Eighteen

Once Nicole was inside the house, she closed the door and locked it. Glancing up at the broken window, she realized she’d been silly to bother. The kidnappers had the key. Besides, once they spotted the shattered window, they’d know someone had broken in.

The lights on the street above provided enough illumination for her to see that she was in a kitchen. The air was musty and smelled of a combination of mildew and rancid cooking oil. The latter no doubt came from a big, ancient stove that loomed in one corner. Combined with these odors was a nasty undertone of something she couldn’t identify. The smell compounded her sense of unease.

The kitchen was sparsely furnished, just a table and two chairs, along with the stove, which looked as if it hadn’t been used in decades. Next to it was an equally old refrigerator, its door hanging by a single hinge.

Just then, she noticed a flashlight someone had left on the counter by the sink. She turned it on, took note of its nice, strong beam, and turned it off again. This would definitely come in handy. She pulled her gun out of her purse and dropped the flashlight in.

She held the gun in front of her as she started through the house. The next doorway led into what appeared to be the living room. It was sparsely furnished with just a metal TV stand and a dilapidated chair with stuffing leaking through its tattered upholstery. At one end of the room was a door. She opened it and found herself looking outdoors from the top of the front stairway. The view took in the yard, dark and utterly still. Beyond it, tree-covered hills were backlit by the glow of the city.

It didn’t take long to go through the rest of the house. There were two small bedrooms. Each contained a single bedframe and springs, no mattress. She used the flashlight to investigate the closets. As far as she could see they were empty of everything but resident spiders and their webs.

She opened each door she passed. Next to the bedrooms, she found a tiny bathroom. As soon as she opened the door, she could tell this was the source of the stink she’d noticed when she walked in. It smelled as if something had died and been left to rot here. The shower curtain, opaque with mold, was pulled tight, hiding whatever was beyond it. With some trepidation, she pulled the curtain aside, got out her flashlight, and pointed the beam in the bathtub. To her relief, there was no dead rat or something she feared even more. Instead, the tub was black and crusty with a thick residue that emitted a terrible smell, probably from a sewage backup. When she left the bathroom, she closed the door, although the smell seemed to follow her as she circled back through the house, rechecking each dark corner and closet again. Convinced that no one was here, she put the gun in a pocket of her jacket.

She was disappointed to find no evidence that Steph had ever been in this house. The place looked as if it had been uninhabited for years. She hadn’t found a door leading to the space under the house. Perhaps it wasn’t a basement, just crawl space, accessible through an opening outside. Before she left, she’d have to find a way to see what was down there.

She was standing in the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do next, when she had an idea. Growing up, she and Steph had bedrooms that shared a wall. They had a secret signal that meant, “I can’t sleep. Are you awake?” She kneeled on the floor and tapped it out: two knocks, a silence, then three more knocks and another silence, followed by a single knock. She jumped at the sound of footsteps coming from below. They grew louder, as if someone was climbing stairs. When they stopped, the signal was repeated back to her. The sound wasn’t directly beneath her but from the direction of the kitchen.

Nicole’s heart leapt at the sound, and she felt her eyes well up. Steph was here; she really was! “Steph,” she called. “Where are you?”

“In the basement.”

“How do I get to you? Is the entrance outside?”

“No. It’s in the house somewhere. The door has a hole cut in it with a flap attached. When it’s open, I can see into a hallway.”

“I’ll look around some more,” Nicole said. She made another tour of the kitchen, using the flashlight to explore the dark corner next to the refrigerator. This illuminated a hallway she hadn’t seen in her earlier search. The hall led to a service porch containing an ancient preautomatic washer. Its tub was round and capacious enough for commercial use, mounted on wheels so it could be rolled out of the way. Nevertheless, it was sitting in the center of the utility room, jutting out into the hallway. Next to it was a rusty step stool. She’d seen photos of washers like this but had never run across one in real life. It was an antique and, if it were in better shape, might have been worth something. But this one, like the kitchen appliances, was no more than junk. Its enamel finish had worn off, and the tub had several holes where rust had eaten through.

At the end of the hallway was a door that matched Steph’s description. It had a hole cut in it. The flap that covered it was attached to the door at the bottom with hinges and a hook-and-eye latch at the top.

Nicole put her head against the door. “You there?”

“Right on the other side,” Steph answered. “Can you get it open?”

Nicole tried the doorknob. “It’s locked and there’s no key.” She studied the doorknob, which had a keyhole in the middle. It would be simple to open, if she had the tension wrench to go with her lock pick. It also would have helped if she actually remembered how it was done. Well, she thought, it was worth a try.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m going to see if I can find something to pick the lock.”

There wasn’t much in the kitchen cupboards, but one of the drawers yielded up a rusty paring knife with a fairly sharp point. Maybe this would do.

Nicole took it back to the basement door. “Hold tight,” she told Steph. “I’ve got some tools that might work.” She got down on her knees. Positioning the flashlight between her shoulder and neck, she managed to aim it so the beam fell on the doorknob. She stuck the pick into the lock and then the point of the knife, which she began to wiggle around. Nothing happened. Anxiety was making her hands shake. She had to free Steph and get her out of here before the kidnappers came back. She reversed the tools and jiggled them until she heard a loud click. Her first thought was that her efforts had paid off, and she’d managed to unlock the door. But when she pulled out the knife, she saw this hadn’t happened. Instead, the knifepoint had broken off and was stuck in the lock.

At that moment, a hand gripped her shoulder while another was clamped over her mouth. She struggled to pull away, then bit down hard on the hand.

“Ow!” someone hissed in her ear. “It’s me—Arnault. I covered your mouth so you wouldn’t scream when I came up behind you.” He released her and added, “We have to keep quiet. A car just pulled up on the street above. I don’t know who’s in it, but I think we’d better get out of here as soon as possible. Is your sister locked in here?”

“Yes. I tried to pick the lock. The point of the knife I was using broke off in it. I think it’s hopeless.”

He pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket, along with a leather case. From this, he took out tools she recognized as proper lock picks. “Here,” he said, handing her the flashlight. “Shine the light on the doorknob.”

As she did this, she said, “How did you find me?”

“I slipped a GPS device into your purse. That was why I dropped by your office twice today. I meant to do it in the morning, but your purse wasn’t out, so I had to make a second visit.”

“You planted a GPS on me? Is that even legal?”

“What? You’re going to report me?” He gave a snort of laughter. By now, he’d extracted the knifepoint and was working on the lock. “I really do wish you’d listened to me and not come here on your own.”

She didn’t say anything. The fact was that she’d found Steph on her own, and she’d learned the whereabouts of the kidnappers, all on her own. She reached into her pocket for the grocery receipt where she’d written the address of the kidnapper’s hideout. She handed it to Arnault and explained what it was.

“Wow!” he said. “Good work!” He quickly slipped it in his pocket and resumed working on the lock. A moment later, he managed to get the door open. Steph appeared and stumbled past him to throw her arms around Nicole. They both started to cry. After three days in someone else’s dirty clothes, without access to soap, hot water, or deodorant, Steph smelled. Nicole didn’t care, but when she put her cheek against Steph’s she noticed how hot it was. Steph turned away to let out a croupy cough.

“You’re sick!” Nicole said.

“A bit,” Steph said. “Three days in that cold, damp basement.”

Just then a car door slammed on the street above, and they heard the sound of men’s voices. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, but they were getting louder as they approached the house.

Arnault gave Nicole a shove. “Quick! Hide. We can’t let them find you. Once they do, it’s all over. They’ll force you to wire transfer the money and kill us all. Stephanie, go back downstairs.”

Nicole looked around. The only possible hiding place was the big tub of the old washer. She used the step stool to hoist herself up and tumbled into the tub. She was surprised to find she still had her purse on her arm.

She could hear the men shouting just outside. In a flash, they were running through the kitchen into the hallway. They stopped at the doorway to the basement, just past where she was hiding.

She wondered where Arnault could be. Maybe he’d taken advantage of the darkness to blend into the shadows.

The men—there were two of them—seemed to think the basement door was still locked. “You know where the key is?” one of them said.

“Yeah,” the other answered. “It’s on the ledge above the door.” Nicole recognized the voice. It was Kevin James from the bank. She’d had a hunch he might be involved, but hadn’t really believed this polite, soft-spoken young man could be mixed up in kidnapping and murder.

“Hands up! Police!” It was Arnault, who had emerged from wherever he’d been hiding. There was a crashing sound; a gun went off, and there were sounds of a struggle.

Someone—she had a feeling it was Arnault—seemed to have been pushed down the basement stairs. She could hear him noisily tumbling down in what seemed like an endless series of thumps. The door was slammed behind him. Then everything went silent.

Nicole was still, holding her breath. Her heart was beating loudly in her throat, and she was shaking, trying to hold back the sobs bubbling up inside her.

“What the hell, Ryan?” Kevin said. “That fall could have killed him.”

“So?” Ryan said. “We’d be getting rid of those two anyway.”

“Says who?”

“Don’t be so dense,” Ryan said. “You know Ashley was never going to free Stephanie. The same goes for the cop.” He was silent a moment before he said, “Hey,” as if something had just occurred to him. “How do we know that guy didn’t have a phone on him? He could call for backup. We need to search him when we go down to get the woman.”

“Don’t worry about his phone.” Kevin’s voice was soft, placating. “There’s no signal up here, remember? That means he can’t call anybody. Even if he managed to get out of the basement. We can make sure he can’t go anywhere. I spotted a car parked on Kirkwood on our way up. It was way up on the curb, but the street’s so narrow I had to slow down and inch around it. The street’s plastered with no-parking signs. That car’s got to be his. No one but a cop would park like that. We’ll stop on the way out and make sure it’s out of commission. Even if he manages to get out of the basement, he won’t have any way to get help until we’re long gone.

“Down to business,” Kevin went on. “We’re here for one reason—to get Stephanie and bring her back with us. Ashley wants to take her to the new hideout. Let’s go down and get her.”

“Wait,” Ryan said. “What if that cop has an ankle holster with a second gun? If he’s still on his feet, he could be waiting for us. We’ll have to shove that washer aside so we can open the door all the way and have a clear view before we go down.”

A moment later, Nicole felt the washing machine move, then start to roll. It hit the wall with a thud and ricocheted against something else. The impact threw Nicole off balance. Her head bumped against the tub, and she let out a cry.

Almost immediately, a flashlight was shining in her eyes, blinding her. Hands grabbed her and roughly pulled her out of the tub.

“Well, look what we’ve got here,” Ryan said. Noticing the purse she was clutching, he snatched it away and dropped it on the floor. He turned to Kevin. “Open the basement door. We’ll leave this one locked in the basement and take her sister back to Ashley.”

“Wait,” Nicole said. “Take me instead. All Ashley wants is my money, and I’m the only one who can get it for her. If I go with you now, we can get to the bank first thing in the morning.”

“She has a point,” Kevin said. “This will save time.” He reached over to lock the basement door.

“Aren’t we going to nail it shut?” Ryan said.

“No need. When we get done with that cop’s car, the two of them are stuck here with no way to call for help.

Nicole was shaking with apprehension. Her gun was still in her pocket, and she was certain they’d search her and take it away. But somehow it didn’t occur to Kevin or Ryan that she might be armed. They didn’t bother looking in her pockets or patting her down. Instead, they each grabbed an arm and hustled her out of the house.