In the middle of the factory, a metal staircase rose up to the second level. “What about up there?”
Timothy tilted his head up. “The foreman’s office. It does look like the most likely place for Billy to hide. You stay down here, and I’ll go up.”
The rusted stairs looked like they would give under my cat’s weight. “Are you sure the staircase will hold you?”
“I’ll be fine.” Timothy placed a foot on the step and the rusted metal gave way beneath him.
I rushed over. “Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”
“I’m okay,” Timothy said, breathing hard. “Good thing it’s winter, and I’m wearing a lot of layers. The metal didn’t even touch me.” He glanced down at his torn pant leg. “I can’t say the same for my jeans.”
I grabbed Timothy by both of his arms to help him balance and he pulled his leg free of the metal. He brushed off his leg. “We need to be more careful.”
“You’re not going to be able to go up there. You’re too heavy. I’ll go up.”
He shook his head. “No way. If the stairs can’t hold me, there is no way they held Billy.”
“We can’t come all the way here and not check.”
Timothy pursed his lips.
I squeezed his arm. “I’ll be up and down before you know it.”
Timothy started breathing hard. “No.”
“Timothy, what . . .” And then I realized what was bothering him. I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Nothing like Aaron’s accident is going to happen to me.”
His eyes widened. “How did you know that I was thinking of Aaron?”
I cinched him closer. “Because I know you.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I know you too.” He tilted my chin up. “You’re going up there, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Okay. Be careful.” He removed the flashlight clipped to his belt and handed it to me.
“I’m always careful.”
He rolled his eyes, reminding me of Becky.
I skipped over the demolished first step and moved to the second one. It gave a fraction of an inch, but it held my weight. I moved to the next step. The higher up I went, the more stable the stairs became. I hopped onto the landing and waved to Timothy a floor below.
“Hurry up,” he said, the expression on his face strained.
I moved along the landing to the office door, which was open halfway, and I pushed it in the rest of the way with my boot. The room was dank and smelled of sour milk. I felt the wall for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing happened. I should have remembered that electricity to the building had been cut off years before.
I shone the flashlight around the room. There was no sign anyone had been inside the office for decades. Beyond the first room was a second door that led into an inner office. I picked my way across the room and tried the doorknob. It turned easily.
It wasn’t an office but a large closet. Three wire hangers hung from a wooden pole, and empty cardboard boxes lay on their sides. I sighed. Timothy would be disappointed I took the unnecessary risk of checking the second floor to find nothing. I was beginning to believe that Billy wasn’t inside the factory and never had been there. Chief Rose was right. He was halfway to Mexico by now.
I closed the closet door and left the room. I stood on the landing and waved to Timothy.
“Did you find anything?” he called.
“No.” I moved along the landing to the next door. It opened into another office suite. This one was laid out identically to the first. Thankfully, it didn’t smell as badly, but it was in the same disarray as its matching office. I opened the closet door and shone the flashlight into the tiny space. The light bounced off a large orange duffel bag. I looked closer. Curt had said that Billy took an orange duffel bag when he left. There was also a small stockpile of canned food and dozens of empty beer bottles. A shiver overtook me. Timothy was been right—Billy had been camping out in the factory.
Still, I couldn’t understand how he got up to the landing. How had the stairs held his weight when they couldn’t hold Timothy’s?
I backed out of the office to the landing.
“Find anything?” Timothy asked.
“Yes. Billy’s not here, but I found his stuff.” I paused. “He’s living here.”
“Great. You should come down now.”
I pointed to the last door. “There’s one more.”
Timothy blew air out of his mouth. “Okay, but be quick.”
As I moved to the last door, the landing narrowed slightly. I realized it was because a large piece of it had broken off and fallen to the floor below. Carefully, I tried the handle of the third door. It wouldn’t budge. “It’s locked,” I called down to Timothy.
“Okay, we’ve been here long enough. Come down.”
Tentatively, I made my way back across the landing and to the staircase. I placed my foot on the first step and a bolt gave way. I gasped. The staircase crashed to the floor. I gripped the hand rail and pulled myself back onto the landing, my heart inside of my throat. Dust from the factory floor billowed into my face. I scrambled to my feet. “Timothy!”
He coughed as the dust settled. “Are you okay?” His voice was sharp with concern.
I took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m fine.”
I stood twenty feet above him. Jumping down on the shard-covered concrete floor was not an option. “There must be another staircase down.”
“Was there an exit through the offices? Maybe there is back way out.”
I gripped the railing. “No for the first two, and the third one is locked.”
“We need to call for help then,” Timothy said.
“I think it’s time to call the chief.”
Timothy grimaced. “Let me try Danny first. He can bring the extension ladder from our house.”
Why was Timothy so reluctant to call the Appleseed Creek police chief? Should I call her myself? I was about to ask him both of those questions when Timothy removed his cell phone from his pocket. “There’s no reception in here. We’re too deep into the factory. I’m going to have to go outside.”
I removed my cell from my pocket and found the same thing.
Timothy’s forehead creased. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you up there.”
“I’ll be fine. You’ll only be gone for a few minutes. No one is here, including Billy.”
He grimaced. “Don’t move.”
I lowered my chin. “Where would I go?”
He shook his head and walked back toward the entrance to the factory. I sat in front of the third office door, leaning my back against it, and hoped it wouldn’t be a long wait for Danny to bring the ladder. I wished I had told Timothy to call Tee while he was outside. I didn’t want her to worry when we did not return back at the expected time.
I heard a sound behind me, and strained to identify it. Just then, the door flew open in toward the office and I fell on my back. Hands grabbed me by both of my wrists and dragged me into the dark office.
Chapter Twenty-One
The hands let me go. The flashlight that had been sitting on my lap was nowhere to be found, but enough light shone through the broken windows of the office that I could make out the enormous shape of a man blocking my only way out of the office. Slivers of the sun’s rays backlit his red hair, but his face remained in the shadows. Could he see me clearly?
I scrambled to my feet, my hands touching something wet on the floor. I shivered to think what that might be. “Billy, what are you doing?”
“Why are you here?” His words slurred and his breath reeked of alcohol.
I wiped my hand on my jeans. How many empty beer bottles had I counted in the second office? Fifteen? Twenty?
He swayed. “No one was supposed to find me here. Everyone was supposed to leave me alone. Why are you here?” He bellowed the question again.
I took a huge step back and my heel connected with the corner of a cot. I spun around and squinted in the gloomy s
pace, able to make out an army cot and two plastic rolling crates. One crate overflowed with enough rolls of duct tape to wrap me into a human cocoon. I faced Billy again. Even in the dim light, he didn’t look so good. Definitely drunk. Sober Billy had been affable and endearing. I had no idea what drunk Billy was like and had no desire to find out. “I’m here with your friend, Timothy.”
He ran his hands down the length of his face. “He won’t be my friend when he knows what I’ve done.”
I shivered. “What have you done, Billy? Do you mean Katie Lambright?”
“No,” he bellowed. “I had nothing to do with that Amish girl.”
“Do you mean—”
“Chloe!” Timothy voice sounded muffled and far away. “Danny’s on his way.”
Billy launched at me and pressed his meaty hand across my mouth. His other arm wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my side.
“Chloe?” Timothy’s voice pitched up an octave.
I struggled against Billy’s grasp, smelling the alcohol on his clothing and his breath. I bit the inside of his bare hand. It tasted like salt and dirt. I gagged as Billy yowled and yanked his hand away. He bent over, nursing his injured hand, and I pushed him aside. He barely moved an inch, but it was enough for me to squeeze by him and throw open the office door. I half stumbled, half fell on to the narrow landing.
Timothy stared up at me. “Chloe, what’s going on?”
I gasped for breath. “Billy. In. Office.”
Timothy ran to the spot just below me. “I thought you said no one was up there.”
“I guess I was wrong.”
Behind me, Billy cried in anger. I dashed out of the way of the doorframe. With nowhere else to go, I ran to the end of the railing as Billy stumbled onto the landing. The mesh metal surface groaned under his added weight. Could it hold the both of us?
In the light, I saw Billy’s bloodshot eyes. His clothes were caked with dirt and dust from living inside the warehouse, and the sleeve of his coat was torn. He gripped a roll of duct tape in his hand as if it were a life preserver. Billy had some of the most creative uses for duct tape, and I hoped he didn’t have me in mind for any of them.
Billy took another step onto the landing. The metal screeched in protest. I moved to the far end of the platform, below a twenty-foot drop to the unforgiving floor.
Timothy’s voice was tight. “Billy, stop. The landing can’t hold both of you. Go back into the office.”
Billy’s eyes flicked away from my face and down to Timothy. “What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. You’re going to tell the police where to find me.”
Timothy held out his hands. “Billy, please, what do you plan to do? Chloe’s done nothing to you.”
“She’s here. You’re both here, and now my one safe place is no longer safe. You are forcing me to leave.”
“No one is forcing you to do anything. Chloe is your friend.” Timothy’s voice was confident, commanding, yet I could see the fear in his eyes. “You don’t want to see her hurt, do you? If you keep walking on that platform, it’s going to give and you both will be seriously hurt—or worse.”
I leaned up against the railing with my back, and it gave a fraction of an inch. It was in as good of shape as the stairwell—which lay in pieces on the floor. Could I escape to the first office to hide? Did the door lock work? I couldn’t remember if I saw a lock when I searched the room earlier, and the last thing I wanted was to be trapped in another office with Billy. I darted a glance toward that office. I had to try. Timothy was right—the landing couldn’t hold the both of us much longer. I inched toward the first office door, roughly ten feet away from me.
Halfway along the landing, Billy’s eyes seemed to focus on me, so I stood still, trying to steady the rise and fall of my chest. “Billy, you said that you had nothing to do with the death of the Amish girl. If something happens to me, no one will believe you. You will be charged with both crimes.”
“Billy, she’s right.” Timothy’s voice was tight.
I began inching to the first door again.
“I didn’t hurt that girl.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if reliving the discovery of Katie’s body behind the Gundy barn. “She was already dead, long dead before I found her.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police?” Timothy asked. “Why did you run?”
I held out my hand. It was one arm’s length from the doorknob.
He rounded on me, and I froze, still too far from the office door. His eyes clouded over. “Because I knew what would happen. This is actually what would happen. They would find out about my past and believe I did it. But I tell you I didn’t.” His voice rose. “I promise you I didn’t. You know I’ve been to prison, don’t you?”
“I . . . well . . .” I stumbled over my words.
“Billy, whatever you did years ago doesn’t matter. What you do today does.” Timothy voice was growing hoarse.
Billy’s eyes grew sober. “You’re wrong. The past does matter. I know the police chief believes I did it. She took one look at that barn and knew I was the one using it for storage. I have been for years. No one knew or cared what I did in the barn. There are no animals, and the Gundys have been gone for a long while now. I would never hurt anyone.”
“Prove it by not hurting Chloe.” Timothy’s voice wavered ever so slightly.
Billy’s eyes flashed and his brows lowered, but just as quickly the anger in them faded away. He slid to a seated position on the landing in front of the second office door. “How are we going to get down?” Billy moaned. “You’ve destroyed my sanctuary. This was my escape from all the bad in the world.”
“You climbed the stairs to the landing?” Timothy asked.
Billy nodded. “Yes. I knew they were weakening and tried to only go up and down once per day.”
My hand closed around the doorknob and I threw the first door open, only to discover my worst fear—a broken lock. My safe haven had disappeared. Billy may have seemed harmless sitting defeated on the landing, but his mood was unpredictable. And he still had the duct tape.
I shuffled back to my place at the end of the landing. I pressed a hand to my chest and felt the rapid beat of my heart. Danny was on the way, but would he arrive before the landing gave away completely?
Timothy held his useless cell phone in his hand. I knew what he was thinking. Was I safe enough for him to run outside and call Chief Rose? Like me, I was sure that he regretted not calling her from the very beginning. I cringed to think of the chief’s reaction to our stupidity.
Billy pointed a sausage-like finger at his friend. “Don’t call the police. I will throw her off this landing if you do, and you’d better hope you are a good catcher.”
My stomach roiled. How could Billy say that to his friend? Timothy’s lips stretched into a thin line as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. “What happened to you?” The sound of betrayal was thick in Timothy’s voice.
Billy dropped his hands to his lap and refused to look at Timothy. Instead, he turned his gaze on me. I shivered in light of his wild expression.
“Should I call you Walter, then?” Timothy asked, making a grab for Billy’s attention.
The larger man’s head snapped around. Timothy’s ploy had worked. “I don’t go by that name any more. That was my past. I’ve changed.”
“Have you changed, Billy? If you are willing to put Chloe in harm’s way like this, I don’t think you’ve changed at all. It looks like you are still living a life of crime. I don’t know you at all. You really are Walter. Billy is gone.”
Billy shook his head like a stubborn child, his chin lowered toward the floor. “No. No. I’m not like that at all. I’m not that man anymore. I made mistakes, and I paid for them.”
Timothy tilted his head back farther. “If you paid for them, why is there still a warrant out for your arrest twelve years later?”
Billy struggled to his feet, his movement too much for the already taxed platform. The landing underneath my
feet groaned, followed by an awful snap as the support gave way. Billy clawed the air for something to hold onto—and found nothing.
I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the rickety railing, willing it to hold me. I whispered a prayer. Billy and his portion of the platform crashed to the floor, dust billowing into the air.
“Chloe!” Timothy screeched.
I waved the dust from my face, and coughed. “I’m okay. I’m still on the landing.” I coughed again. “Where’s Billy?”
Billy let out a deep, torturous groan. At least that told us he was alive.
Through the haze the dust created, Timothy knelt beside his friend. “Billy?”
Billy whimpered.
At this point, the platform was too unstable for me to take one step away from my little corner. The cloud of dust in the air was too thick for me to see how badly Billy was hurt.
Billy said something in a choked sob, but I couldn’t understand what. The sound of screeching metal and his crash landing played over in my head.
Timothy coughed. “I think his leg is broken. It’s at a weird angle, and he has a gash on his head that’s bleeding pretty badly.”
The dust began to settle enough for me to see their faces. Timothy ripped off his black wool winter coat and wrapped it over the wound on Billy’s head. “This is not going to stop the bleeding without some pressure,” he said.
I knew he was right. “Go call for help, then. But return as fast as you can, so you can hold that to his head.”
“Right.” Timothy jumped up and sprinted from the factory.
“Billy? Billy, it’s going to be okay.” My teeth chattered.
He moaned softly. I took any noise he made as a good sign. Billy’s face was turned away from me, and I couldn’t see his expression. I felt helpless trapped twenty feet above while Billy could be bleeding to death.
Timothy ran back into the factory. He fell to his knees beside Billy and held his coat down on the man’s wound. “Paramedics and the police are on the way.”
A Plain Disappearance Page 16
