Last Girls Alive: A totally addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Katie Scott Book 4)

by Jennifer Chase

  Fighting to bring up her left leg, she finally managed to do so, kneeing him in the groin and stomach areas. He lessened his grip. She clasped her hands in a tight clenched prayer position and broke his arms away from her before managing to wiggle her body free. Jerry fell to the side, moaning and swearing. Without her gun or even her cell phone, she had no other choice but to run.

  Staggering to get to a standing position, her head spinning, Katie fought the urge to fall down and sleep. Her exhaustion and lack of proper oxygen made her feel disconnected and weak. Her vision blurred.

  Making it to the stairwell, she grabbed the railing for dear life. It was the only thing that held her upright so she squeezed her fingers tight, melding them onto the wrought iron.

  A loud wild-animal snarl came from behind her and a moment later Jerry grabbed her and began pulling her back to the room.

  “No!” she yelled, flailing her feet in the air. Remembering a tactic that one of her army trainers taught her, she pushed back hard as her boot caught the handrail. She continued pushing and managed to bring her feet over her head and come back down in a backward somersault.

  Katie freed herself from him but had nowhere else to go except down the stairs. She hit them at full speed but missed the third step, causing her to tumble forward and stagger. She stopped herself about halfway down, trying to protect her head and neck. Fumbling for her footing, she was caught by Jerry again.

  His continuing rage had turned him unpredictable, making him an impossible adversary to fight as his hand, fists, and feet caught her body endlessly. One more bash to Katie’s head, and Jerry managed to claw a fistful of her hair and slam her forehead into the handrail. She took a deep breath and was about to retaliate—

  Everything went black.

  Fifty-One

  Drums pounded in Katie’s head. The intense throbbing was almost unbearable as she touched her forehead and felt something sticky. She didn’t need to see it or touch it; she knew it was blood, hot, viscous, slipping down her forehead.

  She opened her eyes but saw nothing but blackness.

  Leaning forward, at first she couldn’t see anything or feel anything. Then she felt a flat wall in front of her and a stair underneath her body. Why couldn’t she see it?

  “Hello?” she said. Listening to the sound of her tinny echoing voice made her think of a long cavern, an endless abyss. She gulped down her fear.

  Stairs, she thought. Her mind raced to figure out where she was as her memory cleared. Remembering what had happened came in bits and pieces. Jerry Weaver was not only psychologically damaged, but forever demented. He believed the girls of Elm Hill Mansion had used him. The result—they were going to pay with their lives.

  She stood up slowly, not able to differentiate up or down due to dizziness. Stairs. No railing, just walls. She was in the secret staircase. Katie’s fuzzy feeling began to clear and she was able to think more clearly. At that moment, she knew that Shane was tied up in the closet and Jerry Weaver was the killer. With all the evidence they had discovered, she had missed this link. Someone who had been in foster care, someone who had been abandoned, and someone who picked his work to get closer to those who would understand him.

  Katie needed to get to Shane. Hands flat against the wall, she made her way up as best she could. Slow, steady, and using her hands until she reached the top.

  Thunder shook the house as if an earthquake rumbled through it.

  Katie stood still, listening intently in the darkness.

  It boomed again—this time the violent shake felt like a train had hit the house.

  The house—in its fragile condition and ready for demolition—was going to come down one way or another. There was no other alternative.

  Katie’s blood turned cold, her hands sweated, and a lump appeared in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Her heart raced and her pulse thundered in her ears. No, she kept telling herself. She was not going to die alone beneath a pile of rubble. She hadn’t lived through what she had in the army and her police work to die trapped in a rotten old house. Katie began pounding on the walls and the door at the top of the stairs. “Hey! Can anyone hear me?!”

  She continued pounding with her fists and when she grew tired, she kicked at the door with her boots.

  Then… there was a soft sound. She heard a knock, once, twice, and then a third time.

  Katie wasn’t imagining it.

  “Can you hear me!” she yelled. “Help! Get Help!”

  A very weak voice responded, “I can hear you…”

  “Get help!” she yelled again.

  “I can’t.”

  Katie realized it was Shane. Poor Shane.

  A crash hit the corner of the foundations, rocking the upper floor.

  Katie bounced around the wall of the staircase like a ball.

  “Katie,” Shane said in a weak voice. “I’ll try to get to you.”

  Moving back from the door, she heard pounding and then scratching up and down. It sounded like he was trying to unlock the door with his hands behind his back.

  “C’mon, Shane, c’mon, c’mon,” urged Katie. “You can do it, Shane!”

  A low grumble came from underneath the second floor. It revved like a massive airplane engine and then a crash hit the building with a tremendous force—this time from another corner. Katie knew that Jerry was systematically taking out the structural parts of the building until it tumbled down into a pile of rubble—falling into itself.

  “C’mon, Shane! You can do it!” she yelled through the wall.

  More pounding and scratching came from the other side of the door. Until something clicked and the door opened an inch. “Get back!” she yelled, before kicking the door open the rest of the way.

  Katie stumbled into the main room on the second floor. There she found Shane slumped on the floor, leaning up against the wall. Dried blood had stuck to the side of his head and face, he was missing his gold-rimmed glasses, and breathing hard.

  “C’mon, we’ve got to get out of here now,” she said, and began untying his restraints. “You okay?”

  He nodded.

  The room spun slightly for Katie and she had to steady herself as she pulled Shane to his feet. “We need to leave now,” she urged. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Back pocket,” he said.

  Katie quickly reached for his cell phone and found it. Dialing 911, she explained the address and the line went dead. She frantically called McGaven’s number and when he answered, “Get help to Elm Hill… we need…” The connection went dead.

  It was perfect timing; the next impact against the house was larger than the previous ones, shaking the entire mansion like a combined explosion and 8.0 earthquake. The floor shifted and then tilted to one side. The groans and screeches emitted from the old house were deafening. The mansion tried to hold together, but ultimately its tired old construction began to let go.

  Both Katie and Shane couldn’t hold tight to anything and were left sliding across the main floor to the other side.

  The rattling was unrelenting, deep groans, screeching, cracking, and crashing was heard all around them. There was nothing that Katie could do.

  Fifty-Two

  McGaven took the last turn on the road before the driveway to Elm Hill Mansion too fast and he fishtailed the car, barely getting it back under control. He was followed by four patrol cars, the sheriff’s car, and soon the fire department would be arriving after the place was secured. He knew that he was putting his job on the line, but he also knew that there was no room for mistakes.

  Within seconds, he drove up the driveway for Elm Hill Mansion and saw an earthmover still idling on the property. No one was around.

  The main structure of the house was smashed to pieces.

  Katie’s car was there, along with another small vehicle.

  McGaven drove all the way up to front yard area, slammed on his brakes and flung open the door.

  The other patrol cars fanned out and took their backu
p positions, ready as needed.

  McGaven stood in the middle of the property. Diesel hung in the air. There was an eerie quiet. “Katie!” he yelled. “Katie!”

  Sheriff Scott, driving a department SUV, sped up to the property and stopped. He was out of the vehicle in seconds, running toward McGaven.

  “What happened?”

  At that exact moment, the entire mansion collapsed. Creaking, groaning, and crunching grew in sound as the structure slipped into its own grave. First from the middle inward, then the second and third floors crumbled and fell downward with a huge crash. Each piece of carefully planned and designed lumber let loose and caved in at weird angles, leaving a pile of rubble.

  Dust rose into the air.

  “Back up!” McGaven yelled, and everyone ran from the spectacle until it was finished.

  When it was done, the once beautiful house was now a pile of old wood and shattered dreams. Its history halted. Dust continued to float over to the police officers in swirls with the humidity. There was a distinct smell of old barn wood and wet earth mixed with surrounding forest.

  McGaven stood next to Sheriff Scott and they both were speechless for a moment.

  Scott turned to the officers and said, “We need rescue workers here now! Get the fire department out here now!”

  “Do you think Katie’s in there?” whispered McGaven, barely able to speak, still staring at the wreckage. “Do you think she even survived that?”

  “If anyone can survive something like that—it’s Katie.” The sheriff left to coordinate the rescue, pushing his personal feelings aside.

  McGaven stood still, gaping at the wreckage, but then he had an idea.

  Fifty-Three

  “Shane,” said Katie with a raspy voice. “You okay?”

  She sat up and was able to free herself from the larger beams of the house. They were lucky, she thought—at the final moment she’d dragged them both into the small closet and wrapped her arms around him to shield him. As the building collapsed, this little closet held fast, protecting them in a small pocket of air.

  “I’m here,” Shane said. He sounded strange, as if he were in another room.

  “Where are you? I can’t see much,” she said.

  Katie crawled slowly, mindful of pipes and wiring—she didn’t know if there was electricity still coursing through the lines. She used her hands to feel her way. A tiny crack of light was above them—hopefully a good sign—with light and oxygen reaching them.

  A hand grabbed hers, making her startle. “I’m here,” he said.

  As Katie neared him, she saw an outline of a body lying on its side with an arm pinned beneath timber. “Shane,” she said. “Can you move?”

  “A little, but my arm…” he said breathlessly. “I can’t move my arm.”

  “Okay, I think we’re close to the outside so let’s see what I can do.” She began feeling around to see if she could move the obstructive wood. “Wait, what’s that sound?”

  The deputies had all pitched in and began carefully pulling pieces of lumber and supports away from the outside, trying to find any area where there was an air pocket or chamber where Katie and Shane might be.

  Soon, the fire department and volunteers arrived to help.

  McGaven saw Chad drive up in his vehicle. He ran to meet him. Cisco was riding shotgun, panting and pacing back and forth as if he knew that Katie was in trouble. “Hey, man, glad you got here quickly.”

  Chad looked grave and barely keeping it together, but said, “Great idea. Cisco can find where Katie is before we do.” He stopped McGaven. “Do you think that she survived that?” he said in a barely audible voice. He looked at the giant heap of rubble of a once large mansion.

  McGaven gritted his teeth, and said, “The sheriff said if anyone could survive that it would be Katie.”

  “Wait,” said Katie. “Hear that?”

  “Yeah,” said Shane weakly.

  “Someone’s here. They’re here to rescue us. Help! Help!” she yelled. “We’re here!” She waited but no one responded. “Help!” she yelled again.

  “They can’t… hear us…”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get you moved and try again. Okay? The important thing is that help is here.”

  He nodded and exhaled an agonized breath.

  Katie surveyed her area just like she would do if she was out in the mountains or studying the crime scene. Keeping her focus, she did a 360-degree slow circle. It was tight and there were a few obstructions, but she managed.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m being straight with you, okay? Don’t answer, just nod or squeeze my hand if you understand.”

  He nodded.

  “We’re in a small cubbyhole with only a tiny crack of letting air, which means we only have so much oxygen. But we’re fine for now, okay?”

  A squeeze of her hand.

  “Let me see if I can move this,” she said. Trying to push or pull the wood amounted to not moving or budging it at all. It was clear that Shane probably had a broken arm, and maybe a shoulder or collarbone too. She didn’t know how bad or if there were compound fractures.

  She heard his ragged breathing.

  “Shane, stay with me, okay?”

  He barely squeezed her hand.

  Katie leaned in and could see that he was fading and would be unconscious soon. She needed to find a way out—fast.

  Dust trickled down, making the pocket of air heavy and difficult to breathe. Katie coughed and tried to clear her throat but it was becoming worse. She couldn’t stop coughing and suddenly felt woozy so she leaned back and closed her eyes.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” called one of the deputy sheriffs. “I thought I heard something. Quiet!”

  Everyone stopped working and listened. Silence, but that didn’t deter them as they kept working to pull wreckage away.

  “Okay, let’s get Cisco working,” said McGaven to Chad.

  “I can work him in a quadrant search. That’s probably the most efficient way in this type of setting.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “Hey.”

  Chad turned to face McGaven.

  “She’s going to make it—if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Katie—she’s a fighter.”

  Chad gave a weak smile and turned to hike over to the other side with Cisco. “Okay, buddy,” he said to the panting dog. “We’ve been here before.”

  Cisco barked. It was clear that he sensed a heightened urgency.

  Chad unclipped the leash. “Cisco, search. Find Katie. C’mon, boy.”

  The dog barked again, spun two times and began systematically using his nose to find Katie in between boards, down in crevices, and across the top of piles. He became interested in a certain area, but moved on. The dog worked for about fifteen minutes and seemed tired. Chad stopped the dog and gave him some water.

  “Good boy, good boy,” he said.

  Cisco’s ears perked up, ears forward, and eyes intense. The black dog was like a statue as he strained his hearing. He began barking—incessantly barking. Some of the searchers stopped what they were doing and watched the dog.

  Cisco ran up on one of the piles about ten feet high and began barking. He ran up and down the same area a few more times, barking the entire time.

  The oxygen was dwindling faster than Katie had thought it would. She became excessively tired. She leaned against one of the supports and rested her eyes again. All she could smell was mold and dust.

  She thought she was dreaming because she could hear Cisco barking. It was his loud bark when he found something, or a bad guy. Opening her eyes, she realized that she wasn’t dreaming. She really could hear Cisco barking.

  “Cisco…” she whispered. Moving to Shane, she could tell he was breathing but wasn’t conscious, most likely due to the head injury he sustained from Jerry.

  The barking continued and became louder.

  “Cisco! Here, boy! I’m here!” she yelled as loud as she could, making her dizzy. Her voice sounded like i
t was inside a bottle and made her tone strange. She took several deep breaths.

  “Cisco… Cisco…” she said and fainted.

  Chad had moved toward Cisco, who was on the other side of the house that they were searching. “Hey! Over here!” he yelled. His anxiousness increased and he waited impatiently, moving a few boards out of the way. “Hey!”

  The entire crew, made up of deputies, firefighters, and volunteers, came to Chad’s aid. “I think she’s over here.”

  They worked tirelessly. Even the sheriff worked with them.

  One of the volunteers finally said, “They’re over here.” It was the area that Cisco was barking on top of barely fifteen minutes earlier.

  Chad pushed his way past them and slipped down inside.

  Cisco still barked, clawing at the area, trying to get inside—desperately trying to get to Katie.

  Five minutes later, Chad appeared with Katie in his arms. Everyone helped to get her out. She had cuts and bruises, but she was semiconscious. Cisco licked her face and she moved her hand to pet him.

  “C’mon, we need a gurney over here,” said Chad. “There’s another one down there, he’s pinned. C’mon, let’s go…”

  With huge relief, Katie felt like she was drifting in a dream. She kept her eyes shut and embraced the fresh air and daylight on her face, along with kisses from Cisco. It was all like a warped fantasy—a once terrifying dream but with a happy ending as she felt the strong arms of Chad wrapped around her.

  Hearing the familiar voices of her uncle, McGaven, Chad, and others made her anxieties diminish. She mumbled, “Shane needs your help… he needs your help…”