by Saul, Jonas
The pencil crayon wasn’t in her hand anymore. She looked around but it was gone.
What’s that smell? What could they have been cooking to cause it to reek so bad?
The two boxes she had opened remained that way. She could see no sign of paper anywhere. Perhaps she didn’t write anything this time. Although that would be unusual as she did pass out with a writing tool in her hand and the only time that happens is when there’s a message coming through.
The smell in the attic was becoming unbearable.
Someone pounded down the steps below yelling something. It sounded like he said that they were set, and everyone out.
But why leave when they were cooking?
It didn’t matter. If they were leaving, she could too. She moved with stealth to sit right over top the wooden access to the attic. The burning smell was stronger here.
What was that? They didn’t set the house on fire, did they?
In the odd way she lay across a beam in the floor she had a sidelong view of the four boxes. One of the ones that she’d opened had something on the side of it. Because she’d moved away, she edged closer again. Sure enough, it was as she’d suspected. The writing was in red pencil crayon. Why hadn’t she thought of looking at the boxes instead of in them or for some kind of paper that wasn’t there?
The words chilled her even though they were a mystery.
…hide when wet…kill to save a life…
What the hell did that mean? Hide when she was wet? When was she going to be wet? And of course she would kill to save a life, but kill who and save who?
As a rule she answered these precognitions to save lives. When she first started on this path it gave her power and a sense of worth that her childhood hadn’t offered. She felt empowered with the knowledge of the future. The fact that she wielded the ability to change the future and save lives thrust her into these ventures. So killing was out of the question.
But she would do it to save lives. Always to save lives.
The smell caused her to clench her throat. She almost coughed involuntarily. One last look at the message and she scurried back to the wooden access door.
This was it. She had to open the attic door. For whatever reason, the attic was filling with smoke.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the wood. Being vigilant to do this quietly, Sarah lifted the wood and peeked out. The room was empty directly below her, but it also had smoke in it.
The mind plays tricks in times of stress. If the house was on fire down below, she most certainly was in trouble. The implication of her receiving another message earlier meant she would live through this, unless the kill to save a life part had something to do with her dying? No, she refused to believe that. She would live through this.
On the edge of the square attic door frame, she placed both hands, palm down. She ducked her head down first and brought her hips to her hands in an inverted roll. Then, she dropped her butt through the hole and her legs followed as she unrolled herself into a hanging position. With only three feet left, she let go of the frame and dropped to the floor in the room.
Instantly she knelt down to her knees to get below the smoke. In the hall outside the room was more smoke.
The house was on fire. There was no question about it now. Sarah moved to the open door and looked out. She saw no sign of anyone on this floor. Blackened smoke was rising from the stairwell area.
With a quick about-face, she hustled to the window in the bedroom to look out. One black SUV was pulling away. It hit the road at the end of the driveway and turned right where it raced off.
Another SUV still sat in front of the house but she couldn’t see anyone. A cough escaped her and then another as the room filled with smoke. She could even hear the flames licking at something downstairs.
The window had a small latch halfway up. She undid the latch and opened it. As fast as smoke filtered out, fresh air was close enough to get a few gulps. She closed her eyes and breathed in to fill her lungs.
Closing her eyes almost got her killed. The window shattered above her. At the sound she jumped back so fast she lost her balance and landed hard on her ass in the center of the room.
What happened was easy to figure out. She heard angered voices from below. The remaining SUV driver and passenger must have walked out toward their vehicle to leave and either heard or seen her at the window.
Sarah crept closer to the sill and listened.
“She’s in the house!”
“I know, but we can’t go back in. It’s too late now. Leave it; she’ll die in the fire.”
“Or maybe I hit her when I shot at the window. She did jump back like she was hit.”
Sarah muffled a cough with her sleeve. Fear can play an active role in decision making. It was telling her to haul ass, but she resisted, wanting to hear as much as she could.
“I’m waiting until the house collapses. What if we aren’t here and she walks away from this?”
“She won’t walk away. I’m going to be in the car. I’ll call in and tell them we found the girl and that she’s going to burn in the house. I’ll wait for you there.”
That was all Sarah needed.
She got up and rushed from the room. In the bathroom she found a couple of towels draped over the shower curtain. She turned on the shower head and ran them under the water. She was surprised and happy that the water was still running.
The note said something about hide when wet, so maybe this was it. Leaving the water running, she wrapped one of the towels around her shoulders and the other she laid atop her head. Cool water dripped onto her ears. In a moments reprieve from the rising heat she felt a stir of hope.
The bathroom was an enclosed space and rapidly filling with smoke. She could almost feel the heat rising through her shoes. She ran away from the stairs where fire was licking up the handrail and back into the room with the open window.
Without exposing herself, she leaned in close and sucked at the fresh air, coughed a little and sucked some more.
The guy with the gun outside was singing. She heard him say, “The roof, the roof, the roof, is on fire, we don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn!”
She was out of time.
A nagging feeling of panic struck and wouldn’t let go. The house shifted a little. She felt it move and with it her will to survive surged. Being on the second floor of a burning house was crazy. She had to do something.
There was no time left. Hide when wet was the message. She was wet and hiding. Kill to save a life was the other message. She’d love to kill the singing bastard downstairs but how? How could she get down there and not get killed in the process?
The air coming in from the window was so sweet she didn’t want to leave it. Allowing herself one long inhale, Sarah got up, left the room and ran to the top of the stairs. It was the only way down.
But it was too late.
The stairs, bannister and entire bottom was completely engulfed in fire. As she watched, a towel wrapped across the front of her mouth and nose, the bottom of the stairs collapsed. Now the heat was unbearable. She needed to move back.
There was nowhere to go.
She had no way out.
Interpreting the message correctly, she had hidden when wet but there was no one to kill.
Trapped in a burning house that was starting to fall apart from under her, smoke rising to cut off her oxygen, Sarah screamed at the futility of it all.
She screamed at the injustice. But most of all, she was yelling because she didn’t want to die this way, to be accidentally caught and killed by the scum downstairs.
Then the floor under the bathroom and the room under the attic collapsed with a huge bang and an enormous amount of smoke.
It would only be a matter of minutes before the hallway she was in would fall too.
Sarah prayed and wept.
Chapter 28
Parkman could feel the anger on his tongue. He could taste it. The car door stuck as he attempted to get o
ut in a hurry. He fumbled with the handle, got it open and almost fell out.
“Shit!” he yelled and spit the vile taste of ire to the ground.
He’d squealed into the mall parking lot with his sirens blaring, and now everyone seemed to be staring at him.
The place was sealed off as a crime scene in two areas. One for Sam’s car and one for the SUV that had been checked out and found to not have any explosives on it. He could see bomb disposal packing up, crime scene detectives working the scene and FBI agents standing around in suits talking. About fifty pedestrians stood at different spots behind the police tape gawking at the live edition of CSI.
He spotted Special Agent Jill Hanover immediately as she was waving at him. The anger he was feeling was justified he kept telling himself. Someone had to be held accountable for these kinds of mistakes. And he was out of toothpicks at the moment.
“Parkman, good to see you could come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he answered as he walked up.
“Do I detect a hint of something you’d be advised to not have in your voice?”
He stared at her, giving no response. She took that as her cue to go on.
“We have Caleb and Amelia, but they won’t talk to us.”
“I wonder why?”
Jill handed the papers she held to a colleague beside her and rushed Parkman, coming up nose to nose with him.
“I don’t like this any more than you do. I didn’t ask to be kept out of the loop. Sam did this on his own. Now, I’ve asked you to come back on the team because the Roberts aren’t talking to us. We need your help. If you don’t want to help, then fuck off!”
She leaned back and crossed her arms.
Parkman turned around to leave. A hand grabbed his shoulder and swung him back.
“Where’re you going?”
“To talk to the Roberts. Isn’t that why you asked me to be here?” He tried so hard, but he couldn’t keep the distaste for Jill off his face. He knew she couldn’t just see it, she could feel it too.
Sam could’ve been killed here today. The Roberts were freed on an exchange with a good cop and no one knew anything about it. Even the mighty FBI were clueless.
This case was fucked from the beginning. Parkman could’ve helped from the start if he’d not been treated like their personal yo-yo with a badge.
He turned away from Jill and walked down a line of FBI standard issue vehicles. At the end of the line, in a Suburban, sat Caleb and Amelia Roberts. Parkman showed his ID and stepped in.
“Parkman, they drag you out to talk to us?” Caleb asked.
“How are you two doing? I can imagine how tough this has been.”
Caleb looked at his wife and then back to Parkman. “We’re okay, but concerned. I remember something like this playing out four years ago. That time we almost didn’t get our daughter back. What guarantees do we have this time?”
“Unfortunately, none. But I assure you I will do everything I can to fix this.”
“I see we have the same FBI team working on this just like last time. They weren’t effective then, what’s different now?”
Six bottles of water were stacked neatly in a holder by the door. Parkman gestured and after Caleb nodded he grabbed one.
“The only thing different is me. I will work this. Sam will work this. You know that Sam was the only one who was the closest to helping Sarah last time. He’s on the inside now.”
Caleb frowned and leaned back in the leather seat. “Parkman, what guarantees do we have?”
Parkman dropped his head and looked at the floor. Then he glanced at Amelia. She was staring outside at the commotion happening beyond them at the burned out vehicle. She appeared to not be listening, but Parkman knew better.
“Caleb, there are no guarantees except that Sam and I will do everything we can to get Sarah home safe. She’s our top priority.”
“No one can help Sarah, Parkman, you know her. She’s resourceful. She’ll get herself out before anyone else will be able to. She doesn’t trust cops so I don’t see how you lot can help.”
“She trusts Sam.”
“You’ve read the profiles of criminals like these. You know the probability of Sam walking away from this is nil. I’m sorry to say it but unless a miracle happens, no one is coming home safe. They have Esmerelda, Dolan, Sarah and now Sam. We were told that if we help the police in any way, Sarah would be the first to die.”
“Is that why you won’t talk to Jill or her team?”
Caleb nodded. “Sarah walked into this, as far as I understand. She gets those messages from her dead sister. It has always bothered us, but she’s twenty-two and we can’t stop her. If her sister walked her into this, then her sister will get her out. I know there are no guarantees. That’s why I ask for them. Since no one can provide one, I’ll put my money on Sarah working this out on her own.”
“You have a lot of faith in the dead. I’m sorry if I come across as crass, but if someone from the Other Side is helping her, then why not just tell us what’s happening and we’ll arrest the criminals?”
“It doesn’t work like that for Sarah and you know it. It’s personal for her. It always has been. Remember where she gets her messages. From a blood relative who was brutally raped and murdered twenty years ago. She’s gotta be pretty pissed off about that. It seems to me that Vivian gets to live through Sarah, and Sarah welcomes it.”
Parkman was still holding the bottle of water. He uncapped it and took a swig. “Is there anything you can tell me?”
“They blindfolded us each way. The ride was direct, not too many turns. It lasted at least an hour. That’s all I know. We were held in little rooms until they came and blindfolded us again and brought us here. That’s it.”
“Can you tell me anything else?”
“We’ve said all we can.”
Parkman wondered if there was more. He looked at Amelia and then back to Caleb. “I imagine you’ll be in custody until this thing blows over?”
“According to Jill, yes, that is the case.”
“Okay, I’ll stay in touch.”
They nodded and Parkman left the Suburban.
He walked directly for his car. He could hear Jill hollering behind him.
“Wait up!”
He got to his car and turned around. She was twenty feet behind him.
“What did they say?” Jill asked.
“Nothing. They’re sworn to secrecy or Sarah dies.”
He felt Jill’s eyes on him, appraising whether he was telling her the truth.
“I gotta go,” Parkman said and opened his door.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“To figure this thing out. To find Sarah and Sam.”
“Not without us you aren’t.”
“Watch me.”
Parkman dropped into his vehicle and squealed out of the parking lot knowing he was probably leaving his job behind.
One last glimpse at Jill and he could see she was already talking into her lapel microphone, probably telling someone to tail him.
He broke the speed limit and circled around for thirty minutes to make sure he had no tail and then hit the highway in search of some kind of compound an hour’s drive away.
Chapter 29
Sarah rushed into the master bedroom and closed the door behind her in a feeble attempt to keep the smoke out.
This was it. She had to get out or die in the fire.
The window opened easily. What little smoke had made it into this room before she shut the door billowed out as she sucked at the air from the outside. After a couple of deep breaths, she held the last one and turned around to scan the bedroom. There was a bed, two end tables and a small desk. Nothing here could be of any help. She opened the closet and surveyed the clothes.
Something banged in the house somewhere and it made her jump. She looked over at the door. It had started to buckle a little and smoke was forcing itself under it.
On the shelf above the hangers she spied
a men’s leather belt. It would have to do. Maybe if she secured it to the window somehow, its few feet would be enough for her to jump without breaking an ankle or a leg; because now it was jump from the second story window or stay inside and burn.
Dizziness threatened to overcome her as she felt lightheaded by the smoke she had already inhaled. The cough was back, but only briefly assailed her before, belt in hand, she returned to the window breathing fresh air.
She looked down at the ground and what she saw made her want to smack herself for forgetting.
