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THE TUNNEL EXHALED moist, earth-scented air. A dozen plank steps led down to a brick-walled passage with a tamped dirt floor and wooden ceiling. The reason we could see all this is that the lights had been left on here as well. However, while the bulb in the storage room was the old-style incandescent type, forty pathetic watts at most, the one hanging in the tunnel was a modern, energy-efficient fluorescent bulb that emitted lumens galore.
Sexy Beast growled softly, his dark little gaze unblinking as he stared into the underground passage. I decided I’d rather not know what manner of critter his high-powered nose detected.
Next to the staircase was a scarred wooden ramp. My overstressed brain flashed on an image of wheelchair-bound smugglers before it came to me. Hokum’s men probably slid cases of liquor down this ramp.
We began speaking in whispers. We both knew Jonah Diamond might be somewhere in that tunnel, if he hadn’t already exited from the other end about a quarter mile away. We had no desire to alert him to our presence.
The padre said, “Boarded up, huh?”
“That’s what everyone believes,” I said. “Looks like someone wanted to keep the tunnel to themselves.”
“Yeah, someone who had access to this building long enough to erect a fake wall and an invisible doorway,” he said. “Not to mention enough bread to get the job done and buy the workers’ silence. You said Hokum Hannigan owned the place?”
I nodded. “After he died, Nina’s parents donated both buildings to the town—this one and the Historical Society. For tax purposes.”
“When was that?”
“Sometime in the nineties. Nina’s folks were well off, like Ben said. I never met them, but I heard stories about how eccentric and secretive they were. I wouldn’t put something like this past them.” I gestured toward the clever brick door, which I now saw had an interior latch so it could be opened and closed from the inside.
“So they deed the buildings to the town but keep the cool smuggling tunnel in the family,” he said.
“Looks that way. Which would mean that Nina knows about the tunnel and how to get into it. She probably inherited the keys.” I indicated the open padlock. “And I know that she’s in charge of the Prohibition museum, which is in the basement of the Historical Society. That has to be where the second entrance is hidden.”
“So she and Jonah were getting it on in the tunnel,” he said. “Their own secret trysting spot.”
“You think so?” I made a face. “How romantic.”
“It would explain why Ben could never track them down. Nina gives Jonah the key to this door so he can sneak into the tunnel during trips to the bakery. Meanwhile she goes into the Historical Society a few blocks away—”
“Which she does practically every day,” I said.
“—and all anyone sees is two people entering two different buildings.”
“They slip into the tunnel separately,” I said, “meet somewhere in the middle, and what, make whoopee in some dark, disgusting corner?”
“Maybe not so dark and disgusting. Remember, this place is all theirs. They can fix it up any way they want. Maybe there’s some kind of underground honeymoon suite back there.” He descended the steps, which creaked alarmingly under his weight.
“Don’t do that. He might be in there.” I didn’t add what we both had to be thinking: that if Nina had been murdered, her body could be stashed somewhere in there. The hairs on my nape stood up and saluted that possibility. “Let’s go find Bonnie.”
“In a minute. I just want a quick look.” He took a few steps into the passage and gestured for me to join him. “Come on, we’ll probably never get another chance.”
Gingerly I walked down a few rickety steps, peering into the murky recesses beyond the reach of the light, clutching SB’s tote to my chest. I shivered, whether from excitement or fear, I couldn’t say—probably a heart-thumping mixture of both. “They say it’s not safe.” I was still whispering.
“Who’s ‘they’?” He strolled a little farther, looking around. “The same folks who claimed the entryways were boarded up?”
I took the last steps but stayed put at the bottom of them. Loose bricks lay scattered on the dirt floor. “The walls aren’t holding up too well. And look.” I pointed to the ceiling where the wooden planks that held back thousands of tons of earth were rotting and even missing in places. Massive vertical timbers had been placed along the sides for support, but they, too, had seen better days.
“Don’t you know? That’s part of the allure of doing it in a place like this.” He wagged his eyebrows. “A little danger to spice things up.”
I had one hand inside the tote, restraining a squirming Sexy Beast, who was all too curious about this strange new place. “I’m out of here, Padre. And I’m locking the door behind me.” Never mind that I didn’t have the key.
He lifted a piece of wood with some kind of writing on it—probably part of an old liquor crate. “Where’s your sense of wonder, Jane?”
“It’s cowering behind my sense of self-preservation, if you must know.”
He tossed the artifact and ambled back to me, shaking his head in regret at the lost opportunity. “All right, let’s go get the cops up to speed on all this.” His mouth quirked. “Never thought I’d hear myself say those words.”
I turned to go back up the stairs just as a supersized rat ran across my foot. I screamed and flailed my legs, losing my balance and landing on my butt in the dirt. SB leapt out of the tote with a ferocious bark and took off after the rat, both animals swiftly disappearing into the tunnel.
“SB!” I ran full tilt after him, my legs moving before my brain could catch up. “SB, you get back here right now, do you hear me?”
“SB, come!” Martin shouted, sprinting past me into the near darkness beyond. Unlike me, he had the presence of mind to use a command the dog would understand, if SB even heard us. With each passing second, his shrill barks became fainter and fainter. He might be a runty toy poodle, but those little legs could eat up the ground when he was motivated.
I kept running, sweating now, concentrating on Martin’s footfalls ahead as the passage curved and the inky shadows succumbed to the glare of another fluorescent bulb. The lights were strung at regular intervals along the length of the tunnel, I discovered as we ran deeper and deeper into it. Prohibition-era detritus littered the route: empty bottles, the remains of wooden crates, a rusted handcart lying on its side.
I caught up with Martin when he stopped where a side tunnel branched off the main passage. He was breathing hard, listening intently, trying to ascertain which direction the dog had gone. We heard no barking, no rat squeals, no nothing.
“Oh God oh God oh God,” I muttered, imagining Sexy Beast catching up to the rat and wondering how much damage the disgusting, disease-ridden beast was liable to inflict. Then my imagination turned it into a swarm of rats, then a veritable tidal wave of rats ganging up on my poor SB. There’s never just one rat, right?
“Stop it,” Martin said.
“What?”
“We’re going to find him. He’s not going to get eaten by rats. So just stop it.”
I took a deep breath, my heart still banging from exertion and fear. I nodded. It was disorienting being underground. I wondered how far we’d gone and which end of the tunnel was now closest. A light bulb hung nearby, so I had a good view of the sagging and broken ceiling planks, the dirt and rubble that had sifted down from the gaps between them, and the half-rotted support timbers.
The mouth of the side tunnel was in the worst shape, partially blocked by fallen bricks and ceiling debris, and held up only by a pair of heavy, tall timbers. A cluster of tools stood propped against a wall. Sledgehammer. Ax. Shovel.
A body could be buried in the dirt under my feet and who would ever know?
Martin cupped his mouth and in a booming, alpha-male roar, commanded, “SB! Come!”
From deep within the side tunnel came a response, only it wasn’t SB. The voice was decidedly human, but muffled behind something. We looked at each other.
He said, “You stay here in case the dog comes this way.”
I gave another shaky nod. I knew it made sense for us to separate, though I wasn’t happy about it. I watched him sidestep the pile of bricks and enter the side tunnel, which was in total darkness and extended who knew how far. I saw a small, bright light and knew he’d switched on his little flashlight.
“Hello?” he called. “Can you tell me where you are?”
I heard the faint voice again, shrill and agitated. It was definitely female. One person came immediately to mind and I felt a glimmer of hope. Nina Wallace might not be my favorite person, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered. As for the other missing creature...
“SB!” My voice cracked. Sweat dried on my skin, chilling me. “Come, boy. Come to Mommy so I can wring your little neck.”
Martin’s voice reverberated off the brick walls. “Keep talking,” he told whoever was back there. “I’ll find you.”
The response was a hysterical outburst, still muted.
Less than a minute later, which felt like an hour as I continued to plead with Sexy Beast, I jumped at the sound of some kind of impact deep within the side tunnel. Then another. I cupped my mouth. “Martin? What’s going on?”
He yelled something, but he was too far away for me to make it out. I ventured about twenty feet into the dim passage, glancing constantly in the other direction in case SB ran past, and called out for him to repeat his words.
“Call nine-one-one,” he said. “Nina’s locked up in here.”
She was alive! Automatically I reached for my tote bag before remembering that I’d left it back at the stairs. I told him I didn’t have my phone.
“Come get mine,” he hollered. “I’m busy with the lock.”
I forced myself to forget about Sexy Beast for the time being. Freeing Nina took priority. I made my way down the side passage, which quickly went from murky to pitch-black. No lights here. I felt fallen rubble underfoot and suspected the ceiling was in even worst shape here than in the main tunnel.
Nina’s voice became progressively louder. She was sobbing, cursing, screaming hoarsely over and over, “Get me out of here!”
I picked up my pace and promptly tripped over an unseen rock. Gravel bit into my palms, and I didn’t want to think about how many rat turds now adhered to my jeans and shirt. I found my feet and hurried ahead, my eye on the firefly glow of Martin’s flashlight.
The side tunnel was about fifty yards long. When I reached the end, I found Martin crouched in front of a rough wooden door set into the bricks. His compact lock-pick set lay on the ground and he held the flashlight between his teeth, illuminating an antique-looking lock. Both hands were busy manipulating two of the slim steel tools inside the keyhole.
He spoke around the flashlight. “Tried to kick it in. Almost caused a cave-in. This rusty old lock’s a bitch.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“Right front pocket.”
He shifted his weight to give me access to the pocket. I slipped my hand in and felt around. It was a pretty deep pocket and I found myself groping the padre in a most unladylike manner before I finally managed to grasp the phone and pull it out. The scrap of paper with the giggler’s phone number came out with it. I accidentally dropped the paper and then accidentally ground it into the dirt under my shoe.
Nina, meanwhile, never ceased her caterwauling from behind the thick wooden door.
“Nina, it’s Jane. Jane Delaney.” I pushed random buttons on the phone until the screen lit up, displaying a close-up of a beautiful young woman. Who the heck was that? Meanwhile I kept talking. “We’re going to get you out of there, but you have to calm down so Martin can concentrate on the lock.”
The door rocked under three savage kicks from the other side, which caused a hail of dirt and gravel from overhead and made one of the picks slip from the lock and land in the dirt. Martin felt around for it, muttering ripe curses under his breath. Something told me this wasn’t the first time Nina had been called those particular names.
I swiped my finger on the smart phone and was rewarded with a display of icons. “How did you end up in there?” I asked Nina. If I could get her talking, maybe there’d be less kicking.
“How do you think?” she screeched through the door. “Jonah tricked me.”
“Tricked you how?”
“By pretending to change his mind, that’s how. When I first told him about the baby, he was all upset. Wanted me to let Mal believe it was his and go on like nothing happened. Didn’t want to leave his insipid wife and her money.”
After some trial and error, I located the icon for making a phone call and tapped in 911. Then it was my turn to say a bad word. “No phone service,” I told Martin, as he abandoned one lock pick and selected another. “We must be too far underground.” His response was a growl of frustration. I shoved the phone back into his pocket, took the flashlight out of his mouth, and aimed it squarely at the keyhole.
“Don’t leave me here!” Nina sounded on the verge of a breakdown.
“I’m here, Nina,” I said. “We both are. We’re not going anywhere until we get you out of there, I promise. Have you been here since last Thursday?”
“Yes! Jonah brings me food and water every day, otherwise I wouldn’t even know how long I’ve been here. There are no windows, no clock, nothing.”
A sliver of light shone under the door, so at least she hadn’t been in darkness this whole time.
“So Jonah pretended to do an about-face?” I asked her. “He said he wanted to leave Rachel and marry you?”
“It was all lies to keep me quiet,” she said through sobs. I heard her slide down the door and pictured her slumped against it, exhausted, betrayed, terrified for her life.
I whispered to Martin, “What’s taking so long? You had that other lock open in about five seconds.”
“I’m almost there,” he muttered. “Keep that light steady.”
To Nina I said, “When was this? That he said he was leaving Rachel?”
“Wednesday,” she said. “He had me come in for an office visit. Acted all apologetic. Said the news about the baby freaked him at first but that he thought about it and was ready to leave Rachel. Said he wants to be with me for the rest of his life. And I believed him.”
I thought of the sexy surveillance photos Ben had taken through the blinds of Jonah’s exam room. Jonah had been putting on a lovey-dovey act for Nina, making her think he was with the program.
“And he told you to meet him down here the next day as usual?” I asked.
“Yes. He told me not to say anything to Mal yet, that we had to wait for the right time. But I was so excited, Mal could tell something was up. So I told him I was leaving him, and about the baby. He wanted to know who the other man was, but I wouldn’t say.”
“Nina... how long does Jonah intend to keep you here? Did he mention?” It was better than asking, Why are you still alive?
“I don’t know! I thought he wanted me to change my mind, to tell him that everything would stay the way it was. So that’s what I did. But he could tell I was lying. Plus Mal already knows about the baby, that it isn’t his. Jonah can’t let me go now. He knows I’d run to the cops, no matter what I told him.” After a few moments she said in a trembling voice, “Jane?”
“Yes, Nina. I’m here.”
“He’s acting weirder every day. I think he’s really losing it. I think he’s trying to work up the nerve to kill me.” Her voice broke. “He doesn’t want to because of the baby. I think that’s the only reason I’m not dead yet.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. What was I supposed to say? That she had to be mistaken? That the man she’d loved, the father of her unborn child, would never do such a thing?
Before I could figure out how to respond, Martin said, “Yes!” He turned the knob and the door swung outward.
I blinked against the sudden glare from inside the room as Nina spilled through the open doorway. Martin steadied her and helped her to her feet. Never had I imagined Nina Wallace could look so bedraggled: her clothes a wrinkled mess, hair lank and greasy, no makeup to conceal her pallor or the dusky circles under her eyes.
I returned the mini flashlight to Martin and gaped at the love nest turned prison cell, complete with whitewashed brick walls, a colorful area rug, and a plank ceiling showing signs of recent repair. The light source was another bare, dangling bulb. A king-size air mattress dominated the room, its covers rumpled. The only other furnishings were two folding chairs matching those we’d seen in the storage room, a bakery rack, and last and indisputably least, a tin bucket in the corner. Yeah, you know what the bucket was for. You don’t need me to spell it out.
Some honeymoon suite.
Martin poked his head into the room, clearly fascinated by the cavelike refuge. A wrapped deli sandwich lay unopened on the bakery rack, along with boxes of cereal and crackers, spray cheese, three bottles of water, and the white paper sack from Susanne’s. Jonah had been taking good care of his pregnant mistress while he summoned the backbone to do what needed to be done: eliminate her just as he’d no doubt eliminated Irene.
Obviously Jonah had been there minutes earlier, dropping off the food. He had to know we were in the tunnel, considering the racket we’d made trying to find Sexy Beast. A chill scampered down my spine. “Guys, let’s get out of—”
I yelped as a muscular arm whipped around me from behind, dragging me a few stumbling steps from the others and pinning my arms.
Nina whimpered, her eyes huge. Martin started to lunge toward us but stopped short. That’s when I felt what they’d both seen: the tip of a needle nudging the side of my neck. I cut my eyes in that direction and saw a hand holding a hypodermic syringe filled with a clear liquid.
“You called it right, Nina,” Jonah said as his arm tightened around me. “I let maudlin sentiment sway me for too long. I should’ve buried you five days ago.”
Through tears Nina said, “Jonah, I love you—”
“You love yourself,” he barked. “This is all your fault—you gave me no choice. Get back in there.” I felt him nod toward the room’s open doorway. “You too,” he told Martin. “But I’ll take those lock picks first.”
“Listen, man.” Martin raised his palms. “So you kept your girlfriend here for a few days. Sounds to me like some kind of kinky sex game. That’s how anyone would see it—if Nina even told anyone about it, which she’s not going to do, and neither are we. Right, Nina?”
“I won’t tell anyone, I swear,” she sobbed. “Please don’t put me back in there.”
“Nice try, sweetheart,” Jonah sneered. “I heard you tell them you’d run straight to the cops.”
I wondered how long he’d been silently creeping up the dark side tunnel, sneaking up on us. He’d probably heard our whole conversation.
To Martin he said, “I’m not going to ask how you tracked us down here. I’m not in the mood for more lies. The lock picks?” He gave the needle a little jab, making me gasp. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Here.” Martin quickly retrieved the set from his pocket.
Jonah loosened his hold on me long enough to catch the card-sized set as Martin tossed it. The presence of the needle tip pricking my neck was enough to keep all of us under control as Jonah thumbed open the small case one-handed. He shook the five miniature picks into his palm and pitched them over his shoulder. I heard one of them ping against a rock.
He repeated his order for Martin and Nina to get into the room.
Martin and I locked eyes as he pushed a sobbing Nina into the room and backed in after her. In his gaze I read a plea for forgiveness, though we both knew he had no choice. If he went for Jonah, the contents of that syringe would be racing through my veins before he took a single step.
But there was more than apology in Martin’s grim features. It was the most candid I’d ever seen him, the message clear and unambiguous. Save yourself. Do whatever you have to, but get out of this place alive.
Somewhere along the line, I’d gotten under his skin. The thought shouldn’t have warmed me, considering our dire situation, but it did. The last thing I wanted to do was let him down.
He turned to Jonah. “Put Jane in here, too.”
I wasn’t surprised when Jonah said, “Not a chance.” In the short time he’d been in Martin’s company, he’d obviously sized him up and knew better than to underestimate him. Jonah would never be able to shove me into the room and lock the door before Martin charged him.
Nina collapsed on the bed, hugging herself and crying. Martin backed up to the far wall and knelt on the rug. “I’m not going to try anything, man, I swear. You’re better off leaving Jane with us.” He must have figured that my chances of survival were better inside a locked room with him and Nina than outside the room with Jonah and his needle.
In response, Jonah marched me to the door and kicked it shut, plunging us into pitch darkness. He immediately turned the lock and pocketed the key, then banded his arm even tighter around me.
“Let her go, Jonah!” Martin yelled from behind the door. “She’s not going to give you any trouble.”
“It’s t-true.” The velvet blackness before my eyes only compounded my terror. “I have nothing to tell anyone. Nina’s okay. You didn’t do anything that bad.”
“Treating me like an idiot is not in your best interest, Jane.” He traced the tip of the needle over the tender skin of my neck, making me stiffen. “I can make your death much more unpleasant than it needs to be.”
This was my cue to turn on the juice and fight like hell. I’d run out of options, and I’d be damned if I was going to passively stand there and wait for Jonah to snuff out my life. I twisted and kicked, but I was no match for his superior size and strength.
“Don’t do it, Jonah!” Martin pounded the door, bellowing a promise. “If you hurt her, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
Jonah ignored him. “You’re a meddlesome bitch, just like Irene.” I felt him adjust the needle’s angle against my neck and knew he was positioning his thumb on the hypodermic’s plunger. “And you’re going to die the same way she did.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and braced myself for the stab of the needle.
A frenzy of barking erupted at our feet, startling us both and causing Jonah to loosen his hold for a split second. It was all the time I needed to knock his hand away from my neck, drive my elbow into his solar plexus, and break free. As I turned to run, I heard the hypodermic bounce on gravel.
Jonah was in great shape and he was a runner. I had scant hope of making it out of the side passage, much less all the way to the bakery to get help, but I had to try. I assumed SB was sprinting with me toward the distant light of the main tunnel—until I heard his sharp yelp echoing off the bricks.
“Say goodbye to your dog,” Jonah yelled, as SB emitted yips of fear or pain or both.
I stumbled to a halt. “No! Jonah, please don’t hurt him.”
“Get back here now or I’ll bash his brains out on the wall,” he said.
“I’m coming, just... please don’t do anything to SB.” I retraced my steps back to Jonah. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear his harsh breathing and SB’s whimpers. The only light was the faint glow at the bottom of the door.
I pictured Sexy Beast squirming against Jonah’s hold. Hot rage rose up within me like some relentless force of nature. With effort, I reined it in. An impotent display of emotion would solve nothing and could tip him over the edge. Nina had said he was losing his grip on reality, and from what I could see, she was right.
“Where are you?” he growled. “Get over here.”
Before I could move toward his voice, his free hand found my arm in the dark, gripping it with bruising force. I cried out as he flung me like a rag doll against the wooden door. I slid to the ground as pain exploded in my back.
“Jane!” Martin called from inside the room. “Are you okay?”
I fought to suck in air. “Yes,” I croaked, pretty sure I was lying.
At least Jonah was now unarmed. I doubted he’d get on his hands and knees to search for his hypodermic in the dark, and I was right. His voice was already retreating toward the main tunnel. “If you move from that spot, if I see you or hear you trying to come out, this animal is dead. Understand?”
“Jonah, leave SB with me. We’ll stay right—”
“Do you understand?” He was officially unhinged.
“Yes. I won’t move. You have my word.”
I listened to SB’s whimpers grow fainter as Jonah jogged out of the side tunnel. I’m sorry, SB. Please forgive me.
Martin said, “Is he still there?”
“No. He’s gone.” I choked back a sob. “Martin, he has SB. I think he’s going to kill him no matter what.”
“Is he out of earshot?”
He didn’t try to console me or offer lame reassurances, and for that I was grateful. As heartbroken as I was over the prospect of my precious Sexy Beast meeting a grisly end, his fate was now out of my control. I had to keep it together for all our sakes.
“Yes,” I said. “He can’t hear us as long as we keep our voices down. How’s Nina?” I asked.
“Practically catatonic. I assume Jonah took the key?”
“Of course. I’m going to give him a few minutes to get out of the tunnel, then I’ll go for help.” And pray I wouldn’t encounter SB’s lifeless corpse along the way.
I remembered the padlock on the door to the tunnel. Jonah would no doubt lock it on his way out, but as long as he didn’t make off with my tote bag, which contained my cell phone, I should be able to get a signal there and call 911. If not, I’d pound on the door and holler until someone heard me.
Jonah’s voice suddenly reverberated down the side tunnel, hurling vile curses at my dog. This was followed by vigorous barking, which grew louder as SB raced to return to me.
He leapt on me in the dark and I scooped him up and rained kisses on his furry little head. Never in my life had I been happier to have a dog lick and lick and lick my face.
“What did SB do?” Martin asked through the door. “Take a chunk out of his hand?”
“That would be my guess,” I said, “but he’s never bitten anyone in his life.”
“Maybe he never had a reason until now. Do you hear Jonah coming back?”
“No.” I heard something else, though, something that made me forget to keep breathing. I stood on wobbly legs, clutching SB to my chest. “Martin? Do you hear that?”
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. A series of percussive blows, the sound ringing off the brick walls.
“Yeah,” he said. “What’s happening?”
“I think...” My mouth was desert dry. I thought about the ax I’d seen earlier. “I think he’s chopping down the supports at the entrance to the side tunnel.”
Martin was ominously silent.
My voice climbed a couple of octaves. “This place is already on the verge of collapse.”
I saw it clearly now, Jonah’s simple strategy: cave in the mouth of the side passage. It was all too easy to imagine such a cave-in cascading down part or all of the passage’s deteriorated length. Meanwhile Jonah would escape through the main tunnel, and the three of us—or four of us including Sexy Beast—would never be heard from again.
With Martin and Nina locked up, I alone would be trying to dig us out. In complete darkness. With my bare hands. That is, if we were lucky and the collapse didn’t kill us outright.
On second thought, that would be the lucky thing, dying quickly under tons of earth and rock rather than facing slow suffocation or starvation. At least Martin and Nina had spray cheese.
“I have to try and stop him,” I said.
“Jane, no!” Martin said. “What are you going to do, tackle a man with an ax?”
“I refuse to just stand here and wait to die.” I squeezed SB so tightly he yelped. I gave him an apologetic nuzzle. “Do you have a better idea?”
“I know how we can make it a fairer fight,” he said. “You’re going to pick this lock.”
After a startled pause, I said, “I don’t know how to pick locks.”
“I’ll walk you through it. First you have to find those picks that Jonah tossed.”
“It’s pitch black out here,” I said.
“I know that. Hurry up. This tunnel could implode at any moment.”
It was true. The chopping sounds continued unabated, along with the occasional falling plank or brick.
I didn’t waste another second. As unrealistic as Martin’s plan was, it was the only one we had. I put SB down and fell on my hands and knees in the area where I thought the lock picks had landed. I pushed all thoughts of rat turds out of my mind as I swept my hands over dirt and rocks, searching for the tiny steel tools. I wished I’d held on to Martin’s flashlight.
“Ow!” Something stabbed my hand. I groped in the dark and discovered Jonah’s hypodermic attached to me, the needle deeply embedded in the base of my thumb. Careful not to touch the plunger, I pulled it out and hurled the thing toward the nearest wall. It clattered against the bricks, followed by the squeal of a rat and the shuffle of tiny feet scampering directly in front of me.
Sexy Beast growled, but I managed to grab him before he could take off again. I ordered him to sit and stay, and something in my tone must have told him I meant business. He griped about the one that got away, but he stayed put.
“What happened?” Martin asked. “Are you all right?”
“Never better. Can’t remember when I’ve had this much fun. Hey, I found one!” I ran my fingers over the slender piece of metal. It was definitely one of his lock picks.
“Which one?”
“How do I know which one?” I said.
“What does the end of it feel like?” he asked. “You’re looking for the torsion wrench and the hook.”
“This one has a bunch of bumps. You used it on the storage-room door.”
“That’s the rake. It’s useless with this lock. Keep looking.”
“Terrific,” I muttered, and shoved the rake into my pocket. Less than a minute later I found another one. “The wrench—is that the one with the L-shaped end? I’ve got that.”
“Great. Hurry up.”
I discarded the occasional extraneous find: a cork, a bottle cap, a crushed cigarette pack. Several hefty insects took an interest in me and I bravely shook them off. It’s amazing the salutary effect one’s imminent demise can have on one’s maturity level.
The next two picks I found were the diamond and the snake, according to Martin. I’d found every pick in the set except the one I needed.
“It has a little rounded hook on the end. It’s the only one I could get to work in this lock,” he said. “Come on, Jane, it’s got to be there.”
I expanded my search area, clawing my fingers through dirt and rubble. My hands were raw and scraped, but I ignored the pain.
The regular thunk of Jonah’s ax-blows abruptly ceased. I heard distant thuds and pictured him kicking the timber he’d just hewn, urging it to split in two. More likely, he was using the sledgehammer I’d spied earlier. This was followed by the creak of splintering wood, then the crash of a huge support timber toppling, along with portions of the wall and ceiling at the entryway. Before the racket had settled, he started chopping the second timber.
“Jane?” Martin’s voice sounded different. Subdued. “I just want you to know something. You know, in case we don’t—”
“Save it, Padre.” I refused to entertain an in case we don’t scenario. I couldn’t think that way if I was going to get us out of there alive.
That scalding surge of anger once again threatened to engulf me, and this time I let it. That sick bastard was not going to get away with this—not if the Death Diva had anything to say about it. I was going to find that damn lock pick. Then I was going to pick that damn lock. Then the three of us were going to get that damn ax away from that damn psycho and run like hell out of that damn tunnel. Damn it.
I redoubled my efforts to find the last pick, crawling in an ever-widening circle, tossing aside rocks, sifting dirt and gravel through my sore fingers. “I’ve got it!” I raised the pick in triumph, though I couldn’t see it in the inky dark. Then I dropped it. I cursed, groped, found it again.
Martin was already barking orders, instructing me to insert the bent tip of the wrench into the lower part of the keyhole and turn it clockwise, holding it with slight pressure while I slid the hook pick into the top part.
“There are five spring-loaded pins in the cylinder.” He spoke quickly. “You’ll need to push each pin up, working from back to front. Keep pressure on the wrench, but not too much pressure.”
How much was too much? I tried not to think about how even Martin, with all his experience, had found this lock a beast to open.
“Can you feel the pins?” he asked.
“Umm...” I wiggled the pick in the lock. How was I supposed to tell what was in there? “There’s something bumpy along the top.”
“That’s them. You’ll feel a bit of give when each pin sets. You might even hear a little click.” His voice seemed to come right through the lock. It comforted me to know he was sitting mere inches away. If not for the thick wooden door, I could touch him.
With his ear so close to the action, he heard every scrape of the pick. “You’re being too aggressive,” he said. “You need to use a real soft touch. Feel for the slightest movement.”
Panic threatened to overtake me. “I told you, I don’t know how to do this!”
“Try to relax,” he said. “Take a moment and breathe.”
“I don’t have time to breathe!” I didn’t have time to throw up, either, so I forced myself to put that one on hold. My hands were now shaking so badly, I couldn’t have picked my nose, let alone a cranky antique lock.
“Trust me, Jane.” His voice was warm and smooth and steady as a rock. “I will help you do this, I promise. But you have to trust me. Now, breathe.”
My chest had never felt tighter. I forced myself to drag in a lungful of stale, grave-scented air. Then another. Moisture pooled in my eyes and made silent tracks down my cheeks. I would not let him hear me cry.
The only sound was the unrelenting thunk thunk thunk of Jonah’s ax.
“Okay,” I whispered. Then louder. “Okay, Padre. Let’s do this.”
Through stubborn force of will I gained control over my trembling fingers. I exerted the slightest pressure on the wrench and gently probed with the pick.
I’d seen a photo once of a kind of lemur called the aye-aye. This strange creature possesses a long, thin middle finger which it uses to dig grubs out of trees. I imagined the lock pick was just such a finger, a living extension of my hand and just as sensitive to touch.
“That’s good,” Martin murmured from the other side, listening. “Just keep— You got one! Did you feel that?”
I nodded stupidly, afraid to speak, afraid to break whatever spell had allowed me that little victory.
He said, “You’re a natural, baby. Pin number two—let’s go.”
My armpits were drenched. He had to remind me again to breathe, but eventually I pushed the second pin up. Only, it didn’t stay up.
“It’s all about the wrench,” he said. “You need to turn the cylinder just enough to hold any pins you’ve already set, but not enough to keep the next pin from setting. You have to finesse it.”
I groaned. Finesse it? My fingers were so slippery with sweat, just keeping a grip on the slim little picks was a challenge. Sexy Beast decided that would be an excellent time to jump on me and beg for scritches. I told him to lie down and he did, with a huff of disappointment, smooshing his warm little body against my leg.
I pushed the second pin again. I was beginning to visualize what was going on inside that corroded lock, and why setting the pins and keeping them set was so tricky. Martin was right. It really was about what my left hand was doing with the tiny wrench.
This time when I set the pin, it stayed set.
“I’ll turn you into a first-class burglar yet,” he said. He didn’t need to tell me to keep going. I was already working on pin number three.
The sound of ax-blows stopped and I almost wet myself. The remaining support timber was about to fall.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I murmured, forcing myself to concentrate on the lock and push everything else out of my head. It wasn’t just my life on the line. Two other people were relying on me, not to mention Sexy Beast.
“Jane, run!” Martin said. “Save yourself. Go!”
I said nothing, just teased the third pin into place and went to work on the fourth.
“Jane, I mean it. If Jonah’s still there, hit him on the head with a brick or something, but get out of here while you still can.”
“Shut up and get Nina ready to run.” My hands were shaking again and beginning to cramp. I couldn’t tell how much pressure I was putting on the wrench. One slip and the three pins I’d already set would fall.
Again I heard distant thuds: Jonah sledgehammering the support timber he’d just chopped.
I expected Martin to keep insisting I run. Instead he started yelling at Nina, trying to jolt her out of her stupor. In my mind’s eye I saw him pulling her up off the bed and shaking her.
He didn’t consider it hopeless. He believed in me.
I felt the fourth pin lift and stay there. One more to go. My senses were on overdrive. In the impenetrable darkness I saw the fifth and final pin as if blessed with X-ray vision. I knew that lock by now. I felt like I’d gone twelve rounds in a boxing ring with it. I positioned the curved tip of the lock pick directly under the pin and pushed upward.
Nothing.
At the mouth of the side tunnel, I heard one final hammer blow and then the sound of wood splintering.
The hell with finesse. I wiggled the pick. I jabbed it. I put elbow grease into it. “Move!” I commanded that rusty old pin. “Move, damn you!”
Click.
I turned the wrench like a key and felt the cylinder fully rotate. I did it!
Martin shoved the door open, knocking me on my butt and flooding the area with light. SB barked excitedly at all the commotion. I grabbed him as Martin yanked me up by the arm and started running.
Adrenaline gave me wings. Even Nina managed a decent speed, with Martin pulling her along. We covered the fifty yards in seconds, sprinting toward the resounding crash of the entryway’s last remaining support timber.
Ahead of us, the light of the main tunnel dimmed under clouds of roiling earth as the entryway began to cave in. I didn’t think it was possible for us to run faster, but we did, reaching the end and clambering blindly up the accumulated rubble, choking on the billowing dirt. Rocks and ceiling planks pelted us from above. The side tunnel was beginning to collapse around us, shuddering in its death throes.
I felt more than saw a small opening, rapidly filling with rubble. I propelled SB through it, and Martin did the same for me. I wriggled into the main tunnel—which remained untouched, thank goodness, the lights still blazing—then turned back to pull Nina through as he gave her a shove from behind. Blessedly, Jonah was nowhere to be seen.
Martin started to shimmy through just as the entryway collapsed completely, burying him under an avalanche of earth and rock. Frantically I began trying to dig him out, even as falling debris pummeled me and undid all my efforts.
“Help me!” I screamed at Nina, who responded by fleeing down the tunnel and disappearing from sight. Sexy Beast was more loyal. He stood at a safe distance from the cave-in, barking nonstop.
If I relied on my hands alone, Martin would soon suffocate. Think!
Wildly I glanced around, recalling the tools I’d seen earlier leaning against a wall. The ax and sledgehammer were missing, having been pressed into service by Jonah, but the shovel was still there. I grabbed it and started digging like a maniac. I couldn’t say how long I kept at it. The muscles in my back and shoulders screamed as I shoveled without pause, sending soil and rocks and bricks flying. My mind was empty, my entire being focused on getting to Martin.
My heart nearly seized up when a hand shot out of the dirt. I gave it a reassuring squeeze and continued to dig, taking care not to clobber him with the shovel. He worked with me, gradually freeing his head and shoulders. Finally I dropped the shovel and grabbed hold of him, pulling hard as he laboriously hauled himself out of the pile of debris.
We fell to the ground in a filthy heap, our lungs pumping like bellows. SB hovered over me, warm dog breath fanning my face, as if searching in vain for a clean spot to lick. Martin and I turned our heads and just looked at each other. He was covered head to toe in dirt, bleeding from myriad deep scratches, and I wasn’t much better.
“Nina booked on you?” he asked.
I shrugged. What was there to say?
Martin managed to get to his feet. He pulled me up and I wobbled, grateful when he steadied me against his side. As we began to shuffle down the tunnel toward civilization and an interesting conversation with Detective Hernandez, I noticed Sexy Beast wasn’t with us. I turned back to see him avidly sniffing at the mountain of fallen debris.
“SB.” I barely had the energy to form the words. “Come.”
He whined.
“Come on, be a good boy for Jane.” I stumbled over and picked him up. I kissed his grotty head. “You need a bath almost as badly as I do.”
I looked down to see what he’d found so fascinating. It was the sledgehammer, poking out of the rubble. The more I stared at it, the more my eyes played tricks on me. I looked at Martin. He saw it too.
He knelt by the sledgehammer and brushed dirt and gravel off the wooden handle and the human fingers clutching it. I heard a low moan and belatedly realized it had come from me.
He pushed aside detritus and exposed part of a massive timber, one of the pair that had supported the mouth of the side tunnel. When I saw what lay under it—Jonah’s head, crushed—I took a reflexive step back. The top section of the timber must have toppled on him when he split it.
Martin placed his fingers on Jonah’s neck and shook his head, confirming what I already knew. He stood. “Let’s get out of here.”
