sideways to the doorway, and over the threshold.

Pain shot through my shoulder. God. Tears flooded my eyes. I batted them away. I had to continue.

A flickering glow from the opposite side of the store where the wedding gowns hung captured my eye. The flames licked along a dress's hem and fast-crawled to the waist in a huge swoosh.

Shit. I looked to the blue sky visible beyond the front door and back toward the dresses. That would not be me.

As the flames licked higher and the heat intensified, I slowly rolled and rolled past the side of the platform, past the blue velour banquette and the reception area. Behind me, the storeroom ceiling dropped in a horrendous crash. Flicks of ash flew around me. Cinders stung my arms and legs. I smelled burnt hair and prayed my whole head wasn’t on fire as I continued.

Rolling while bound took plenty of stamina, but if I stopped, I wouldn't survive. And this gal would cheat death with every ounce she possessed. I spooled past the desk—only twelve more feet—and finally reached the shop’s front door. Grateful the firemen busted it open, I gulped and gasped. Behind me, I heard another crash.

I edged over the threshold. The concrete sidewalk tore my blouse. My scraped shoulder felt like raw meat. Coughs consumed me.

I made it.

I closed my eyes, not thinking, not feeling, only surviving. Waterworks of relief splattered my cheeks. My bound arms fell to my chest as my gaze turned to the dark sky. I needed to move a little farther along. Inhaling, I continued to creep my way to the curb bordering the sidewalk.

Ultimately exhaustion ruled, and I could move no more. I collapsed in a fetal pose, totally spent. I barely took in the grackles winging their way to the phone lines.

While I waited, I closed my eyes. I didn’t dare open them to look for my Jeep because if Miss A. had taken my baby like she said she would, my heart would shatter in a bazillion pieces. I didn’t dare open them to watch Wedding Wonderland go up in flames, knowing I could have been stuck inside. I didn’t dare open them to see Allan’s concerned face because if I did, I would cry again and I didn’t want to hear him repeat the words, “another job,” because he was right.

I heard the shouts of the firemen as they worked to save the men's store next to Wonderland. The hum of the fire engines. The sizzle as water extinguished the flames.

Footsteps stopped by my head. “Hey. Over here.”

A stampede rushed to my side. Someone cut the tulle away. “Are you Hattie Cooks, the woman the detective asked us to look for?”

I fluttered my eyes open. I wanted to say yes, but only a sound, like from a goose with tonsillitis, burst forth. A paramedic swooped me into his arms and carried me to an ambulance. Someone slipped an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” someone else said.

I stared upwards, only seeing the outline of face shapes and eyeballs. All became…light.