21 Dares: A Florida Suspense Mystery

by JC Gatlin

  She stood. Stretched out her arms. Swallowed. She balanced there, right arm flapping, then the left one. She placed a hand on the edge of the fire escape railing. She gripped the metal railing, stabilized. She leaned into the breeze and looked down at the street five stories below.

  Like little action figures, Dharma and the twins huddled in a mass, heads raised. Dharma pointed. Lindsey yelled. Abbie could just hear the tone of their voices really. She trembled as she held out a hand and turned her phone toward her. She snapped a photo.

  Immediately she jumped off the ledge and planted her feet firmly on the concrete rooftop. She brought up the photo on her phone and sent it.

  “I’m sending the selfie,” Abbie said. Then she turned to Susan. “We’re done with this. Let’s go.”

  Susan ran to her, hugged her. Turning, they headed for the door as the wind whipped around them. Abbie’s phone chirped, then Susan’s phone dinged. Susan released Abbie, and grabbed her phone. They hesitated at the door, reading the new text message.

  “Great. Now it works.” Susan looked up from her phone. The color drained from her face. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

  Abbie looked down at her screen.

  “No,” Susan said. “I’m afraid of heights. I can’t do it.”

  Abbie reached for her. “What about McKenzie?”

  “I don’t care.” Susan pushed her hands away. “I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

  “Then let’s call the police,” Abbie said. “I don’t know what else we can do for her.”

  Their phone dinged again. Both girls looked down, read the message.

  “I’m texting him back,” Susan said. “I’m not going through with it.”

  “Agreed. It’s over,” Abbie said. “He’s just going to have to accept that.”

  Their phones dinged. A new video came through of McKenzie. It zoomed in on her face. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Tears smeared her cheeks. A masculine hand waved a box cutter in front of her nose. Swirled the sharp blade toward the camera, then back again. It swiped her cheek. McKenzie screamed. Blood gushed from the cut. Dripped from her chin.

  “Stop it!” Abbie gripped her phone with both hands. She sent a text back.

  Susan shook her head. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Hey,” Abbie said, forcing a smile. She tried to look brave. “What would Buffy do?”

  Susan didn’t return the smile. “I’m not a fan of the show.”

  “All right, then,” Abbie said. “When it rains, look for rainbows and when it’s dark, look for stars.”

  There was a long pause, as if Susan was absorbing those words. She shook her head. “How the hell is that supposed to help me?”

  “I don’t know. It’s something Clinton Reed says.” She took Susan’s hand in hers. “We’ll do it together, okay?”

  Susan trembled. She gripped Abbie’s hand. Together they stepped to the ledge. They climbed onto the short wall. Standing, they had an unobstructed view of the city, and the street five stories straight down. Abbie could make out Dharma and the twins below. Dharma’s arm shot up as if she was waving, pointing. Lindsey’s voice carried in the wind.

  “Ignore them. Don’t look down.” Abbie tried to keep her voice steady. “Just look at me. Keep your eyes focused on me.”

  Standing on the ledge, Susan gripped Abbie’s left arm.

  Abbie raised it, held up her phone, struggled to aim it. Susan was in the shot. She wobbled out of the shot. She leaned back in. Just as Abbie was about to snap the photo, her cell phone chirped.

  Susan’s phone dinged in her hand, startling her. Her foot slipped. Suddenly upended, she fell off the ledge. Her phone dropped out of her hand. Her back hit the fire escape and she grabbed the railing. She tried to claw her way onto the black grate, but the best she could manage was a last-second grasp of the slippery guardrail.

  Abbie fell next. Her chin scraped the ledge. She landed flat on the top of the wall, face down. She reached for Susan. Stretched her right arm as far as she could. Grasped Susan’s fingers. She struggled to hold Susan’s hand. Dangling in the air, Susan pulled Abbie’s arm. Abbie’s body dropped an inch over the ledge. She tightened her grip on Susan’s hand. She could hear the girls below. They screamed, cried for help.

  “I’m slipping.” Susan struggled to lift herself up. “I… can’t… hold… on…”

  “You’ve got to,” Abbie said through clenched teeth. She scrunched her eyes, strained to raise her arm and lift Susan back up. But Susan was too heavy. Abbie’s grip weakened.

  “I’m… slip—” Susan screamed.

  “Hold on!” Abbie grunted. She felt the ends of Susan’s finger tips. The reality of what was happening—what was going to happen—was instantly clear. Susan’s fingers slipped out of Abbie’s hand.

  Susan dropped.

  Abbie fell with her. She reached for the guard rail on the fire escape. Grasped it. Wrapped both arms around the metal pole. Hanging in the air, she gulped a breath. She looked down.

  Susan’s arms thrashed wildly as she fell. An animal-like shriek burst from her lungs, echoing through the dark streets.

  Then silence.

  Abbie shut her eyes. Turned her head away. Her stomach turned to ice. Wind whistled in her ears as she held onto the metal pole, her body dangling. Below, Dharma and the twins stood quiet, as if there had been a second of disbelief that passed through them, then the screaming began. Abbie could hear them crying. She opened her eyes. Her arms weakened with the weight of her legs kicking freely in the air. She struggled to hold on.

  Her arms gave. She slipped. Her hands gripped the edge of the metal grate landing. Her fingers looped into the holes. She looked down again. Dharma and the twins crouched around Susan’s body like they were praying over it. Poor Susan. Was she dead? Alive? Abbie couldn’t think about that right now.

  She tried to pull herself up. Her arms weren’t strong enough.

  Below her, one of the girls—Lindsey, maybe Dharma—yelled, “Hang on.” But Abbie couldn’t. Her fingers were slipping. Her joints ached. The pain intensified. Her feet grew heavier. The pain sharpened, pulling her arms out of her shoulders. Gravity had hold of her. She could literally feel its grasp. It pulled on her legs. Stretched the tendons in her arms. Her shoulders were on fire. Her wrists burned. Her fingers strained. Ached. On the verge of giving up.

  She was slipping.

  Sweat. Blood. It didn’t matter. Her mind scrambled.

  She tried to block out the pain. Hold on, she told herself. Just hold on. Her eyes flooded. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Dripped off her chin. Her nose was running. She looked up at the ledge. She had to pull herself up. She focused all her energy to her arms. Held her breath. Set her sights on the ledge—when she saw him.

  He was standing there.

  On the roof. Leaning over the short perimeter wall. Looking down at her.

  She saw his face but her brain couldn’t process it.

  She gasped. Almost let go.

  The man with the brown hat and tan trench coat was standing there. Watching her.

  Chapter 25

  Abbie opened her mouth to scream. She had no voice left. All her energy was focused on her death grip to the metal grate. Her eyes scrunched. She tried to keep them open, but they closed, tight. Her fingertips pressed hard on the metal. Her fingernails scratched the steel. Still, her grip loosened.

  Even with her eyes closed, Abbie felt his weight land on the fire escape. It shifted the space around her. The metal joints wailed as he moved. He was coming near her, above her. Fingers clamped around her wrist. A strong grip. A tight grip.

  “I got you.” His voice was deep, raspy.

  Abbie grasped his lower arm. Her heart pounded. Gravity released her. She suddenly felt free and her legs flailed. Abbie opened her eyes. He lifted her up.

  “I got you,” he said, squeezing her biceps. He raised his arms. Grabbed the back of her belt. Got an arm beneath her and hefted her upper body onto the
fire escape landing. She bent at the waist. Brought her right leg up first, then the other, and rolled onto her side, the core of her body firmly planted on the grated platform. She lay on the cold steel, inhaled deeply, then cried. The tears flowed freely, and she couldn’t stop them.

  The man stood over her. His hat was gone. His gray hair swirled in the wind.

  “Just breathe,” he said. He put a hand on her back and helped her sit. “You’re all right. Just breathe.”

  “Thank you.” Abbie wheezed, coughed, then sat up. She couldn’t stop the shaking. Her arms folded tight with her hands tucked in her armpits. Her hair tangled around her head, brushed her face. Her cheeks flushed. She coughed again. The man towered over her. She didn’t recognize him and scooted crab-like toward the ladder. Her legs felt weak, rubbery. She clung to the railing. “You’ve been following me.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. He slowly removed his trench coat and stepped toward her. She flinched as he kneeled beside her. She was too winded to move. He wrapped the tan trench coat around her shoulders. “You’re in shock. Just take a moment to catch your breath.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to relax,” he said. He stretched out an arm. She pushed it away. He tried again. “You know me.”

  “I have to get outta here.” She unfolded her arms, shrugging the coat from her shoulders. It fell around her hips on the grate. She searched for her phone. It wasn’t there. It must have fallen from the ledge.

  “You know me, Abbie,” he said calmly. “You know me.”

  Abbie paused. She studied his face. There was something familiar. Even in the dark, his eyes sparkled. His smile widened, revealing a row of white teeth. Gradually, she remembered.

  A face popped-up in the attic scuttle, blocking the light from the hallway. It was a new man, with a moustache. He had blue eyes. Kind eyes. And he smiled.

  “Abbie Reed?” His voice was calm. “Abbie, I’m a police officer and you’re safe now.”

  Abbie remembered it clearly. She’d almost forgotten him. “You were there,” she said. “That night. You were there.”

  “I protected you.”

  “You carried me out of the house. You saw my sister—”

  He held out his hand. “That’s right, Abbie. It’s me. Charlie Hicks.”

  “I gotta get outta here. I gotta check on Susan.” She stood, catching a glimpse of the gun holstered on his belt around his waist. Her eyes opened wide. “Are you still a police officer?”

  “No. Not anymore. But I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “Get away from me.” She stood and climbed the metal ladder. Reaching the perimeter wall, she climbed over it and planted her feet on the concrete roof. She looked back. Charlie Hicks was on the ladder, climbing over the wall. She moved away from him, holding up a hand. “I said, get away from me.”

  “You need to sit down and catch your breath.”

  “No, stay back!” She dashed across the roof toward the exit door. He followed, came up behind her. She opened the door. He reached above her, held the door shut.

  “It’s not safe in there,” he said.

  She struggled with the handle, then turned. Her back against the metal door, she looked up at him. “What do you want?”

  “Don’t go back into the stairwell.” He whispered, his breath hot on her cheek. “It’s not safe.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He gripped her upper arm. She struggled, broke free of his grip. He backed away with both hands raised.

  “Abbie, I’ve been watching over you,” he said. “You’re not safe.”

  “I’m not safe? Is that a joke? Where’s McKenzie? What have you done with her?” She tightened her back against the metal door. She gripped the handle, her thumb on the knob.

  “I don’t know anything about your friend.” He lowered his hands. “But I can tell you that you’re in danger.”

  “Are you threatening me? Tell me what you did to her!”

  “Come with me and I’ll take you home.” He took a step toward her. “Back to Pembroke.” He stepped closer, reached for her. She kicked him, hard, directly in the groin. He grunted and doubled over. She swung the door open. Ran through it. Headed down the stairwell. The heavy exit door slammed shut, plunging her into darkness. She didn’t care. Blind, Abbie bound down the steps, two at a time.

  She held onto the railing along the wall, turned when she reached the fourth floor. She whipped around the next corner and dropped another level.

  When the door at the roof level opened above her, it flooded the stairwell with light. Abbie heard him coming down the steps after her. She picked up pace. The door above slammed shut, echoing, and the stairwell went dark again. She dropped to the second floor landing without looking back. His steps echoed, competing with her own footfalls. She ran faster.

  She dropped to the bottom floor. She ran her hands along the wall, feeling for the exit door. She jiggled the handle. It wouldn’t budge. The door was locked. She tried harder, looked behind her, then tried the door again.

  He was coming.

  She beat her fists on the door and screamed for help. She could feel him approaching, his body barreling down the stairs. In seconds he would be on top of her. She beat harder on the door and tried the handle again.

  It suddenly opened.

  Light rushed into the corridor, and Abbie raised an arm to protect her eyes. It was a flashlight.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” A man in a dark blue uniform held the door open. She rushed past him into the large receiving room.

  “Hold on,” he said. It was the police. There were two officers. She fell between them. They gripped her, held her up.

  “He’s in there.” She pointed to the dark stairwell. “He killed Susan. He killed her.”

  More police officers came into the room. Firmly gripping her arms, they led her through the receiving area. Holding the front doors open, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. The first two officers were stepping into the stairwell.

  “He’s got a gun,” she called to them. “He’s armed.”

  The officers disappeared into the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind them.

  Outside, Abbie headed into the street and feared she’d stepped into a war zone. Half a dozen police cruisers angled in front of the building, lights flashing in and out of sync. A fire truck blocked traffic on Eighth Street. A police officer held back a crowd of pedestrians and onlookers crowded on the sidewalks. Near the building, an EMS team had Susan on a gurney.

  As they passed, Abbie saw Susan’s face, bloodied and scratched. Her head was positioned in a brace with a collar around her neck. Her eyes were closed. As they brought the gurney to the ambulance, Abbie had to press herself all the way between two flashing squad cars to make room. Abbie froze where she stood; she couldn’t help herself. Susan’s face was just inches away, and Abbie couldn’t help but stare. Susan’s eyes opened ever so slightly. She made a sound, then lost consciousness again.

  “She’s alive!” Abbie looked at two EMTs dressed in white. “Is she going to be okay?”

  They pushed her aside as they lifted the gurney into the waiting ambulance.

  With her heart thumping in her ears, Abbie looked for Dharma and the twins. When she spotted them, she ran past the squad cars and police officers to the girls.

  “Susan’s alive,” Abbie said. Lindsey shook her head, her eyes swollen with tears. Abbie looked away at the screaming ambulance, then back at them. “I saw him,” she said. “I saw the man who did this.”

  “What’d he look like?” “Who was he?” “Was it the man who was following you?” They all asked at once.

  “Abbie’s eyes shifted to Dharma, then Lindsey and Lindsay. “McKenzie is in real danger.”

  “I know,” Dharma said. She handed Abbie her phone. “We got the text message too.”

  Abbie looked down at the phone as a female officer approached. Abbie had forgotten about the incoming text. It came
when she and Susan were standing on the ledge. It was the surprise beep that led to Susan’s fall. As the officer led her to a waiting ambulance, Abbie read the message.

  Chapter 26

  Susan was still in surgery.

  That was all Abbie knew at this point, as she sat in the family waiting area of Tampa General Hospital for what seemed like hours. She glanced at her watch. It was just past two AM. A bandage covered the scratches on her face and hands. She had a prescription for Tramadol. Doctors had checked her and deemed her well enough to be released. But with nowhere to go and nothing to do, she just sat outside the surgery ward, waiting.

  The twins had left hours ago. The last time Abbie saw Dharma, she was talking to the police back at the abandoned cigar factory. Now, it was just Abbie and Mrs. Nichols, sitting in uncomfortable hospital chairs at opposite ends of the waiting room.

  Mrs. Nichols sobbed into a wadded tissue. She’d obviously been waken in the middle of the night and rushed right down to the hospital. Her hair was uncombed. Her face puffy from crying. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, and wore a long coat over what was probably her nightgown. After several minutes, Abbie spoke to her.

  “I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “What were you doing there? Why in God’s name would you kids be—” Mrs. Nichols glanced up with swollen eyes. She couldn’t finish and broke down into heavy sobs, covering her mouth with both hands. The wet tissue fell to the floor.

  A voice from behind interrupted them. “Abbie Reed?”

  Abbie turned around to see an approaching plain-clothed detective. Tall, square jawed with a graying buzz cut, he walked with a commanding air of authority.

  “We’ve contacted your father. He’s on his way to pick you up.” He put a firm hand on Abbie’s shoulder. “Let’s give Mrs. Nichols some space.”

  “I’m really, really sorry.” Abbie said to the sobbing woman, then grabbed her purse and got up from the chair. He motioned for her to follow.