No Escape

by Meredith Fletcher

  “Did you find it?” Morganstern sounded impatient.

  “I did.” In disbelief, Lauren watched her performance, split between seeing the video and reliving those moments last night. The residual rush she got from watching those events transpire filled her with excitement.

  Heath sat up, reached for his pants and pulled them on, then padded over to join her.

  “It’s a great bit, kiddo. You remember Ernie Barber?”

  “Yes. He’s a booking agent for some of the magicians.”

  “Yeah, and he’s already called me, wanting to know if I know who Mistress Tereza is. He’s called a lot of people. Getting out there on the grapevine.” Morganstern laughed. “I told him, sure, I know who she is. So he wants to meet. If this video continues to go viral. And Ernie and I both think it will because you pants Gibson in it. There’s a lot of buzz behind this.”

  Lauren looked at the hit counter and couldn’t believe the number she was seeing. “This many people have watched the video?”

  “Yeah, it’s great. Just goes to show you—you can be good all day, but none of it counts until you catch a break. You’ve been good for a while, you just haven’t believed it. Looks like you’re catching your break now.” Morganstern paused. “So when are you coming home? This could be good for you.”

  “I don’t do shows. You know that.”

  “Well, you did one last night, kiddo. I’ve watched it a dozen times this morning after one of the guys texted me about it. It’s a good bit. Not terribly original, not flashy, but there’s a lot of heart in the way you sold the story and that performance.”

  Yeah, that’s because I was trying to get a chance to talk to Gibson, but that didn’t work out well. She’d hoped to at least get an audience with the magician.

  “Too bad you can’t tweak Gibson’s nose again.” Morganstern chuckled. “That would be something to see.”

  The comment got Lauren to thinking, and she was certain Heath wasn’t going to like it at all. “Can I ask a favor?”

  “What?”

  “I need some gear.”

  “What kind of gear?”

  “Straitjacket. Escapology stuff. I’ll send you a list.”

  “We gonna see Mistress Tereza again?”

  Lauren watched the video play through again and saw areas that she could tighten up if she ever did it another time. “Yeah, I think you will.”

  Morganstern hesitated. “There’s one thing, kiddo. The escapology is good, and I know you’ve been working on some stuff, and you’re good with the straitjacket, but it’s dangerous if you don’t have a trained crew around you.”

  “I know. I’ll be careful.”

  “Send me the list. I’ll get it out to you posthaste. I gotta go. I gotta call some more people.” Morganstern hung up.

  Placing the iPad back on the table, Lauren looked up at Heath. He looked worried as he watched the YouTube video.

  “That’s from last night.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw with a big hand.

  “It is.”

  “So what’s going on?”

  “The video is going viral. Warren just told me it’s getting a lot of notice in the magic community. Mostly because Gibson gets shown up in it.”

  He switched his attention to her. “So what’s this equipment you’re asking for?”

  “An escape I’ve been working on. A riff on Houdini.”

  Heath frowned. “What?”

  “Oh, it’s something that’s sure to get Gibson’s attention, but you’re not going to like it at all.”

  * * *

  “I don’t like this.”

  Two days later, Lauren climbed the mainmast of a motorsailer they’d rented for the stunt. The sun was bright and the ocean was relatively calm around them, rolling in gentle swells that lifted and lowered the boat. Festive balloons tied all over the rigging strained at their tethers and made the boat look like a flowering plant.

  Connected through a radio channel, Heath stood on the beach two hundred yards away. He was near his usual observation spot to watch Gibson’s villa. He watched Lauren through binocs and suffered through the churning of his stomach.

  For the past two days, he had helped Lauren get the equipment ready, charter a boat and arrange for a film crew. In between those times, they’d constantly been in bed getting to know each other as lovers. Even now, staring at her in her Mistress Tereza outfit, all he could think about was getting her back into bed.

  Except right now he was also thinking that she could get burned to death in the next few minutes. He really didn’t like what Lauren was planning to do.

  “Don’t watch.” Lauren sounded a little out of breath as she climbed the mast. “And Kadena loves this.”

  Kadena was the videographer Lauren had picked for the shoot. He was a young Jamaican who talked about himself in the third person and totally got on Heath’s nerves. However, he was also a good videographer. Heath had liked his work.

  “Yeah, well, Kadena isn’t going to be swinging from the end of a rope in a straitjacket. He doesn’t get a vote.”

  Lauren laughed. “It’ll be fun. I’ve done this dozens of times. It’s all about timing. I’ve just got to be out of the straitjacket before I run out of air.”

  “I might feel a little better if you’d told me you’d done it thousands of times.”

  “I only have to do it right once today.”

  Lauren sat on the yardarm of the mainmast for a moment. People on the shore and in the boats started snapping pictures. The young Jamaican sailor who had accompanied Lauren to the top of the mast started cinching her up in the straitjacket.

  Feeling more and more uneasy by the minute, Heath swiveled the binocs toward Gibson’s villa. He dialed in the magnification and spotted Gibson out on his veranda, dressed in black, his arms folded and not looking happy at all. Evidently someone had gotten word to him about the escape.

  Shifting the binocs back to the motorsailer, Heath watched as Lauren, wrapped in the straitjacket, walked along the yardarm. Balancing itself was a feat. A bungee line was attached to her right ankle.

  Several people in the boats and on the beach were pointing. They all recognized the straitjacket.

  “Oh, my God! She jumped!” The speaker was female, but Heath didn’t know who it was. He was watching Lauren plummet toward the water. She bounced four times before settling down into a low-hanging arc only a few feet above the sea level.

  The Jamaican sailor who had strapped Lauren into the straitjacket leaned down over the bungee cord with something in his hand. A heartbeat later, flames raced down the length of the cord toward Lauren’s bare legs.

  Heath cursed. She hadn’t told him about this part of the act. “Lauren. Lauren.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Holding the binocs in one hand, Heath sprinted for the motorboat he’d rented for the day. Even with it, he knew he would arrive too late. Then, just as the flames started twisting around Lauren’s legs and black smoke trailed from the bungee cord, the tether that held her to the boat came free and she dropped into the sea.

  Clambering aboard the motorboat, Heath cranked the engine over and accelerated away from the beach. Only then did he realize the ocean around the motorsailer was congested, and he wasn’t going to be able to get through to Lauren. He yelled curses as he tried to bump through the other vessels.

  Long minutes passed as Heath watched helplessly. Then, finally, looking like a drowned cat, Lauren surfaced. She waved to Kadena. A cheer swelled up from the onlookers. Music chugged from the motorsailer’s onboard PA system, a swirling and intense calypso grind infused with heavy metal. Several young people dove into the water and swam toward Lauren as she swam toward the motorsailer.

  Heath relaxed, then grew tense again as police patrol boats arrived with whirling light bars and intermittent blasts of sirens. The other boaters were cheering and screaming in disbelief in a half dozen different languages.

  Before Lauren could reach the motorsailer, a police boat powered up
to her. A man threw out a life preserver and ordered her aboard. Heath cursed. The police were another thing they hadn’t figured into their plan.

  * * *

  “What are you in for?”

  Sitting with her back against the wall and her arms folded, Lauren stared at the bleak walls of the jail cell for a moment before turning to her bench mate and answering. “Setting myself on fire and jumping off a boat in a straitjacket.”

  The older woman sitting at the other end of the bench was heavyset, her head wrapped in colorful scarves. She stared at Lauren for a moment before speaking again, placing a hand over her heart. “It is a man what has done made you do these things, yes?”

  Lauren smiled at that, still caught up in the adrenaline afterglow of pulling off the escape. “More or less.”

  “And you in love, too.” The woman laughed. “I can done see it in your eyes. Girl, you are in a stewpot full of trouble.”

  A female jailer in a neatly ironed uniform stepped to the bars. She smiled a little. “If you ask me, I think what you did was pretty cool, but you done broke the law.”

  “I know.”

  “Someone posted bail for you.” The jailer opened the door. “Come on. Time for you to go.”

  Lauren got up and stepped through the door. She didn’t realize till she was in the hallway how restrained she’d felt in the cell. She also felt bad that Heath had arranged bail for her, though that was nice, too, because now Gibson would probably discover that they were working together.

  The jailer led her to a back room and motioned to a small iron-barred security window where a gnarled man sat in a police uniform. Lauren hadn’t had many personal effects when she’d gone into the water, only her driver’s license. The man on the other side of the window had her sign for it, then slid it across in a manila envelope.

  “Thank you.”

  The man nodded and pointed to the computer on his desk. The screen was turned so Lauren could see it. “That boy that shot your escape did a good job. Good thing, too, because you better not do that again in this city.”

  “I know.”

  The man shook his head and smiled. “Saw you at the Agony House, too. Quite the show, quite the show.”

  “Thank you.” Lauren followed the jailer to the back of the building and ended up stepping through the door she was shown and out on the street where she and Heath had taken Sisco captive days ago. The sun was already going down. She’d been questioned and processed and kept waiting for hours. She’d begun to think that she would be spending the night in jail. She checked both sides of the street.

  Heath Sawyer wasn’t there waiting for her.

  Roylston was. He was dressed in a nice suit and wore wraparound sunglasses. “Mistress Tereza?” He looked at the phone in his massive hand. “Or should I say Ms. Lauren Cooper?”

  Feeling a little frightened, Lauren focused on the man. The luxury car she had seen him driving Gibson around in sat at the curb. Another man in a suit, one she didn’t know, stood beside the vehicle.

  “Whichever suits.”

  Roylston smiled, and there was nothing pleasant or welcoming about the expression. “Gibson would like to meet you. If you’re interested.”

  For only a heartbeat, Lauren hesitated. The plan was to entice Gibson with another video of Mistress Tereza, then meet him at their convenience. Not be swept away. She looked around the street again but didn’t see Heath anywhere. She thought of Megan and how more proof was needed to name Gibson as her murderer.

  No way was Lauren going to let Gibson walk on that.

  No way.

  She nodded. “Sure. I’ve been wanting to meet him. I wanted to tell him that night at Agony House, but he disappeared before I knew it.”

  “Gibson is like that.”

  “Maybe you could pick me up at my hotel in half an hour?” Lauren pulled at the outfit. “I smell like I took a bath in the ocean. I’d like a chance to clean up.”

  “Gibson is quite insistent about meeting you now. Don’t worry about how you’re dressed. There is a selection of clothing at the villa. Gibson often entertains guests. I’m sure you’ll find something to wear.”

  Lauren still hesitated.

  Roylston’s smile faded a little. “I’m afraid the offer will expire. Gibson’s time is very valuable.”

  Taking a breath, Lauren nodded. “All right. Let’s go.” As she approached the car, Roylston opened the rear door. When she got inside, the big man slid in beside her and closed the door.

  The other man got in behind the wheel, put the car in gear and rolled into traffic.

  Lauren craned her head over her shoulder and looked back at the street, still not seeing Heath.

  “Expecting someone?” Roylston sat calmly beside her.

  Turning back around, Lauren faced forward. “I thought maybe the media would be around.”

  “They’re in front of the building. Gibson talked to someone in the police department and all parties concerned agreed that it would probably be best if you quietly disappeared.”

  Lauren didn’t think the choice of words was by chance, and a shiver passed through her. She clamped down on the fear that prickled within her, trusting that Gibson wouldn’t just spirit her away from the jail and kill her. Even he couldn’t pull that off.

  Chapter 20

  Seated in a café across from the jail, Heath looked at the bail bondsman he’d recruited to get Lauren Cooper out of jail. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

  Denroy Paul was an earnest young man who hadn’t quite escaped the laid-back attitude of the island. He was six feet tall and slim, his hair done in dreadlocks, and he had a very white smile that he liked to use a lot. He wore slacks and sandals and a white short-sleeved shirt.

  “Just that, mon. I go there looking for this woman. I ask about her like I always do.” Denroy shrugged. “Then the jailer, she tell me Lauren Cooper already be gone, mon. Someone else bailed her out.” He grinned. “Must be you not the only one interested.” He nodded. “I seen them videos, mon. Very good-looking woman.”

  Heath curbed the angry retort that landed at the tip of his tongue. “Did you find out who paid her bail?”

  “Gibson. The mon who is the magician. You know him?”

  “Not as well as I’d like to. How long ago did Gibson post her bail?”

  Holding his forefinger and thumb an inch apart, Denroy shook his head. “Missed her by that much, mon.”

  Heath got up from the table. “I owe you anything?”

  Denroy opened his hands. “Not me, mon. I didn’t do nothing for you.”

  “Thanks.” Heath hustled for the door, almost running by the time he got there.

  * * *

  Twenty-three minutes later, certain he’d violated every traffic law in Kingston, Heath pulled to a stop at his observation point on the beach up the road from Gibson’s villa. A sand cloud ghosted gray around him, and campfires carved holes in the darkness that had settled over the beach. His heart ached when he thought of Lauren in Gibson’s power.

  During the whole drive, he couldn’t help remembering Janet Hutchins and how he hadn’t been there in time to save her from Gibson. That guilt had nearly eaten Heath alive over the past couple weeks. But he knew that he hadn’t let Janet down. She hadn’t had time to call for help when Gibson had gotten to her. She’d been gone before Heath had known.

  He adjusted the binocs and swept the house. The luxury car’s headlights dimmed in the circular driveway, then the dome light flared on. Heath’s breath caught at the back of his throat as he watched Lauren step out of the car and walk up the steps leading to the house.

  * * *

  Standing at the window, fingers pulling the drapes slightly aside, Gibson stared down at his latest prey. She wore the same outfit she’d worn when she’d accosted the tour in the Agony House, only now she looked somewhat tawdry and bedraggled. She was still beautiful. There was no taking that away from her. Natural beauty always shone through.

  His hunger to kill
coiled like a dark thing at the back of his mind. He felt it sitting there, waiting to consume his senses when the time came. This time the hunger felt different, more alive and vital than it had before. It felt stronger, so much like it had felt the night he had killed the woman detective.

  Only this felt much more pleasurable. The anticipation was almost sexual, and the desire turned physical.

  She had offended him. She had seized the limelight that was supposed to have been his at the Agony House. The tour had been his to direct that night, and she had derailed his efforts.

  And now, today...

  He turned from the window and glared at the large computer screen on the inlaid desk that anchored his private sanctorum. The YouTube video of Mistress Tereza was frozen at the point that the woman was entering the ocean while flames clung to her legs.

  The flames were an illusion, though. Gibson knew she had protected her flesh, and the fire only burned the fumes of the chemicals. There was heat, yes, but no scorching. Escaping the straitjacket while in the water was impressive, though. Gibson had never wanted to do something like that too much, though he’d done some of it in his early career. Escapology was too much physical labor. He preferred illusions, making an audience think they knew what they were seeing.

  That was what made him great. That perception that others had of him.

  The room was a trophy chamber of his successes. Framed pictures of performances and his meetings with celebrities filled the walls. This was his world now, not his father’s. He had gone much further than his father had ever believed he would in his career, and Gibson reveled in that knowledge, even though his father would never acknowledge his success. Knowing that there was so much of it to ignore made that success even sweeter.

  At the computer, he brought up the closed circuit television system he had hidden throughout the house. He watched as the woman entered the villa on Roylston’s heels.

  Gibson stood in the dark and awaited his call to tonight’s performance. The hunger coiled and uncoiled inside him.

  * * *

  Desperate, Heath threw himself from his car and went around to the trunk. He wore the .357 on his hip in a holster, but he’d stored the 9mm he’d captured from the woman in his hotel room in the trunk. Since then, he’d also gotten extra magazines and a shoulder holster from the kid who had sold him the revolver.