The house looked the same as the last time she’d been here to help Carla remove the last of the paint supplies. She’d barely been able to make it downstairs into the basement to look at Carla’s handiwork. The contractor who had been hired to install the flooring was a Mexican man named Juan Pablo. Carla had been recommended to him by a friend from the casino. Maria was sure the man had no papers which was more or less why Carla had hired him. They wanted someone who was interested in doing the work and avoiding the police. The last thing they needed was a nosy contractor inspecting the floor and noticing the blood underneath the paint. Probably not something they needed to worry about since Carla had done an amazing job covering everything up, but better safe than sorry.
Michael watched her looking at the house.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Let’s just get in and get out,” Maria said.
“You really think she’s here?”
“I hope so,” Maria said.
They made their way up the walkway. The sun had fallen, and the house was a cave of shadows. They went around the house checking windows. Every opening was covered with blackout curtains, a new addition that cemented Maria’s surety that Carla was here.
At the sliding glass back door, Maria shone her light to where the brace should be, blocking the door from being opened. The brace was up. She tried the door, but it was locked at the handle.
Michael went to the car for a screwdriver.
Maria pressed her ear to the glass. Heard nothing. She stepped away from the door. Looked up at the night sky and remembered standing here with her mother during her brother’s wake. Barely two months ago now, but it felt like years had passed. She heard a whirring and looked at the corner of the house. A camera had been installed. It spun around and focused on her.
They were at the right house.
Michael came around the corner.
“We don’t have much time,” Maria said.
Michael didn’t ask for an explanation. He jammed the screwdriver under the sliding glass door frame and stepped on it, lifting the door up and clicking open the lock. He slid it open and pulled the curtain back.
Maria headed inside. The room was empty, no furniture, no people.
Michael followed her.
“Clear the upstairs, I’m going down into the basement,” Maria said.
“Basement?” Michael said.
Maria didn’t wait to explain. She went straight for the stairs, took them down two at a time and shone her flashlight around the pitch-black room until she saw the chair against the far wall.
There Carla was, head limp, facing a massive standing mirror.
In the corner, another camera whirred around, following Maria’s movements. She headed for the corner, turned her gun around so she was grabbing it by the barrel and reached up and smashed the camera. It took her two or three good swipes, but the lens cracked and fell off and then the camera itself fell to the ground.
Carla groaned. Her head was moving side to side but slowly.
Maria shined the flashlight around the basement. There was nothing here except for the chair, the mirror, Carla, and the recently installed hardwood floors. No ticking bombs or tricks, just Carla handcuffed to the chair.
Maria approached the chair. Still nervous she was missing something.
But there were no windows here. No way a sniper could hit them.
She took another step toward Carla. Shined the flashlight up and down the wall. Nothing.
Behind her, Michael was coming down the stairs. He shined his flashlight on them. Let loose a low whistle.
“Is there a light switch around here?” Michael asked.
“Don’t touch anything,” Maria said.
“A little paranoid?” Michael said.
“After that shack, I think it’s warranted. Besides, they know we’re here,” Maria said.
Maria walked around the chair. Stepped between Carla and the mirror. Her head bobbed, slightly.
Maria reached out and took the blindfold off. Held Carla’s chin and pulled her face up. Her eyes were open but unfocused. She blinked twice. She was trying to get it together but whatever she’d been drugged with was still too heavy in her system. When Maria took her hand away, Carla’s chin fell back down.
“You have handcuff keys?” Maria asked.
“Yeah,” Michael said. He put his gun away and pulled out his handcuff keys. Moved forward to kneel and unlock the cuffs.
Then Maria saw the thin black thread.
“Wait,” she said.
Michael looked up at her. Asked what was wrong.
“Don’t move,” she said.
She ran the flashlight straight above Carla and saw the thread run up into an alcove.
“We need a chair or a ladder,” Maria said.
The five minutes it took for Michael to return with a step ladder seemed like an hour. Maria wondered if Carla’s kidnapper was already on his way here. Would he be waiting outside in a car, rifle pointed out an open window? She’d overcome that problem soon enough. Now she had to see where this thread went.
Michael used the step ladder to follow the thread up to a platform drilled in the beams. Nestled against the wall and completely hidden from view was a grenade. The thread ran from a link in the handcuffs to the pin. If Carla or the handcuffs moved too far, the grenade would be primed. Using the black had been devilishly smart, she almost hadn’t seen it. It was so thin and blended right in.
Michael cut the thread with his knife and climbed down.
Carla mumbled something.
Maria leaned down. Kissed her cheek. Told her she was there.
“I knew you’d come,” Carla said. “I knew it.”
Michael unlocked the cuffs, and Maria pulled Carla out of the chair and guided her up the stairs. Michael had brought a blanket in from his car and wrapped it around Carla.
“Now comes the hard part. Getting her out of here,” Maria said.
“Not at all. Now is when we get help,” Michael said.
Two minutes later the area was swarming with police, sirens blaring, lights flashing. The SWAT team positioned snipers on the roof of the house, peering out in every direction. Two helicopters hovered watching the area. There were so many police around that nobody would dare risk taking a shot. And just in case they missed something, two different ambulances backed up to the garage, one had Carla safely placed inside and the other was a decoy.
Maria had never been so grateful to be a police officer.
“We almost went boom, huh?” Michael said.