by Debra Webb
She pressed the button a third time. What was wrong with this thing?
Still no light and no bump and slide sound in the shaft.
Okay, that was it. She wasn’t waiting any longer. Taking separate routes to ensure Fincher didn’t come down one way while they went up another had been a good plan, but time was wasting.
Watching for the slightest movement anywhere in the lobby, she took the same route as McBride. The idea that Fincher could be in here somewhere watching his cracked plan play out had her just the slightest bit unnerved. So far there was every indication that this man didn’t actually want to hurt anyone, but he was a nutcase—his motivation and goal could change any time without notice.
Once she was in the stairwell, McBride’s footsteps overhead allowed her to breathe again. She hustled to catch up. It wouldn’t have been possible if he hadn’t heard her and slowed the pace of his climb to wait for her.
“Elevator isn’t functioning,” she said between gasps for air. She hadn’t worked out in five days and her body was revolting against the abrupt extra exertion.
“Could be a safety precaution in case of a break-in,” he offered.
Possibly. If vandals broke in there was no reason to make their work easier. But then it could be Fincher’s doing.
“Top floor,” he announced as they arrived on five.
Slowly, methodically, they searched each floor, turning on lights as they went. Every office. Every closet. That the rooms were empty helped speed up the process.
The room where the printing press had once produced the city’s news still housed equipment that required additional time. Then there was the shipping area. Any place Worth might be hidden had to be examined. They didn’t bother calling his name since the rest of the victims had been sedated. Chances were he had been as well.
They found zilch.
No planted explosives. No fire traps. No Worth.
“How much time do we have left?” McBride asked.
She checked her cell. “One hour twenty minutes.”
“He’s gotta be here. The door was open. The clues add up.” McBride walked around the lobby as they started back at square one. They surveyed the area, double-checked every nook and cranny.
“We’ll have to call in soon or Pierce will be sending in the troops.” She wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up. Keeping Pierce and Birmingham PD out of here was essential. They didn’t want Fincher making good on his promise.
McBride stopped in the middle of the lobby, dropped the backpack and bracketed his hands on his hips. “If we don’t find him first, he’s to take a fall,” he said, repeating the threat in the e-mail. “He’s not hanging by a thread anywhere outside. Not in the stairwell. Not from any of the ceilings.”
His gaze landed on hers as the only other possibility took shape in her head.
“That’s why the elevator isn’t working,” she said, giving voice to their shared epiphany.
“Back to the top.” He grabbed the backpack and rushed toward the stairwell door.
By the time they reached five again, she was glad he was carrying the backpack. Her heart was racing. Her adrenaline was pumping hard, preparing her to face difficulty.
Once they reached the elevators on the top floor, McBride dug out the pry bar and dropped the bag onto the floor. “Make sure no one sneaks up on us, Grace.”
He didn’t have to worry, she wasn’t taking her eyes off that corridor. If anything moved, she was drawing her weapon.
She did have to glance McBride’s way a couple of times when it sounded like he was wrecking the elevator doors. When he got them pried apart, he peered down into the shaft.
“Car’s down on the first floor.”
She nodded her understanding. Dead end. Dammit. Her stomach threatened to embarrass her. She swallowed, took a few deep breaths.
McBride moved to the second elevator. Pried, pulled, and pried some more until the doors slid apart. The elevator car waited as if they had summoned it for a ride down.
McBride stepped inside for a look while she kept up her surveillance on the corridor when what she really wanted to do was take a look for herself.
“Looks like the engineer has been at work.” McBride motioned for her to join him. “Check this out.”
The control panel had been removed from the wall and a black box had taken its place. On the black box was a timer, counting down from fifty-six minutes.
Their gazes collided. Oh Jesus. She suddenly understood what that timer meant. “The only reason he would have a timer on this elevator—”
“Was if he wanted it to start moving at a certain time,” McBride finished. “We need to go down one floor.”
He carried the pry bar but she snagged the backpack he’d forgotten as they rushed for the stairwell again. Every step down she reminded herself that they had time to get the job done. No need to worry yet. But the idea that the elevator could jolt into action in advance of the specified time had her stomach twisting into knots. McBride had told her how the timer on the Trenton explosive had reacted to his movements. And though the C-4 hadn’t been real, there had been danger all the same.
On four, McBride began the same process of prying the doors apart. She served as lookout.
Her pulse started that frantic rhythm she had come to recognize as her ready-for-action mode. They had to find Worth. Had to get him to safety. And then the scary part would finally be over. Then they could focus on getting the bad guy. Considering what they had found in his house he would most likely be spending the rest of his life in an institution.
When the sound of straining metal signaled that the doors were opening, she abandoned her lookout post and moved in next to McBride.
The doors parted and there was Worth, his face pale. Like the other victims, he appeared asleep, sedated probably. The word ‘haughty’ was written in black marker across his forehead. A harness had been secured around his upper torso, then attached to a line that hung from a pulley secured to the underside of the elevator, leaving him suspended in midair four stories—four and one half counting the mezzanine—above the lobby level.
Instinct had her reaching for him.
McBride held her back. “He’s too far away from the door to reach. You could lose your balance and fall.”
She stared into the deep, dark elevator shaft. Definitely a bad way to go.
“We have to call Pierce,” she urged, her mouth going so dry her tongue would hardly push out the syllables. “We need help.”
“If anyone else comes close to this building he might remotely set the elevator in motion. We can’t take that risk.”
Worth would be squashed. She shuddered.
Vivian put her trembling hand over her mouth to hold back the sound that rose in her throat. McBride was right. What the hell were they going to do? That damned line holding him up looked too flimsy. He hung out of their reach from here. Fincher had evidently secured Worth in this manner while the elevator was stopped on the second floor. Attaching the cable would have been simple with a ladder. Then, one press of a button and Worth was hoisted upward.
Vivian shuddered. She was suddenly glad that Worth was unconscious. If he was awake he would only be trying to get loose, moving, fighting his bindings, and that would make matters worse. Other cables and wires dangled around him from the underside of the car. If there was only an access from the floor of the elevator car...but there wasn’t—only from the top.
“Here are our options.”
Did they have any? She searched McBride’s face, hoped he had a plan that would work. Even he couldn’t do magic. Or fly.
“Since we can’t risk trying to override the control, one of us will have to climb around to the back side of the shaft.” He gestured to the various points around the inner walls where a foot or hand could find support. More cables lined the walls, offering something—however precarious—to hang on to.
“Once on that ladder”—he pointed to the back wall of the shaft where narrow metal
rungs were attached about two feet apart in a path that appeared to go all the way down and all the way up—“Worth would be well within arm’s reach. Whoever goes that route will give him a push, swinging him in this direction so the person on this side can grab hold and cut him loose.”
Vivian wasn’t stupid or slow. She understood that she couldn’t possibly hope to grab Worth and hold him in position long enough to cut him loose and then drag him to safety. They would both end up swinging back out over the open shaft.
She would have to be the one to climb around to the ladder. No question about it.
“Or we could try to find a rope or something long enough for the person on the ladder to loop around him. Then one end could be tossed to the person over here or hung on to during the climb back around to this side,” he suggested.
“The building is empty except for a few pieces of ancient equipment.” She stated the obvious, mostly to let him know she understood there was no other way to do this. “There’s nothing to use except the stuff we brought with us.”
“So, which side do you want?”
“Like I have an option.” Since when had McBride turned into such a gentleman? Maybe he was afraid she was going to fall and he wanted to be nice for a change.
She kicked off her pumps and peeled off her burgundy jacket. As an afterthought she shouldered out of her holster and passed her weapon to him.
“Listen to me, Grace.”
“I know, I know,” she mumbled. “You’ve been waiting all this time to have me strip in front of you.”
He grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. That usual wicked gleam was missing, replaced by an intensity that made her heart stumble. “Hang on tight with your fingers and your toes. And whatever you do, don’t look down.”
“Okay.” She wet her dry lips. “No problem.”
With one last bracing indrawn breath, she reached for the closest extrusion inside the shaft, settled one foot on the narrow concrete ledge that went all the way around to the ladder on both sides and prepared to push off.
Keep your attention on Worth. You’re his only chance.
“Wait, Grace.”
She froze.
“Your legs are shaking.”
Well, duh. She was scared shitless.
“Take a breath,” he ordered. “Try to relax your muscles.”
Easy for him to say.
“Do it, Grace!”
“Okay, okay.” Vivian closed her eyes and focused on relaxing her muscles, calming her nerves. Concentrate. One muscle at a time...relax.
“Good,” McBride praised. “Just take it slow and easy. We’re not out of time yet.”
But, the truth hit her, if they ran out of time, she and Worth would both be killed.
No more wasting time. Get moving!
Slow but steady, she inched away from the safety of the door...of McBride.
The dust settled in her nostrils and she sneezed. The cables she grabbed onto felt greasy. But she kept moving. Along the side wall, then across the back.
When she got within reach of the vertical row of rungs, she scrubbed her palm on her skirt then grabbed hold of one. She swung her left foot onto a lower rung, then the right. Thank God. She made it. Hanging on to the rungs was a whole lot easier.
“Hook your left arm around a rung so you’ll have a better hold,” McBride suggested. “Then push Worth this way with your right hand.”
Easier said than done. She had to turn her body facing the opening where McBride stood. No wonder he wanted her to hook her left arm around the rung. Though she had wiped her hand, her fingers still felt slippery.
With some precarious maneuvering she got into position.
Worth was still out cold. “Sorry about this, SAC,” she muttered as she grabbed the harness and drew his limp body toward her then prepared to push.
The line went abruptly slack...Worth dropped...Vivian didn’t let go.
His weight snapped to a stop as the line tightened and her feet slipped.
She fell...dangled in the air...barely holding on to the rung with one hand and Worth’s harness with the other.
The unconscious man’s body weight was pulling her away from the rung...her fingers were slipping. Her heart stalled.
“Don’t you let go of that rung, Grace!” McBride shouted. He was moving around the shaft, trying to get closer.
“I...can’t...hang...on...”
Her hand fell away from the rung.
Her stomach rushed into her throat.
Her grip on the harness was all that separated her from a high-speed encounter with the ground floor.
The horrified scream echoing in the shaft as she looked down was her own.
She grappled for something else to hang on to. Worth’s jacket. Her fingers wadded into the fabric. “God, oh God!”
Her face was plastered against his back. Her right leg stretched back toward the ladder but she couldn’t reach it.
“Hang on, Grace,” McBride called to her. “I’m almost there.”
“Grace?”
Worth? She angled her head so that she could see his profile. He blinked repeatedly as if trying to clear his vision. “SAC?”
His arms flopped uselessly as if he were trying to grab onto something but couldn’t make his limbs work.
“Take it easy, Worth,” McBride urged. “We’ve got you. Just stay calm.”
Worth cried out...the sound pure terror.
“Don’t look down,” Grace pleaded. “Don’t look down. McBride’s coming to help us.”
Her heart jolted against her ribs, floundering into a frantic rhythm. Dragging in air was impossible. All she could do was hang on. If that pulley gave way...she forced the thought away.
“What the...hell?” Worth looked from Grace to McBride. He swallowed with difficulty, gave his head a shake. “It’s Fincher,” he said to McBride, his voice hoarse. “Martin Fincher.”
“We know,” McBride assured. He had reached the rungs now. “We’re going to get him. Right now let’s just focus on getting you and Grace to safety.”
Worth’s attention shifted back to Vivian. “He wanted me to call McBride...” Worth’s next breath hitched like a sob. “I thought we had it under control. The kid died.”
“We know what happened.” Vivian gave him the most reassuring look she could under the circumstances. “You did all you could.”
“No,” Worth argued. “I should’ve listened.” He looked to McBride again. “But you couldn’t have saved them all.”
“Listen up, Worth,” McBride ordered, “we’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need you to reach out to me.”
Worth closed his eyes. “This is my fault...”
“Sir, you—”
“Grace!”
Her attention jerked back to McBride.
“We don’t have time for this shit.” He extended his hand. “If he won’t listen, I need you to. Take hold of my hand.”
One by one, the fingers of Vivian’s left hand unknotted from Worth’s trousers. Trembling, she reached toward McBride. She concentrated hard at keeping the fingers of her right hand gripped tightly around the harness. Don’t let go.
Her fingers tangled with McBride’s for an instant then he reached past her hand and got a grip on her wrist.
“Wrap your fingers around my arm,” he told her. “I’m going to pull you toward me. Once I’ve got you back on the ledge, I’ll get Worth.”
McBride pulled her toward him, Worth swayed in that direction with her.
“All right now,” McBride said when her face was only inches from his chest. “Get a hold on the waistband of my jeans with your other hand.”
She shook her head. “I can’t let go of him.”
“You have to if—”
“Do what he says, Grace,” Worth ordered.
“But what if—”
The sensation of falling sucked the air out of her lungs.
Her body jerked to a stop...Worth’s weight tore at her sh
oulder. The fingers clamped around the harness started to sweat.
The only thing preventing her from falling was McBride’s hold on her wrist.
The only thing preventing Worth from falling was her hold on the harness.
The line had fallen free of the pulley. It dangled from the harness...plunging straight down.
It took every molecule of determination she possessed to hold on.
“Don’t you let go of me,” McBride commanded. “Look at me, Grace.”
She blinked, fixed her gaze on his.
That was when she knew just how bad the situation was. Fear glittered in his eyes.
“Okay,” he said, his voice ragged. “I want you to grab onto my waistband with your left hand.”
Since he was clutching her left wrist, she didn’t see a problem with that. She only needed to be close enough.
“When you’ve got a good hold on me, I’m going to let go of your wrist and get a grip on Worth’s harness. Then I want you to let go of him and climb your way around me and over to the ledge.”
She nodded. She wasn’t exactly sure she could do it, but she would try like hell.
“Here we go.”
McBride’s arm trembled as he pulled her upward the few inches necessary for her to grab onto his waistband. “Got it?”
She moistened her lips. “Got it.”
“Now, try to find a rung with your feet.”
He held on to her wrist while she did so. She nodded to let him know mission accomplished. She couldn’t speak now. All her energy was focused on holding on to Worth. Her arm felt numb and tingly. The nylon strap had burned into her fingers. Her shoulder felt as if it would slip from its socket.
“Hang on while I reach for Worth.”
McBride reached out, leaning over her as best he could. “Take my hand, Worth.”
When Worth moved even slightly the strain on her fingers increased. She cried out.
McBride leaned farther away from the rung that he held on to with his other hand. “Come on, Worth. You gotta reach higher.”
