“Mr. Jones, what do you want?” she asked, not even bothering to pretend to be polite. That sort of thing was lost on Wilson Jones. He would just assume she was coming on to him.
The guy was a classic perv. From his oily, balding blond head to his corduroy slacks and polo shirt, there was just something inherently gross about him. The students always seemed to love him, but that was mostly because he pretty much functioned on the same mental level that they did.
“You know you have a really cute ass, right?” Jones actually sighed.
Cassidy whipped around, nearly falling off the ladder as she tried to remove her derriere from his line of sight. “The department head has talked to you about this kind of thing, Jones. You’re not supposed to say stuff like that. It’s sexual harassment.”
“It’s summer.”
She gaped at him, actually contemplating dropping something on his stupid head.
“You think that makes a difference? Really? I can’t believe you’re that stupid.”
“Hey!” He frowned up at her. “You can’t call me stupid. That’s demeaning. It’s against the employment code.”
“It’s summer,” she said mockingly. “Remember?”
“So I can grope you, is that what you’re suggesting.”
“Are you tired of your job or something?” Cassidy snapped. “Why are you behaving like one of the students? Surely you know better.”
“I was told that you’re not getting your contract renewed,” he said smugly.
She didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to respond. She could only stare down at him and wish that he would go away. If she wasn’t getting her contract renewed, it meant that there was no point in her being here this summer. On the other hand, she wasn’t really sure that she could trust the word of a guy they called “Handsy” Jones.
“Yeah. That shut you up,” he said triumphantly. His expression was so arrogant that she ground her teeth in an effort to keep her temper in check.
“Get out of my classroom.”
“You don’t work here anymore.” His snotty tone was pretty much the end of her patience.
Cassidy stomped her way back down from the top of the ladder. “Get. Out. Of. My. Classroom. Now.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to be so rude.”
“Rude? Are you insane? You think I’m being rude?” She put her hands on his chest and shoved him out of the storage closet. “You’re being an ass. Leave now, or I’m calling security.” She held up her hand, forestalling another jibe about her not working there anymore. “I’m female. And I’m employed until they tell me otherwise. And let me tell you, that’s enough for the security guys.”
He actually looked pouty. The guy had just turned around to huff and puff his way of the classroom when two huge men stepped through the door.
“Can I help you?” Cassidy asked, her mental radar screaming a warning that these guys were dangerous in a way Jones could only dream of.
“Cassidy Cross?”
“Yes?”
She already had her hand on the handle of the closet door. That was what saved her life when they pulled out their semi automatic pistols and started shooting. Cassidy yanked the door closed, swallowing a shriek of terror when she saw Wilson Jones fall to the floor like a limp rag doll. They had shot him. Oh God, they shot him!
Cassidy slammed the door closed and locked it from the inside. She thanked heaven it was one of those ancient handles that had to have a key from the outside. But that would buy her only a few seconds.
“Ms. Cross, you might as well come out. There’s nowhere to go,” one of the men called out.
Security had to be on their way. Surely someone had heard the spray of gunfire. This was a school, for goodness’ sake. Everyone was paranoid as hell about active shooters these days. But Cassidy had zero time to wait for rescue. She needed to get out of there.
Shimmying up the ladder, she got to the top and stepped gingerly onto a shelf. Below her, she could hear someone jiggling the handle. Above her head there was an access panel to the ventilation shafts that went all over the school. She pushed it hard, shoving it up into the ceiling and praying that the thing would hold her weight. They did this in movies all the time. Right?
She wished she had her phone. What she needed was Romero. But her phone was with her purse and keys on her desk inside the classroom. So she braced her feet on the shelf, put her head and shoulders up into the ventilation shaft, and pushed off with all her might.
There was a terrific crash as the shelf collapsed. It started a chain reaction that sent the contents of every single shelf in her closet tumbling to the floor. Talk about covering her tracks! She didn’t even want to imagine what sort of time it was going to take to sort out that mess! But for now she had a bigger problem. Her butt was currently hanging out of a ventilation shaft twelve plus feet above the floor.
She struggled to find a handhold inside the darkened shaft. Finally she managed to dig her fingertips into the metal crease between two adjoining plates. She pulled hard, finally dragging her entire body up into the shaft.
“What the hell?”
She heard the closet door open. They must have either broken in or found the key, which wasn’t really hidden. But there was no way they were coming in after her with that colossal mess to work around.
“Get your ass up there!” someone shouted.
The tower of teaching supplies shifted, the noise reaching Cassidy as she inched along the ventilation shaft, hoping she found someplace safe to make her exit.
“I can’t reach the ladder. Help me get this crap out of here!”
They were really going to try coming after her? Panic set in as she realized that she was a sitting duck up here in this confined space. She had to find a way out. Now.
*
Romero was standing in a coffee shop not far from the club. He had bought an overpriced cup of joe to make himself seem like part of the crowd, but he was really just watching the strange traffic going in and out of the building.
“Hey!” Someone standing behind him was poking their neighbor. “They just reported shots fired at that middle school about ten blocks from here. We should go see what’s going on.”
“Shots fired?” Someone else reached for a smartphone, presumably to pull up news feed. “Crap. They have no info on anything other than there are still a bunch of teachers unaccounted for.”
That was when Romero realized what he was hearing. He spun around and grabbed the stranger’s shoulder. “Where is that school?”
“Jefferson Davis?” The guy looked confused, but he pointed in a vaguely southwest direction. “It’s about eight or ten blocks that way. On this street.”
“Thanks.”
Romero didn’t hang around. He shoved his way through the coffee house hangers and sprinted in the direction of the school. There was no way it could be a coincidence. Cassidy worked in a middle school, which was, interestingly, only ten blocks from the club. Now there were shots fired and she was most likely there? It had to be related to this strange club conspiracy that Rachel had stumbled into.
He dodged around pedestrians and followed the howling of the police sirens. It all grew louder as he got closer. Did these guys really intend to make this much of a scene? Didn’t they know that the current social climate was a little over-sensitized to the occurrence of guns in schools?
The two-story middle school building was surrounded by a parking lot that was in turn filled with every sort of emergency vehicle imaginable. There was even a SWAT van. Romero took a deep breath and pulled every ounce of his military bearing around him.
Striding into the middle of the control center, he looked around for the person who looked as if they might have it together. For the most part there was a lot of staring blankly at screens, nail biting, and other useless behavior. However, there was one man with a clipboard and an earpiece.
“What do you mean you can’t establish any contact?”
“Are there hostages?” Romero asked quietly.
“Not that we can tell. There are four teachers unaccounted for.” The man had a grim expression on his face. “They were all in classrooms up on the second floor. The history department.”
“Do you have a list?”
“Only last names.” The man consulted his clipboard. “Applebee, Cross, Jones, and Wiggins.”
Romero’s gut clenched, but he shoved that emotional response into the kill-box and slammed the lid closed. This was no time to fall apart. “Have you spotted the gunmen?”
“No.”
“Second floor where?” Romero glanced at the building. “Do you have a schematic?”
“On the table.” The man gestured behind him.
Romero glanced it over, noting exits, entrances, windows, and ventilation access. He wondered if Cassidy would think to use that sort of route to escape. He suspected that she would. She was nothing if not resourceful.
“Wait.” The clipboard guy seemed to realize that he didn’t know Romero. “Who are you?”
“I’m a SEAL on leave to visit a friend who is now trapped in that building.”
“Sir, you can’t go in there.” Clipboard Guy blanched.
Romero snorted. “Watch me. Or rather, you won’t know that I’m there, so it doesn’t matter.”
He turned his back on the command tent and jogged a fair distance off before cutting back toward the building using a line of trees, shrubs, and bike racks as cover. With a deeply determined sigh, he gauged the building and decided on his plan of approach. He would find Cassidy. Then he would kill the men who had threatened her with his bare hands.
Chapter Eleven
Cassidy had a problem. She had been dragging herself along the bottom of the ventilation shaft for what felt like eternity. She had seen a variety of shafts that cut off to the right, but she figured they led to other classrooms in her hallway. That pretty much meant the guys with the guns were hanging around in that vicinity. She needed something like an administrative office, or preferably an exit to the outside. It wasn’t like there was a YOU ARE HERE map anywhere handy, so her only option was to try to imagine where she was by thinking about what was very likely below her.
She stopped moving and held her breath, listening for pursuit. So far she hadn’t heard anyone else enter the shaft. She had to believe that she would hear it. The thing was a giant metal box a million feet long. Surely she would hear vibrations or noise or something if another person started crawling around in here.
There was light up ahead. Her natural instinct was to hurry. She hated the boxed in feeling she was getting from crawling around in here. Still, she forced herself to slow down and be quiet and careful. There was absolutely no reason to announce her presence by banging around on the metal walls of her hamster habitrail.
Her tunnel was coming to an end. The trail ended in a large grate. There was a breezy rush of air coming through it. Dust particles flew around in the air, and she could see little cobwebs waving around. Apparently the school vents needed a serious cleaning. She didn’t touch the grate. She didn’t want to shove the thing out before she knew what she was getting into. Putting her face up as close as she dared, she shut one eye and peered out.
“Shit.”
Somehow she’d managed to get all the way to the gymnasium. Her ventilation shaft ended in a thirty foot drop to the gym floor. Cassidy pulled herself into a sitting position and curled up against one wall of the shaft. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her face against her legs. She needed to think! There had to be a way to get out of here without falling to her death.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look again. There was a straight drop to the floor, yes. But there were also half a dozen thick steel beams running across the ceiling. With the grate in the way she couldn’t tell how far it was from the ventilation return to the beam.
Spinning to face the grate, she folded up her legs and gathered her strength. Then, with one mighty shove, she pushed the grate with her feet. The thing launched out of the opening as if she had catapulted it through the gym. She poked her head out of the opening and watched it sail through the air before crashing to the wood floor and leaving a long dent.
“Oops. Coach Parsons is going to be pissed.” She made a face. “Although I don’t know if I care about that right now.”
She was just feeling the urge to give an insane giggle when she felt the temperature inside the metal shaft rise almost exponentially. Turning quickly, she saw a red glow growing brighter as it got nearer and nearer.
“No. No. No!” she muttered urgently. “You have got to be kidding me!”
*
It didn’t take Romero long to find where this entire debacle had begun. Once he reached the history department, he could smell the blood and follow the carnage. The classroom at the end of the hallway stood with the door wide open. Everything else was closed. There were four teachers missing, and he found three of them almost instantly.
One male was splayed on his belly in the hallway, his hand gripping a phone. He’d been shot in the back as he was fleeing. There was another woman who appeared to have been shot as she was attempting to flee her classroom. Her door was half closed, with the upper portion of her torso blocking the doorway.
Romero squatted in the hallway, staring at the bodies and trying to put things together in his head. He needed to be rational. Most of all he needed to be calm. No matter that his heart was trying to claw its way out of his chest. This was not the time to start imagining scenarios in which Cassidy ended up dead. He refused to believe that had happened. She was tough, and she was a quick thinker.
The gunmen weren’t walking to the end of the hallway. They were coming back.
That was what was odd about the placement of the bodies. They were facing what appeared to be the wrong direction. So the gunmen hadn’t come in bullets flying. They had come quietly, gone to the end of the hallway, and then something had happened to cause the rest of the collateral damage.
Romero stood up and crept down toward the classroom at the end of the hallway. He nudged the half-open door until he could slip through the opening. The first thing he saw was a body tossed aside. Most of the blood and arterial spray appeared to be in front of a closet.
Glancing around the room, Romero spotted Cassidy’s wallet, keys, and phone. He took quick stock of the scene. The man on the floor must have been in here talking to Cassidy. She was likely in the closet doing something while they were talking.
Romero walked closer and opened the door. “Good girl,” he murmured.
He leaned over a five-foot pile of teaching supplies clustered around the bottom of a ladder. The ventilation shaft up at the top of the closet was open. His Cassidy was nothing if not resourceful.
So the gunmen entered, started shooting, missed Cassidy, and chased her into the vents.
Now he had to figure out where she’d gone, which involved going up the ladder. He gave one athletic leap and managed to land on the ladder without killing himself or toppling the narrow metal frame. He scurried up the steps and poked his head into the ventilation shaft.
The first thing he noticed was that it only went one way. Since this was the last classroom in the hallway, the shaft went back down toward the main part of the building. The schematic he’d seen suggested this shaft would end at the gym.
The second thing he noticed was that there was an unbearable heat inside the shaft. He closed his eyes and felt his face flame red hot from some source farther down. He started to climb down, but then he heard voices. Their low timbre seemed to drift down the length of the shaft from another classroom perhaps two or three doors down.
“Where the fuck is she?” one voice asked.
“She’ll have to come out in a minute. Otherwise she’ll fry in there, and our job will be done anyway.”
A sense of urgency overcame Romero. He backed down the ladder and leaped back into Cassidy’s classroom. Moving fast and low, he exited
the classroom and made his way down the hall. He could only judge where the men were by trying to approximate their voices, but that didn’t really matter. He needed to find Cassidy and get her out of the ventilation shaft.
Crouching outside the classroom three doors down from Cassidy’s, he heard the two men inside. They were still squabbling. Bracing his boots flat on the floor, he raised himself just far enough to see though the window in the classroom door. He dropped back to his haunches, exhaled a deep breath, and tried to remain calm.
The two idiots had basically built a bonfire out of books and school supplies. They’d stacked a bunch of desks to reach the vent, and then they’d built the fire on top of that. Now they appeared to be standing there waiting for something to happen.
Dumbasses.
He continued down the hallway, knowing he needed to find Cassidy and get her out of the building. Fast. There was no way that fire was going to put itself out. Once the particleboard in the desktops caught and started smoldering, the ceiling itself would go up in flames too. Then the whole wind was going to be a loss.
*
Cassidy let her legs dangle out of the ventilation shaft and tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach. She was going to puke. That was pretty much a given. The only way to get out of here was to take a leap of faith from the end of the shaft to the beam. It wasn’t far, maybe only a few feet. But her movement was hampered by her awkward position inside the shaft.
She couldn’t take a running leap. She could only swing her legs and try to launch herself out. Her palms were sweating, and she felt like she needed a good cry just to relieve the stress.
“You can do this,” she coached herself. “Stop being a weenie and just go for it.”
She scooted to the farthest edge, braced her feet against the brackets on the ventilation shaft mount, and then pushed off. For one second she was flying. Then she felt her hands touch the steel beam, and she grabbed on with every bit of strength she could muster.
Wrapping her arms around the beam, she swung a leg up onto the narrow lip. Finally she managed to pull herself to a standing position in the small space between the bottom of the beam and the ceiling. Holding tight, she forced herself to take deep breaths in and out. She hadn’t fallen. She was still alive. And she wasn’t baking in the broiling hot waves of heat wafting out of the ventilation shaft.
SEAL INVESTIGATIONS: A 5-Books SEAL Romance Series Page 7
