by Hunt, Angela
Where are the women? He closes his eyes and tries to recall what the woman said, but all he can remember is the word express.
“I guess—” he looks at Sadie “—we should start climbing stairs.”
1:00 p.m.
CHAPTER 16
Michelle is wondering if there are enough calories in sugarless gum to sustain life when a voice rises from the yawning space beneath them. “Hellooooo! Can anybody hear me?”
Her anxieties dissolve in a wave of relief. She grins at the others as she rises to her knees and crawls to the door. “I think the cavalry has just arrived.”
Gina swipes a hank of sweat-drenched hair from her forehead. “You’re kidding.”
Michelle parts the doors as far as she can, then bends to yell into the dark gap between the threshold and the lower landing. “We’re up here! Are you Eddie Vaughn?”
Laughter, masculine and vibrant, rises from the tunnel below. “Good grief, ladies, couldn’t you get stuck on a lower floor?”
Michelle sits back, not certain how to respond. How can the man joke at a time like this?
“Ignore the wisecrack,” Gina advises. “Just tell him to get up here.”
Michelle leans toward the door and tries to peer downward, but she can see nothing but darkness and concrete. “Where are you?”
“I’m waving a flashlight. Can you see it?”
“No.”
“That’s okay.” His voice seems to come from a mile away. “Which car are you in? Right, left or center?”
Michelle stops to think. She’d been so busy talking to Gus she scarcely noticed which car she entered—
“Center,” Gina supplies, so Michelle shouts out the answer.
“Okay. Do you know what floor you’re near?”
Michelle turns toward the others. “Where did we stop? Wasn’t it twenty-seven?”
Gina nods. “I think so.”
“I think we’re near the twenty-seventh floor,” Michelle yells. She waits, but hears no response. “Did you get that?”
“Oh, yeah.” Even through the disguising echo, she hears resignation in the technician’s voice. “I’ll be up shortly—that’s a lot of stairs.”
She holds her breath until she’s certain he’s moved away, then she grins at Gina and Isabel. “You want to know my happiest moment? I think this may be it.”
Gina exhales and braces herself against the elevator wall. What do you know—Elevator Man has come to the rescue. She didn’t think the mechanic would make it across the bridge, but here he is, cracking jokes and behaving as if this kind of thing happens all the time.
If the man knows his stuff and brought the right tools, maybe they will walk out of here today.
“Listen.” A note of alarm in Michelle’s voice arrests Gina’s attention. “Did you hear that?”
Gina strains to listen, but all she hears is the hooting wind. Isabel catches her eye and shakes her head.
Gina tilts a brow at the brunette. “What did you hear?”
“I could have sworn I heard a dog barking. And I’m—well, I don’t like dogs.”
Gina resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Relax. The wind can play tricks on you, especially when you’re nervous.” She leans against the wall, aware that they still have a long wait ahead of them. “You never told us about your happiest moment.”
“Yes, I did. It’s now.”
“No fair—we’ll all be thrilled to get out of here. So give us a story or we’ll tell Mr. Vaughn you’ve decided to stay overnight.”
“Tyrant,” Michelle says, but there’s no malice in her tone. She moves away from the door and settles back in her corner. “Since I haven’t been married or had a baby—” her eyes take on a guarded look “—I suppose my happiest moment would be the day I hung out my own shingle. I’d been running a personnel agency in West Virginia, but when circumstances changed, I realized West Virginia wasn’t big enough to accommodate all the things I wanted to do. So I moved here, registered my company as a Florida corporation and established Tilson Corporate Careers.”
She shrugs modestly and lowers her gaze, and in that moment Gina catches a glimpse of the girl Michelle had been before life chiseled the last traces of awkwardness, uncertainty and inexperience from her features.
“I’ve been calling my own shots ever since that day,” Michelle says, flattening her palm. Her expression hardens as she eyes her nails with a critical look. “And it’s felt good. Maybe that’s why being stuck in this elevator is so unbelievably frustrating—I’m used to being in control.”
Gina nods. “I can tell.”
Michelle looks up, searches Gina’s eyes, and smiles. “So are you. I’d bet my last dollar on it.”
Gina uncrosses her legs, which have begun to tingle from a lack of circulation. What the brunette doesn’t realize is that today Gina has taken back control of her life. Nothing has worked out the way she planned, but it will.
The day is not yet over.
Shelly groaned and breathed in the scent of pine needles. She had been climbing the old pine tree with Job Smith, but his momma rang the dinner bell so he had to go home. Shelly had been about to leave, too, but on a branch only a few feet away she spied the biggest, fullest pinecone she’d ever seen. Mrs. Rich, their third-grade teacher, had promised they could make bird feeders out of pinecones, peanut butter and seed, but you couldn’t make a decent feeder without a big, puffy cone.
She clung to the papery tree bark and turned so she could sit on the branch. With one hand around the main trunk, she eased her bottom over the branch, reaching for the cone with her right hand. Her arm wasn’t long enough.
She bit her lip and looked around. A spray of new needles jutted from the limb she sat on, so she broke it off at the branch, getting her hand sticky with sap in the process. Holding the fragrant spray like a feather duster, she leaned sideways and flicked at the cone. There! It moved.
She leaned again, her muscles stretching, and swatted at the pinecone. She heard a swish as the needles brushed its surface, then the cone fell…and so did Shelly.
She rolled onto her back and winced as color ran out of the world and pain shot up her right arm. The limb she’d been sitting on loomed high above, its shape wavering in her vision.
“Help!” Her lips formed the word, but her lungs didn’t have enough air to push sound out of her throat.
She gulped, forcing down the sudden lurch of her stomach. What if nobody came looking for her? What if this was one of those nights where Momma didn’t cook and Daddy didn’t come home? She could be layin’ out here all night, freezin’ and waitin’ for a bobcat or bear to come along and gobble her up….
Her face twisted, her eyelids clamped tight to trap the sudden flood of tears, but they streamed from the corners of her eyes and ran into her hair. She didn’t dare make noise, lest she alert some wild thing of her presence.
She didn’t know how long she lay there, but before the sun went down she heard the voice of her daddy. “Shelly Louise!” The call, vibrant and strong, came from the direction of the trailer park. “Shelly Louise, where are you?”
“Daddy!” She sat up, sobbing with gladness, as her arm began to throb again. And even though she was afraid her father would yell at her for wandering off so close to suppertime, she called again, “Here, Daddy!”
But when he saw her and came running, his eyes held nothing but tenderness. “Ouch, baby,” he said, looking at her arm. “You hang on, and I’ll get you fixed right up.”
He unbuttoned his shirt, then wrapped the warm flannel around her arm, binding it close to her chest. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the woods, toward lit windows that glowed like welcoming eyes.
There, nestled between her daddy’s strong arm and his heart, Shelly realized what love was. Love came when you needed help; love was big enough and strong enough to make the hurt go away.
When her daddy died two years later, she wondered if she’d ever find love again.
Eddie pauses on the landing at the fourteenth floor and leans hard on the railing. Sadie turns her head into the beam of the flashlight and looks at him.
“I know,” he says, answering her unspoken question. “I know they’re waiting. But I’m not as young as I used to be and this is a lot of stairs.”
Content with his answer, Sadie sits at his side, then lifts her head to parse the darkness.
Mindful of the battery, Eddie switches the flashlight off. The stairwell, a windowless rectangular tunnel cut through the center of the building, is as dark as pitch. Even though he’s surrounded by tons of concrete, insulation and filler materials, the insistent sough of the wind reaches into this space.
The hurricane is on its way, moving closer every hour, making better time than some of the hapless tourists trapped on the interstates. The machine rooms that control, operate and suspend the Lark Tower’s elevators are located on the roof—probably the most vulnerable area of this aging structure.
Hapless: seven letters, unlucky, unfortunate. Often confused with feckless, eight letters, unwilling or unable to be useful….
For about the twentieth time, he wishes he knew the building better. If the Lark Tower were part of his territory, he’d have access to the utility rooms and a couple of ladders. If he knew the security chief, he could ask about backup generators and maybe get some help.
If wishes were horses…he’d be running a rodeo.
He takes a deep breath, holds it a moment, and switches the flashlight back on. “Come on, Sadie. Only fourteen flights to go.”
He places his foot on the next step and forces his flagging feet to maintain a steady rhythm. Right, left, right, left.
Heather would say he was nuts, of course, but she’d never understood his desire to do his job. She’d talked him out of training to be an emergency medical technician, even accused him of wanting to be an EMT only because he wanted to play the hero. She’d definitely be on his case if she could see him now. But she can’t see him because she’s miles away and married to another man. A figment of Eddie’s past.
Right, left, turn, turn, right, left, right.
Truth is, he’d like nothing better than to do his job in peace, without fanfare of any kind. Yeah, it’s nice when folks notice and appreciate his hard work, but by the time he reaches the typical trapped elevator, the people are either so angry or so panicked that they don’t spare much thought for the guy checking out the controls on the roof.
It’s okay that they don’t appreciate his efforts. Like his ex-wife and his sisters, they don’t understand.
Because they’ve never experienced the agony of too little, too late.
He glances upward, unable to see anything in the darkness above. He doesn’t want to go to the roof today, but he shouldn’t have to. The important thing is freeing the women, not restoring elevator operation. By the time Felix blows over Tampa, he’s pretty sure the Lark Tower’s elevators are going to be among the city’s least pressing problems.
Right, left, turn, turn, fifteenth floor, right, left.
Belinda, his closest sister, has her own opinions about why he enjoys helping others. The last time they were together, she ran her finger down his cheek and made tsking noises as she shook her head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Poor baby,” she said, her voice gentle. “Still risking your neck to save the world?”
“It’s my job, Bel.”
“It’s more than that. I think you risk your neck because—well, you know.”
He caught her hand. “Apparently, I don’t.”
She curled her fingers around his. “Because, little brother, these days you’re afraid to risk your heart.”
Eddie shakes his head as the memory dissipates. Belinda is wrong, of course; he’d give his heart gladly if he could find a woman worth his time. But right now the last thing he wants is a high-maintenance relationship.
Right now, the thing he wants most in the world is to prove himself un-feckless.
Eddie Vaughn’s arrival has quickened Michelle’s pulse; now she struggles to be patient. She taps her fingers on her knees, visualizing the moment of their release like a butterfly fluttering just beyond her fingertips…
Her fingers stop moving as an unfamiliar sound reaches her ear. The air around them has been vibrating with myriad woofs and thuds and creaks, but this sound is different. It’s alive. It’s—
“A dog.” Gina lifts her head from the wall. “You were right, I heard the dog. It’s somewhere nearby.”
Michelle’s childhood phobia lifts its head and snarls. Despite the terror of the last few hours, the thought of facing a dog makes her hands go slick with sweat. “Why would a dog be in the building?”
Isabel presses her hand to her chest and squeals as something thumps against the top of the car.
Gina looks up at the ceiling. “That was either debris falling down the shaft, or—”
“It’s Eddie.” Michelle speaks in a rush of confidence. The technician promised to come and he kept his word; now this amazing man will get them out of this cage. She doesn’t know how he’ll do it, and she doesn’t care.
But why is he on the elevator roof?
Like the others, she stares at the plastic panels overhead as the elevator quivers. Even through the moaning winds, she hears the chink of metal against metal, a heavy clank, the exhalation of a deep breath.
She feels like shouting when a rush of fresh air invades the car.
“Everybody all right in there?” The clear, vibrant sound of Eddie’s voice pebbles her skin while a circular light dances over the plastic panels overhead.
“We’re fine,” Michelle calls, an unexpected catch in her voice. “And thank you for coming. We weren’t sure you’d follow through.”
“Lady, I think you could talk Mahatma Gandhi into joining the NRA.”
Though Michelle searches the ceiling, she can’t see the hero who’s come to rescue them. But she’d bet her last dollar he has a nice face.
Gina grips the side railing as if she’s afraid Eddie’s weight will overload the car. “Do you really think you can manage this by yourself?”
Their unseen rescuer laughs. “I’m not alone. I brought my dog.”
“That’s no comfort at all.” Gina tightens her hold on the rail. “And why are you on the roof?”
“Because the car-top exit is in the rear right corner of the ceiling.” Eddie’s voice is crisp now, and direct. “I need one of you ladies to slide the light panel away. Can you help me with that?”
“I’ll try.” Michelle stretches up on her tiptoes, but she can’t reach the sheets of Plexiglas. “I’m not tall enough.” She crosses her arms and frowns, then looks at Gina. “Did you ever build a pyramid in gym class?”
One corner of the redhead’s mouth dips in a frown. “I was never the athletic type.”
“You don’t have to be athletic. You only have to keep still a few minutes. If you and Isabel will get on your hands and knees, I can step onto your backs and reach that panel.”
The cleaning woman’s forehead knits with puzzlement, but Gina understands—and apparently doesn’t like the idea. “You think I’m going to kneel on this dusty floor?”
“You were sitting on it.”
“Yes, but—”
“Come on, it’ll only take a minute.”
The housekeeper hesitates, then crouches on the floor. “Move a little closer to the wall,” Michelle instructs her. “And, Gina? I really need you to help. My weight is too much for Isabel to handle alone.”
The redhead mutters under her breath, but she moves to the corner and bends, taking her place beside the girl.
“Closer, please.” Michelle bites back her irritation. “You have to be shoulder to shoulder.”
Gina sighs heavily, but moves closer to the cleaning woman. She’s still not close enough, though, so when Isabel looks up, Michelle gives her a move-over gesture.
Eddie’s voice floats down from overhead. “How’s it goi
ng in there?”
“Fine,” Michelle calls. “We’ll have that panel out of the way in a jiffy.”
Isabel sidles toward Gina until the two women’s shoulders are touching. Michelle chews on her lip, then pulls off her sneakers. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”
“What if you break my back?” Gina says, looking over her shoulder. “My bones aren’t as strong as they used to be.”
“I don’t think I can hurt you if I place my weight at the base of your spine. Try not to worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not down here on the floor.”
Michelle blows her bangs from her forehead. “You want to trade places? Just say the word.”
Gina hesitates, then lowers her head. “Just do it already.”
Michelle places one hand flat against the wall, then studies Isabel’s back. She can’t remember the last time she’s even thought about building a pyramid.
“Hurry up,” Gina calls, exasperation in her voice. “This dust is going to make me sneeze.”
Michelle catches her breath, then steps onto Isabel’s back, quickly balancing her weight by placing her other foot on Gina. Isabel grunts and the redhead breathes hard through her nose, but Michelle tries not to think about them as she looks up and reaches for the overhead panel. Almost instantly she is overcome by dizziness, so she returns one hand to the supporting wall and tries to keep her eyes straight ahead while she tugs at the plastic sheet.
“How is this thing attached, Eddie?” she calls, her frustration rising when the panel resists her probing fingertips. “It won’t slide, so how am I supposed to—”
“Push up first, then over,” Eddie answers. “You don’t have to take it down, just push it up a bit so I can grab the edge.”
She reaches for the panel again, feels it above her fingertips, then shoves it upward. The space brightens, and when she lifts her head she finds herself staring into the stubbled face of a man wearing a striped cotton work shirt. Below the words Majestic Elevators and the emblem of a crown, a name is embroidered on the pocket: Eddie.
