Time Trap

by Danele J Rotharmel

  “Director Matthews, I don’t think you realize who is in charge. You’re never going to leave this room. I am going to kill you.” Drake paused and whispered in soft, measured tones, “But Dr. Nelson doesn’t have to die.”

  Laura heard Peter’s breath catch.

  “You care about her, don’t you, Director? In fact, I believe you love her.” Drake began to leer. “I can understand why. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Lovely Laura with the shimmering red hair.” He quirked a brow. “Is her hair as soft as it looks?”

  “Don’t you touch her!” Peter shouted. “I’ll kill you if you do! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”

  Drake chuckled. “Big words coming from a man chained to the wall.” His eyes burned. “I can do whatever I want to Laura. I can make her wish she’d never been born. And when I’m through, I can kill her slowly.” His voice lowered. “Or I can set her free unharmed. What I do depends on how cooperative you are.”

  Peter’s face turned gray.

  Drake tilted his head to one side. “I did ghastly things to Phoebe before I killed her. Horrible things. But there were other things I could’ve done. Worse things.” Shadows of insanity gathered on his face. “If you don’t give me the code, I’ll do those things to lovely Laura, and you can have the pleasure of watching.”

  Sweat stood out on Peter’s brow. He began pulling against his cuffs.

  “Sit still, Peter,” Laura commanded. “And keep quiet. You know we can’t let him get his hands on a Wave Trapper.”

  Drake chuckled and advanced toward her. Taking a wary step back, Laura planted her feet.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Recognizing the turnoff to the forest, Nicole asked, “Are we headed back to Andrew Hamilton’s estate?”

  Zeke nodded. “I’m taking you to a patch of woods by his lake house. Yesterday, we went for a hike—today, we’re working.”

  She raised a brow. “What kind of work are we doing?”

  “Curious, are you?”

  “Shouldn’t I be? So far today I’ve shopped, vacuumed, oiled hinges, played softball—”

  “I get your point.” Zeke laughed, turning onto a dirt road and threading his car through trees. “But I’m not giving any hints.”

  Nicole expressively rolled her eyes. “Spoilsport.”

  Zeke gave her a cheeky wink. Pulling into a clearing, he asked, “Ready for lunch?”

  “Are we eating at the lake house?”

  He shook his head and pointed. “Andrew’s house is over that ridge, and it’s swarming with agents. We’re having a cookout instead. Are you hungry?”

  “Famished,” she replied. Stretching a bit, she yawned. “I can’t believe it’s only one. I feel like we’ve put in a full day already.”

  “That’s because you usually sleep your mornings away,” he teased.

  She made a face. “I happen to keep late hours. If I didn’t sleep in, I’d be a zombie.”

  “We can’t have that.” He laughed, tapping his noggin. “I want to keep my brain. After all, it’s my most attractive feature after my nose.”

  “You’re a bit of a goofball, aren’t you?”

  “Just figuring that out?” Zeke smiled and opened her car door. “You were excellent help this morning. We finished quicker than I expected.”

  “Thought I’d be a slowpoke?” she asked.

  “Something like that.”

  Nicole tossed her jacket at him. Catching it with one hand, he opened the trunk.

  “Can I give you a hand?” she asked as he packed supplies into a wheelbarrow.

  “No, I have it covered.” His eyes twinkled. “Besides, I have some surprises in here.”

  She drummed her fingers against the hood. “Surprises for me, or are you hiding another stash of women up your sleeve?”

  “Jealous, are you?”

  “Only curious. I can’t be jealous over a man I’ve just met.”

  Zeke didn’t respond in words. He simply tapped his eyebrow.

  Blushing, she asked, “Does my eyebrow really twitch when I lie?”

  Zeke chuckled and said in his Irish brogue, “Is de bonny lass finally admittin’ she’s been lyin’? Tis a marvel ter behold, fer sure!”

  “I’m not admitting anything,” Nicole said sternly, tracing her eyebrow with a fingertip. “I’m just wondering if you can really tell when I’m fibbing.”

  Zeke’s chuckle turned into a belly laugh. “Contradictin’ yerself, yer are! As far as yer tattlin’ eyebrow, oi canny be tellin’ all me secrets, nigh can oi?” He pushed his wheelbarrow onto a path. “Cume on, lass, let’s go fer a walk.”

  After walking half a mile, they came to another clearing—this one smaller than the first. The sound of rushing water and a symphony of bird song filled the air.

  “What a beautiful place.” Nicole breathed, readjusting her ponytail.

  “It sure is,” Zeke said, pushing the wheelbarrow next to a ring of blackened stones. “It also happens to be the perfect place to show off my Native American fire-making skills.”

  “Oh?” She grinned. “Just what does a Cherokee use to make flames? A lighter?”

  “Don’t be insulting,” he said, arranging wood and tinder. “That’d be too easy.”

  She squatted on her heels next to him. “What do you use then? Sticks rubbed together?”

  Flexing his fingers dramatically, he reached into his pocket.

  “You have flint, don’t you?” she exclaimed, scooting closer. “I’ve always wanted to see how flint works.”

  Zeke’s lips twitched as he pulled out a book of matches. “No flint,” he grunted in a corny imitation of a 1930’s B-movie Indian. “Big warrior use magic twigs. Little squaw impressed?”

  Putting her hand squarely on his chest, Nicole pushed him over.

  Sprawled on the ground with leaves tangled in his hair, he laughed. “Little squaw heap too feisty. Must respect big warrior.”

  “Big warrior full of much bologna,” she replied. Pointing at the matches, she said, “Get to work, big warrior. Little squaw hungry!”

  Chuckling, Zeke started the fire. When it was snapping cheerfully, they roasted hot dogs over the flames. After lunch, Zeke took a bag of marshmallows from the wheelbarrow. “Care to make s’mores?” he asked.

  Nicole grinned. “It may be silly, but I’ve always wanted to try one. Are they hard to make?”

  “That depends on how patient you are,” he replied. “The key to a delicious s’more is a golden brown marshmallow. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

  After her tutorial, Nicole carefully positioned her marshmallow over the fire. Her forehead wrinkled in concentration as she tried to brown it without setting it ablaze. Just when she thought her marshmallow was perfect, it sagged and fell into the flames. She looked at the bubbling mess in dismay. Immediately, Zeke took his golden marshmallow from his stick and made it into a s’more for her.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, biting into the exceptional treat with pleasure.

  “Yes, I did,” he replied. “Love shows itself in the little things.”

  She blinked. “There’s that ‘L-word’ again. How many times are you going to use it?”

  “Until you stop doubting that I mean it.” Smiling, he wiped a spot of chocolate from her chin. “And then I’ll start using it just to remind you it’s true.”

  “It’s too early to talk about love,” she said sternly.

  “Maybe so, but there it is.” He handed her another marshmallow. “Try again, you’ll get it right this time.”

  “And when I do,” she said, “I’m going to make you a s’more with double chocolate.”

  “If you do, I’ll make you one with double marshmallow to show my gratitude.”

  This set up a new game, and soon they were feeding each other overstuffed s’mores and getting incredibly sticky in the processes.

  Several s’mores later, when Nicole thought she was going to burst at the seams, Zeke disappeared with the tea jar in the direc
tion of the river. He wouldn’t let her come along. He said he didn’t want to ruin her surprise.

  When he got back, she asked hopefully, “Now do we take a nap?”

  “Nope.” He laughed, handing her a pair of work gloves. “Now we start logging.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Hey, you wanted to know what put calluses on my hands. You don’t suppose I got them playing softball, do you? Andy wants to turn this area into a wheelchair accessible location for his sister. We’re hoping to have it ready by the Fourth of July so Jess can have a holiday picnic.”

  “That’s why the paths are so smooth? For wheelchair access?”

  He nodded. “We’re almost done. We just have to widen the picnic area and make a path to the river. Andy could have the work hired out, but it’ll mean more to Jess if she knows he worked on it himself.”

  “And you’re helping.”

  “That’s what you do for friends. Andy has a heavy schedule. He can’t do it all on his own.”

  “Well,” she said briskly, pulling on her gloves, “let’s get to work.”

  “We won’t cut any big trees today—just some saplings,” he said, handing her a saw. “I don’t want to risk an accident.”

  “That’s a relief,” she said. “I’m not really the Lumberjack-Jane type.”

  “That’s debatable.” He chuckled, picking up an ax. “I bet you’d look fetching in plaid.”

  Soon they had a working rhythm established. After about an hour of work, Nicole brushed sweat from her eyes and asked, “What are you going to do with all this wood?”

  “The tarps by the car are covering good fireplace logs,” he replied. “This winter, Andy and I will deliver free wood to people who need it.”

  “Both of you?”

  “Well,” Zeke admitted, “mostly me. It’s hard for Andy to go traipsing around with his current security concerns, but he’ll deliver as much as he can.”

  “Why haven’t I heard about this project in the news?” she asked. “Reporters should be swarming all over this type of human-interest story—especially since it concerns the VP.”

  “Andy doesn’t go looking for publicity,” Zeke replied, swinging the ax. “He never planned on getting caught up in politics, and he hates being the focus of the public eye. He does things for God, not for glory. He’s a good guy.”

  “He sounds like it.” Nicole looked at the growing pile of branches at her feet. “What should I do with these?”

  “In a week or so, I’ll grind them up with a wood chipper, but for now, just pile them with the others on the east side of the clearing.”

  Nodding, she began gathering branches. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Zeke tugging off his shirt. After taking the branches to the pile, she stood at a distance and watched him chop wood. It was a glorious sight. The muscles in his back rippled in a way that delighted her. She’d definitely guessed right about his physique—his arms were exceptionally brawny.

  “No sketchpad this time?” Zeke called.

  Nicole blushed hotly. She couldn’t believe that she’d been caught staring again. Although how he knew she’d been gawking when his back was turned was beyond her comprehension.

  Seeming to read her mind, Zeke grinned over his shoulder. “You’re an expressive person, Nicole. Even your silences are eloquent.”

  “Is that a polite way of saying that when I shut up, you know I’m staring?”

  “Nope, it’s a polite way of saying that I don’t mind in the least.” His smile deepened. “Why do you think I took off my shirt? I had to give you something to think about other than my ghastly honker.”

  Her eyes widened. “Well, it worked.” She laughed. “I haven’t thought about your nose since I saw your shoulders.”

  “Why don’t you stand on the other side of me for a while? My pecs are pretty good too.”

  “You’re awful!” she said, giggling so much that she had to hug a tree for support.

  “True.” He grinned. “But at least you know what you’re getting into.”

  * * *

  Alex was reading Silver Leaves to Phoebe when a knock came at the door.

  Popping her head in, Katie said, “Your father’s in the hall, and he’d like to speak with you.”

  “Dad’s here?” Alex asked in a startled voice. He turned to Phoebe. “Is it okay if I leave for a moment? I promise I won’t go far.”

  “Of course it’s okay,” she replied.

  Alex looked at her in concern. She was so tiny and fragile. Her chair seemed to swallow her whole. He hesitated.

  “Go on,” Phoebe urged. “I’m all right.”

  “You’re more than just all right,” he murmured, running his finger down her cheek. “You’re absolutely wonderful.” Giving her a tender smile, he left the room and closed the door.

  His father rushed forward, engulfing him in a tight embrace. “Are you okay?”

  A lump rose in Alex’s throat. He felt as if he’d been battling a powerful foe and a ceasefire had suddenly been called. Wordlessly, he nodded against his father’s shoulder.

  “Tell me everything,” his father said softly.

  “Dad, I don’t even know where to start.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Laura stood her ground as Drake sprang toward her. When he got closer, she kicked his stomach. He fell back, clutching his ribs. She saw his surprise as she followed up her attack with a roundhouse kick. She’d been hoping to kick his jaw, but her kick was too low. Even though it didn’t land where she’d hoped, her kick pummeled him against the wall and knocked the wind out of him.

  “Great job, Laura!” Peter shouted. “Keep it up!”

  Laura resumed her stance, holding her fists up to protect her face.

  “A fighter?” Drake growled, turning to one side and spitting. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

  Suddenly, he rushed forward. Laura slipped quickly to the side, pivoting out of his reach. When he stumbled past her, she kicked the back of his knee. He fell, swearing wildly. While he was down, she tried to kick his head, but he spun around and threw her into the wall. Her head hit the cement with brutal force.

  For a moment, everything slowed down.

  Feeling dazed, Laura crumpled to the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Drake sprinting toward her.

  “Get up!” Peter yelled. “Hurry!”

  Forcing her body to move, Laura stumbled to her feet. Drake reached her before she’d taken two steps. Grabbing the front of her shirt, he slammed her body against the wall. The back of her skull smacked the cement. She saw a bright flash of light and felt a rush of pain. The room began to spin. Nausea rose up in rolling waves—she choked it down.

  Drake laughed. “Not so superior now, are you?”

  Laura struggled against him, but he pinned her to the wall with his hands around her throat. Trying desperately to breathe, Laura clawed at his wrists. Chuckling, he tightened his grip.

  Black pinpricks began dancing in front of her eyes. She knew she had to break the chokehold before she passed out. Gasping for air, she tugged on Drake’s arms. They felt like bands of iron. She didn’t know what to do.

  “Pray, Laura! Pray!” Peter shouted frantically. “Remember your training!”

  Immediately, she folded her hands like she was praying and brought them up between Drake’s arms. Reaching forward, she grabbed the back of his head and dug her thumbs into his eyes. Drake swore. She dug deeper, gouging with her nails. Drake swore again and spit in her face. Straightening her arms, she pushed his head back. She felt the fingers around her throat loosening. Swiftly, she rushed forward, hitting Drake’s nose with her skull. A crimson flood gushed down his chin. Letting her go, he stumbled back, swearing at the top of his lungs. With lightning speed, she booted him in the groin and ran back to the center of the room.

  Peter whooped. “Perfect!”

  “You little viper!” Drake snarled, wiping blood away with his sleeve.

  Laura felt fear shivering
inside her. Rage was flaming in Drake’s eyes. She’d never seen anyone so angry. Hissing threats, he advanced toward her, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

  When he got closer, she tried to land another roundhouse kick, but he grabbed her ankle and threw her to the floor. She huddled on her side as he leaned over her and laughed. The naked insanity in his face was terrifying.

  Forcing herself to act, she flipped onto her back and kicked his knees. Drake crashed to the floor, writhing in pain. Laura rolled swiftly to her feet. Trying to catch her breath, she ran to the center of the room. Dimly, she registered the sounds of Peter’s cheers in the background.

  Drake stood slowly. Anger was billowing off him in waves. Laura felt a rush of icy panic. She tried to shake it off.

  “Keep focused!” Peter shouted. “You’re doing great!”

  Laura and Drake circled each other. The lower half of Drake’s face was a mask of mottled blood. His eyes were burning freakishly in their sockets. Knowing she had to make a move, Laura leapt into a spinning hook kick that connected with Drake’s jaw and sent him to his knees. Before she could spring away, Drake tackled her legs. She slammed to the floor. The wind was knocked from her lungs. Splintering pain filled her chest as she tried to breathe.

  “Laura!” Peter cried.

  She knew she was in trouble. The room filled with the sound of her ragged gasps. Her whole world condensed into a moment filled with terrifying pain. Just as she managed to take a single shivering breath, Drake jumped on top of her, straddling her body with his.

  “No!” Peter yelled in a voice full of agony. “Leave her alone!”

  Sneering at Peter, Drake punched her face. The sharp sound of the blow echoed through the room. Pain screamed through every cell of her body. Blood filled her mouth.

  “Give me the code, Director,” Drake growled, slamming his fist into her stomach.

  Choking and gagging, Laura bit back a whimper and tried to grab Drake’s hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Peter struggling against his cuffs. His face was tortured.

  “Give me the code, Director.”

  Pain coursed through Laura’s jaw as Drake hit her again. Through a red haze, she heard Peter shouting. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. Peter’s voice was ragged—she knew he was straining to get free. She blinked against a rush of darkness, forcing herself to remain conscious.