by Julie Miller
Four deaths. Mark. Alvin. Zeke. Amy. Four X’s.
As her mind swirled into blackness, Ginny realized that she was the fifth X.
GINNY BLINKED her eyes open, but saw nothing. Fighting through the cotton stuffing in her head, she opened her eyes again. This time she saw a faint light and reached for it. Her fingers butted against cold metal and she woke to the next level of consciousness. Her flashlight. The batteries had run down and the power was fading.
She rolled over, then cried out at the sharp pain at the base of her skull. The throbbing headache that followed woke her enough to feel the dead weight of her left arm. Maybe the building had collapsed on top of her and she was trapped beneath a pile of bricks.
She tugged on her arm and a white-hot bolt of pain shot through her wrist. “Broken?” She picked up the flashlight and aimed its sickly beam at her left side. She followed the dusty blue length of her sleeve up to her wrist.
A panicked jump cleared her mind completely. She’d been handcuffed. Her left arm dangled above her, connected by her own handcuffs to the iron ring bolted into the wall.
Ignoring the jagged shards of pain radiating through her head, she sat up. A bell jingled and she looked down. A stainless-steel chime had been tied around her neck.
With what was left of her light she quickly scanned her surroundings. Buried alive in the subbasement of the Ludlow Arms was every dark nightmare she’d ever feared come to life.
Ginny breathed deeply, keeping the mind-numbing panic at bay. Someone would come looking for her, right? But she hadn’t told Merle or Maggie or anyone else at the precinct where she was headed. Not on this unsanctioned mission to find Amy’s killer. She’d been obsessed with finding out the truth. So obsessed, she walked right into Sophie’s trap.
How long would it take for anyone to find her?
No one had found Alvin Bishop for twelve years.
Her heart fluttered at her mistake.
The darkness crowded in, attacking her from all sides with its cold, clammy talons. She hated being scared like this.
You’re not mad at me. The memory of Brett’s voice, darker than the shadows around her, nagged at her subconscious. You’re scared.
“Of course, I’m scared! Damn you, Taylor. You can’t just leave things alone.” Her anger brimmed inside her. “You always have to be right. You always have to…”
She stopped talking, stopped berating the man who wasn’t there to defend himself. She started cheering the message he’d been trying to share. It was okay to be scared. It was smart to be scared right now. It was smarter to get angry.
And Ginny Rafferty was a smart woman.
Brett would come looking for her. He said he’d pick her up at seven o’clock for that damned ball that neither one of them wanted to go to. And if she wasn’t at her apartment at seven… Ginny took control of her breathing. She listened to the thumping in her chest slow to a steadier beat.
If nothing else, Brett’s ego would send him looking for her. She doubted he would tolerate being stood up. He’d go storming through the neighborhood to find her and make her live up to her promise.
Thank God for old-fashioned Neanderthals.
But she intended to meet him halfway.
If she could find her way out of this hellhole.
Ginny concentrated on thinking like a detective, and reassessed her situation. She’d been here for several hours. The tingling paralysis of her left arm and the bricked-up wall behind her proved that.
No gun. Little light. Limited oxygen. No broken bones. And, despite the goose egg on her scalp, no brain cells were damaged. She nearly smiled at the memory of Brett telling her she did too much thinking. She’d show him.
With supreme effort, Ginny shut down the last of her doubts and fears and concentrated on thinking her way out of this deathtrap. She had vowed long ago that she would use every skill she possessed to bring her sister’s killer to justice.
Being buried alive was no reason to give up now.
Ginny curled her legs under her and pushed to her feet. The brickwork the hook was anchored to was a hundred years old. She jiggled the bolt and ring, and knocked loose a few bits of ancient plaster. “That’s what I want to see.”
She braced her right foot against the wall and grabbed the cuffs with both hands. Pain shot up her left arm as feeling returned. She tugged on the ring. A chunk of mortar broke and the bolt slipped a fraction of an inch. With that minor success she pushed with her foot and pulled with all her might.
When the masonry started to give, she jerked even harder. The Ludlow’s mortar surrendered, shattered into bits. Ginny flew back, hitting the newly built wall behind her. With the mortar still wet, the bricks bowed out. She sat a moment to catch her breath and admire her new bracelet with the ring-and-bolt charms.
Then she turned her attention to the sagging bricks. Putting all one hundred and ten pounds of herself behind it, she turned her shoulder into the wall and shoved. It collapsed and she tumbled with the falling bricks into the dirt.
She was bruised and battered and breathing hard. But she was victorious. She crawled to her feet. “Yes!”
Her shout echoed among the groans and shrieks of the cavernous beast above her. The settling of the building rattled the closed trapdoor. The escape ladder had been removed, but she didn’t panic.
Ginny yanked the bell from around her neck and crushed it beneath her shoe in the dirt, stilling its harsh sound. She knew a secret to survival that Alvin had not.
Her killer would come back to see if she was really dead.
Sophie would come looking for her, but so would Brett.
Sinking back into the shadows, Ginny waited to see who would find her first.
BRETT DROVE his truck up onto the curb at Union Station and slammed it into Park. He pushed past the startled valet and strode through the spinning glass door, oblivious of the ticket taker who tried to chase him down, deaf to the friendly greetings shouted his way.
He stopped in the center of the Olympian-sized concourse and looked to the left, then to the right, scanning the crowd for a particular familiar face. He didn’t bother looking for Ginny. She wouldn’t be there.
He’d pounded on her apartment door until seven-fifteen, hopefully ignoring Dennis Fitzgerald’s claim that she hadn’t been home all day. He’d called the precinct office. She hadn’t checked in since early that morning. Her partner had gone for the day. The shifts had changed and no one there had heard a thing. He called his brother Gideon at the hospital, on the off chance she had stopped by to visit Sid. No luck there, either.
Brett didn’t waste another moment. He had connections. He’d pull in every favor he owed, he’d go into debt to get answers this time. “Mitch!”
His voice boomed in the cavernous expanse of the historic train station that had been remodeled into a science center, a theater and several restaurants. Normally, he would have taken time to appreciate the workmanship that went into such a task.
But he had a mission. He had somebody counting on him.
Even if she didn’t know it yet.
He hurried over to the cousin who was nearly a mirror image of himself. “Mitch, I need some back-up.”
Mitch separated himself from the group of bigwigs he’d been chatting with, and guided Brett a few steps away, affording them some privacy. “What’s going on? Where’s Ginny?”
Brett’s shoulders lifted and sank with a frustrated sigh. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
His brother Mac appeared at Brett’s elbow, looking as uncomfortable in his tux as Brett felt in his. “Is there a problem?”
“I can’t find Ginny. No one’s seen or heard from her all day.”
Baby brother Josh cast his shadow over the group. “She’s a cop. Maybe she got a break on a case.”
That was exactly what scared Brett.
Mitch pulled his cell phone from inside his dinner jacket. “I’ll call the precinct.”
“I tried that already. Nobody’s seen
her. Couldn’t get a hold of Merle Banning, either.”
“I’ll call, anyway.”
Brett raked his fingers through his hair, shaking it free of his starched white collar while Mitch turned away. He scanned the crowd again. “You guys see Sophie? I can’t make nice with these people tonight. I’ve got to tell her I’m leaving.”
Josh checked out the people milling about them. “She said hi when I came in, but that was what, twenty, thirty minutes ago?”
Brett latched onto that little piece of information. “Was Eric Chamberlain with her?”
“Nope. She was holding court all on her own.”
Mac nodded across the room. “He’s over there, talking to Mayor Benjamin.”
Brett followed his gaze. No Sophie. Hadn’t Eric given the impression that he was Sophie’s champion? Or maybe trained watchdog was a better description. Brett crossed the room and interrupted the conversation.
“Where’s Sophie?”
Eric excused himself from the mayor and graced Brett with an indulgent expression that grated along the rim of every cell in his body. “She had business to attend to. Don’t worry. You’ll get your moment in the spotlight.”
“Want me to deck him for you?” Josh made a tempting offer.
Brett appreciated the support, but declined the idea. “What kind of business? This is her big show tonight.”
“She’s not your concern, Taylor.”
Josh bounced on the balls of his feet. “Oh please, just one little punch.”
Brett’s own fingers curled into a fist. “Where did she go?”
Eric sized up the wall of Taylors—Brett, flanked by Mac and Josh—and re-thought his tactics. “Sophie went home. She said she forgot something, and went to get it. She’ll be back soon.”
Mitch completed the wall when he rejoined them. The stiff set of his jaw caught his full attention, and Eric Chamberlain became a useless party decoration.
“What?” Brett asked.
“Merle says he hasn’t seen Gin since she left this morning with a sketch of those blueprints.”
“The Ludlow Arms blueprints?”
Sophie went home.
Brett’s lungs constricted in his chest. Eric’s words had to be a coincidence.
“Anything you want to tell me?” Mitch pushed for an answer. Clearly, his instincts had picked up on Brett’s suspicions.
But Brett was already backing toward the door, asking those favors, making demands as he lengthened his stride. “I need you to put out an APB, or whatever it is you call it—”
“You think Ginny’s in danger?”
Mitch, Mac and Josh fell into step beside him by the time he hit the row of glass doors and the front sidewalk. “Sophie’s gone after Ginny.”
“Whoa, Brett. That’s a serious accusation.”
“Motive. Means. Opportunity. Those are the big three the cops have to prove, right?”
“Yeah?”
Brett counted the proof off on his fingers as his hurried stride turned into a jog toward his truck. “Motive. Abusive father. Mark’s not around to protect her anymore.”
Josh swung up into the bed of Brett’s truck. “Are you talking about old man Bishop’s murder?”
“Means. She grew up at the Ludlow and knows every crook and cranny there. How else do you hide from Alvin?”
Mac climbed into the truck cab. “She killed her own father?”
“Opportunity.” Brett swallowed hard on this one, before turning the key in the ignition. “She’s off disposing of her brother’s girlfriend. But Dad’s already lost his temper and taken it out on Mark. She comes home and finds Mark dead. So she gets Dad drunk—”
Mac caught on to the story. “Lures him down to the subbasement—”
“—and buries him alive.”
Mitch, the voice of reason and authority, closed the door behind him and asked, “Can you prove that?”
“No.” Brett’s silence revealed everything he feared. “But I’ll bet Ginny can.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ginny’s visitor arrived shortly after the batteries in her flashlight went dead. The terrors of the pitch-black darkness had tried to sneak into her mind, but thoughts of Brett kept them at bay. The darkness was the chocolate on his tongue when he kissed her. It was the silky length of his hair curling against his collar.
The darkness was his voice, whispering loving little praises to her in the middle of the night.
She twisted the ring on the third finger of her left hand.
With Brett’s help, she could do this.
With Brett as her partner, she could do anything.
A shower of dirt hit her in the face as footsteps fell on the floor above her. She backed against the farthest brick wall to avoid detection by any light from above. She breathed silently as the ladder was lowered through the trapdoor.
Rescue? Or death?
Of all things, the red silk pumps descending the ladder surprised her. But she held her breath until Sophie touched the dirt floor. When Sophie swung her flashlight around to the broken wall, Ginny leaped from the shadows and wrapped the handcuffs around her neck.
With her knee in the back of Sophie’s sequined red gown, she jerked back on the cuffs, choking the air from the woman’s throat.
“Why the hell did you kill my sister?” Ginny’s grip tightened like a tourniquet as the anger poured strength into her arms. “Why did you kill Amy?”
But Sophie was the daughter of Alvin Bishop. She’d survived growing up in the Ludlow Arms.
With a vicious twist of her elbow, she caught Ginny in the gut, loosening her hold. Those perfect, painted nails scratched gashes in her weak wrist. Losing her advantage, Ginny planted her feet and charged, knocking them both to the floor. The flashlight careened out of Sophie’s hands. Ginny picked up a brick. Tangled in her slim-fitting gown, Sophie could only roll, dodging the attack. Ginny scrambled after her, raised the brick again.
“Drop it!”
She froze as Sophie sat up and pointed Ginny’s own 9 mm sidearm at her.
Tossing the brick aside, Ginny stood. Both women were breathing hard, neither woman blinked. She waited until Sophie motioned her toward the ladder with the gun before she spoke.
“This isn’t your usual style, is it, Soph? You prefer your victims to be unconscious before you dispose of them, don’t you?”
“You’re the one who insists on doing things the hard way. Now climb.”
“Gonna push me down the stairs, too?” Ginny toyed with the idea of kicking the gun from Sophie’s hand, but Sophie timed her climb just right, too slow to be within reach, too quick to be left behind on the ladder.
The basement stairs came next. “Was my sister really such a threat to you?”
Sophie jabbed the gun into Ginny’s back and forced her to climb. “She was going to take Mark away from us. He told me they were going to elope. He was going to leave me behind. I met her at the City Market and told her Mark had changed their plans, to meet him by the river. A rock was all I needed to get rid of her.”
Bile churned in Ginny’s stomach, threatening to choke her. “You helped Alvin get rid of all the women in Mark’s life, didn’t you?”
“Shut up and walk.” Sophie guided her to the hidden servant stairs. As they made new tracks in the dust, Ginny swallowed the bitter taste. “Why did you take her silver bracelet?”
“To prove to Daddy that I killed her. To make him happy. To keep him from hurting me anymore.”
Ginny stepped across a missing stair and glanced over her shoulder to see if Sophie could make the same move in that ridiculous dress. By the time they’d reached the third floor, she’d hatched an idea. Time to disrupt Sophie’s concentration.
“But Daddy had already taken his anger out on Mark, hadn’t he. When you brought that bracelet back, Mark was already dying.”
“Shut up!” The shrill warning curved Ginny’s lips into a satisfied smile. “I loved Mark. I tried to help him. I called the ambulance.”
Sophie’s long heel poked through the thin wood on the landing and she stumbled. Ginny turned, but the gun held steady. The cool sophistication that had taken Sophie to the top of her profession was marred by a contorted grimace of anger. “Keep moving. All the way to the roof.”
“It was too late then, wasn’t it.” Ginny tested a weak riser. The wood shattered and fell into the abyss below them. Swallowing back her fear, she skipped the step and moved on. “Is that when you devised your plan? You took American lit in high school, I’ll bet. You were probably a big fan of Edgar Allan Poe.”
Sophie hiked her skirt to avoid the broken stair, but kept the gun trained on Ginny. “I poured him his usual Irish coffee and told him your sister was hiding out in the subbasement. He was too drunk to figure out what was really going on. After the ambulance took Mark away, I went to the library to study.”
“Did you really love your brother?” Ginny taunted. “Or did you just use him the way you use everybody else around you.”
“Yes, dammit! I loved him. He was all I had in the world. He took care of me. He kept me safe. I didn’t want him to die.”
When the angry tears started to flow, Ginny kicked out. The gun fired and flew from Sophie’s hand. Ginny lunged and the two women rolled and crashed down a flight of stairs. Boards cracked and fell away. The last two steps smashed into bits and disappeared. Dazed by the fall, Sophie tried to stand, but her heel slipped and she fell through the gap.
Ginny snagged the sleeve of her gown and held on. Sophie swung back and forth like a pendulum, each to-and-fro motion working with gravity to pull Ginny inches closer to the chasm below. She hooked her toes over the edge of the landing and anchored herself in place.
But an unmistakable chain of events had been set into motion. A support beam fell and crashed at Ginny’s feet. As the floor slowly buckled beneath the extra weight, the walls of the stairwell creeped in. The Ludlow was caving in on itself, crushing its awful secrets floor by floor.
“Help me.” Sophie snatched at Ginny’s wrist, hooking her fingers through the locked handcuff. If Sophie fell, Ginny would plunge down with her. The bitch had killed her sister. She wouldn’t let Sophie take her life, too.
