Cooper repeated the same desperate procedure a foot higher on the pipe and snapped it loose. He tucked the PVC in his belt, took the flashlight out of his mouth, and checked on Gordy. He was still standing on the washer. “J-just got you a s-snorkel, Gordy.”
Gordy appeared to be getting more and more alert. Alive. “T-thanks.”
Cooper frantically hacked off another hunk of PVC for himself, and swam for the washer and dryer. The heavy chain tugged at his leg, but he felt no pain from the shackle. He couldn’t feel his legs.
“F-freezing,” Gordy said through clenched teeth.
Cooper had to do something to keep Gordy from losing more body heat. Anything that might have been on the floor to keep them warm was long gone. He looked up—and stared at the insulation between the overhead joists. Could it work like a blanket? Or more like a wet suit?
His heart rate picked up a notch. That could work. But he’d need something to tie it around their bodies. He scanned the room in the twelve-foot radius he could reach with his chain. No rope. No roll of duct tape conveniently sitting on top of the furnace. Just the double slop-sink, which was completely submerged. A washer. Dryer. Sump pump. Hot water heater.
“God, p-please,” Cooper shouted. “Help me out here!”
Think! Almost immediately, he thought—power cords! Electrical cords on the dryer, washer, and sump pump!
“Okay, okay,” Cooper said. “D-don’t m-move, G-gordy.”
Taking a deep breath, he dove under water, pain instantly knifing his face. He reached behind the machine, found the cord, pulled it tight, and sawed at it as close to the machine as he could. It broke free. He pushed off the bottom to get air.
Treading water was impossible. His legs were too heavy. Cooper bobbed to the bottom once and broke the surface again.
He was slowing—his body was freezing into a solid hunk of ice. Two more cords. Two more. He circled to the dryer and dove again. Twenty seconds later he burst back above the water with a second cord.
By the time he’d cut free the cord from the sump pump, he was sure he was going to die. Almost wanted to. Anything to get away from the cold.
Getting on top of the washer was easy now. He could swim onto it. He slung the cords around his neck and stood, reaching for the insulation.
His arms were so heavy he could hardly keep them above his head. And they didn’t work right. His movements were sloppy. Sluggish. His coordination was going downhill—fast. But Gordy was in worse shape. He’d been in the basement longer.
“C-can you h-hold the light for m-me?” Cooper handed his cousin the flashlight.
Gordy did his best, using both hands to point the light at the ceiling.
Walking along the lids of the washer and dryer, Cooper easily cut free a six-foot section of insulation. “Okay, Gordy. We gotta get this on you—just like a giant diaper.” Cooper slid the insulation between Gordy’s legs and up along his back and stomach, securing it with one of the electrical cords.
Another length of insulation. Cooper wrapped it around Gordy’s waist twice, and used another cord to belt it in place.
Keep going. He felt like he was working in slo-mo. His body wouldn’t move right. He forced himself to focus on each move, each step. He pulled down a strip of insulation, made a slit through the center, and pulled it over Gordy’s head like a poncho, letting the ends drop down his back and chest.
One more. Another length of the pink insulation. He did his best to wrap it around Gordy’s upper body, and secured it with the last electric cord.
“I l-look like t-the M-michelin T-tire Man.” Gordy said.
Cooper hoped it worked. It was the best he could do.
He shined the light toward the electrical panel. It was completely underwater. And they were alive. So their odds of survival were getting better. Now there were only two ways to die. Yippee.
Cooper’s body was numb from the waist down. How long did they have?
“W-what about y-you,” Gordy said. “In-s-slation.”
“N-not enough c-cords to t-tie it with.”
Gordy started pulling at the cord around his waste, trying to tug it free.
“S-stop, Gordy, you n-need that.”
“Sh-share,” Gordy said.
“No t-time,” Cooper said. “B-besides, I-I wouldn’t g-get caught d-dead wearing that.”
Gordy looked at Cooper, his face twisted in a sad smile. “Ha, ha.” “T-test your s-snorkel,” Cooper said.
Gordy worked one end into his mouth and braced it against the overhead floor joist to keep it straight. It reached perfectly to the plywood floor above them. Gordy gave him a weak thumbs up.
Together they rehearsed exactly how they would stay together, and keep their snorkels in place when the water rose over their heads.
Standing on the washer lid, they would be fine. One hand on the snorkel, the other holding the floor joist above them to keep steady. But the lid was slippery. What if Gordy slipped, or his legs buckled and he fell off the edge of the washer? He’d lose his snorkel. He’d die.
Cooper unbuckled his belt, looped the loose end through the electrical cord around Gordy’s waist, and cinched it tight to draw them close before buckling it again.
“Okay,” Cooper said. “W-we’re c-connected.”
Gordy gave a single nod. “W-we sssstick t-together.”
“T-that’s w-what friends d-do.” Cooper hugged him.
Cooper pulled the dive knife out of the sheath and scratched the words TYLER KING—GLOBAL GAMER—KIDNAPPER in six-inch letters across the pink Styrofoam insulating the concrete wall above the washer and dryer. He slid the knife back in its scabbard. Cooper and Gordy would be found—eventually. And when they were, the police would get the kidnapper too. No sense letting King get away with murder.
CHAPTER 78
Hiro’s sense of dread spiked as she rounded the back of the garage. The ground had standing water on it. And the back yard was totally flooded. Hiro couldn’t even see the grass.
She dumped her bike and waded through ankle-deep water. She didn’t care. Her shoes were soaked.
“Foreclosure,” Lunk said. “This place is totally rundown.”
It wasn’t just the overgrown bushes and lawn. It was the whole place. The broken pole light and mailbox missing out front. The chipped paint along the gutters and roof overhangs. The half-dozen notices plastered on the front door.
This place had a creep-factor like none other. It didn’t need a guy handy with a hammer. It needed a bulldozer. An empty house in this bad of shape would probably never get shown. Not once in months.
All of which boiled down to one thing. It would be a perfect house for a kidnapper to use.
Lunk rammed the bat through the garage window, but a piece of plywood on the other side stopped him dead.
He dropped the bat and shook his hands. “I’d need a sledgehammer to get through that.”
“I have a bad feeling about this place,” Hiro said. “We have to check it.”
Lunk was already ahead of her. He kicked at a service door on the backside of the garage. The door absorbed the hit. Backing up, Lunk took a running start, splashing through the flooded yard. At the last second he leaped and plowed into the door with both feet. The door burst open with a bang.
The impact landed Lunk on his side, but he was on his feet with his bat in hand by the time Hiro got to the door.
“Dear God.” She gasped, shining her flashlight into the dark garage. Two cars were parked inside—one of them a compact—freshly wet from the rain. And on the other side of it—a silver minivan. The front license plate reflected the light. CRM 9147.
CHAPTER 79
Cooper couldn’t hear the water rushing in anymore. The basement got quiet as a closet, and felt just as small. They stood on the washer lid, connected by Coop’s belt. The water was at their chins.
“D-did it s-stop?” Gordy’s voice sounded hoarse. Weak.
Cooper shook his head. The water was above the windows now
so they couldn’t hear it rushing in. But it was still coming. Relentless. Greedy. Wanting more.
Cooper had no idea if his handmade survival coat was helping keep Gordy’s body warmer. Gordy was conscious, and in his right mind. That was something. There was nothing they could do now but wait. Cooper’s cheeks hurt from clamping his teeth so tight against the cold. He fought back panic. They were going to drown. Freeze. Not sure which first.
Had he known this would happen? No. But he knew baiting the kidnapper was beyond risky. Hiro would call it crazy—and it was.
But his plan had been to find Gordy and escape together. Cooper got it half-right, anyway. So maybe the plan was only half-crazy.
“C-coop?” Gordy stammered. “I’m s-scared.”
It wouldn’t do Gordy any good to know that panic was clawing its way up Cooper’s throat. “W-we’re okay.” Keep it together. Keep it together. “S-snorkel t-time, cousin.” Cooper handed Gordy one of the PVC tubes. “J-just like we p-practiced. N-nothing t-to it.”
Gordy took the tube and looked at Cooper. “T-thanks, C-coop.” He worked purple lips around the white PVC.
It wasn’t the snorkel Gordy was talking about. Cooper knew that. Tears were filling Cooper’s eyes as fast as Salt Creek was filling the basement. This was it. What do you say to your best friend when you know you’ll never see him again? How could he possibly tell him everything he should? Cooper swallowed down the lump in his throat. You can’t. “Adios, a-amigo.”
Gordy nodded once, his eyes wide.
Cooper inserted the makeshift PVC pipe snorkel into his mouth. Closed his lips around it. Braced it along the joist and raised it up nearly to the ceiling next to Gordy’s. Did his best to hold it there against his violent shaking. He felt stable enough standing on the washer to let go of the joist by his head. He slid his free arm around Gordy’s waist. Pulled him close. He felt Gordy do the same. No matter what happened, they were in this together.
The flashlight slipped from his numb fingers—disappearing immediately beneath the water. Darker now. Way darker. In the dark, things are never what they seem, right? How many times had he read stories about guys in a really dark place—but things turned out amazingly well? There’s always hope. Always. Cooper clung to that thought as tight as he did the PVC in his mouth.
But this was different. It was happening—to him.
He should be praying, right? Begging for his life—or making sure he was ready to die. But it was cold. So cold He felt Gordy grip him tighter. Cooper squeezed back.
Please God.
The water climbed over Cooper’s mouth, nose. He struggled against an urge to scream. He closed his eyes tight. In the dark, things are never what they seem. Sometimes they’re worse.
The icy black water rose over his head.
CHAPTER 80
Hiro yanked the minivan handle. Locked.
“Give me some light,” Lunk said, brushing past her.
Hiro moved up beside him and shone the light through the tinted windows. “See anything?”
Lunk cupped his hands and scanned through the side windows. “Nothing.” He turned and checked the Honda parked beside it. “Clear.”
Hiro already had her phone out, dialed, pushed send.
“Hammer.”
“This is Hiro.” She could barely breath. “We found the minivan.”
“Where.”
“In a garage near Lark Court.” She gave him an approximate address. “Realty sign out front. Mailbox post, but no box.”
“Don’t move. I’m coming.”
She hung up and jumped at a crashing sound. Lunk took out the window of the compact car and reached inside.
“What are you doing?” Hiro shouted.
“Trunk latch.” Lunk grunted, and the trunk popped open. Instantly he was there, leaning in for a closer look in the dim light. “He’s not here.”
Cooper had to be in the house. Hiro shined her flashlight on the door—and the light reflected off a trail of water leading inside. “Tracks!” But were they going in—or out?
“I’m not waiting for the police,” Lunk said. He checked the doorknob. “It’s unlocked.”
Hiro stood so close she could feel Lunk’s body tense.
Lunk took a fresh grip on the bat, and pulled open the door. The room inside was still—and dark. “Give me that light.”
Hiro handed him the flashlight and followed him inside.
Lunk gave the room a fast sweep with the beam. They were in a kitchen. He aimed at the floor. The wet tracks led to a door—with a latch and padlock on it. It had to be the basement.
“They’re down there,” Hiro said. “I know it.” Alarms started going off in her head. The water trail—it was leaving the house. Had to be. The basement is flooding. Fear knifed into her.
Hiro yanked the bat from Lunk’s hand and swung it at the lock. It lurched and jerked, but held strong. She hit it again.
Lunk grabbed the bat and stopped her from whacking it a third time. “You won’t bust it open that way.”
“We have to get down there,” Hiro said.
“Back up,” Lunk said. He raised the bat over his head and came down on the lock like he was splitting a log with an ax. The entire latch and lock clattered to the floor.
Police cars squealed to a stop outside. Flashing lights bounced in through the windows.
Lunk locked the beam of the flashlight on the door, pulled it open—and froze.
Hiro squeezed past him to see.
Water filled the stairwell. Black. Still.
“Cooper!” Hiro screamed. “Coop!” She dropped on her knees on the hallway floor. “Dear God, no!”
The entire basement was flooded. Right up to the top of the stairs.
CHAPTER 81
Lunk made himself as small as possible in the corner of the kitchen. The place was crawling with cops, firemen, and paramedics. He wanted to stay out of the way so nobody would tell him he had to leave. Hiro stood with him, her tiny frame shaking with tremors. Cold? Fear? Spasms of grief? Take your pick.
Hammer directed operations from the kitchen. Coop’s dad stood knee deep on the stairs looking lost.
Lunk knew the feeling. He’d been lost for years. But somehow Coop had changed that. Along with help from Gordy and Hiro. Lunk belonged now. Or at least he had.
But not anymore. If they lost Coop, he’d drift again. If they lost Coop? Lunk was too realistic to believe anybody could survive in that basement.
Hammer pointed at an officer. “Get public works out here. Now. I want this basement pumped out.”
The policeman nodded and disappeared down the hall.
Gordy’s dad stepped in from the garage, his face pale … eyes haunted. Maybe he had to check the van for himself. Hoping Gordy wasn’t in the basement—like everybody in the room knew he was. Probably Cooper, too.
Lunk tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
If Lunk had any idea Coop would have tried something like this he’d have—what would he have done? Stopped him? Gone with him? He’d have done something.
The two dads hugged for a moment on the steps. What would it be like to have a dad who loved like that?
Two firefighters stepped in the room. Lunk recognized one of them.
“Dave Rill,” the fireman said. He pointed to the man behind him. “Mark Hayden.” He stared at the flooded basement. “Rolling Meadows has a dive van here now, but no team. Closest team is Arlington Heights. There’s a call in to their chief already.”
Hammer glanced at his watch, obviously making calculations in his head. The same ones Lunk made. By the time they got here, it would be over. It already was.
Hammer’s jaw clenched. “How fast can they be suited up and in the water?”
“Their regular dive team can’t touch a confined space rescue.” Rill looked at the flooded stairwell. “They’ll need a specialty team of at least three divers—and that may take fifteen minutes to assemble. But once they’re here?” Rill glanced toward Coop’s dad.
“Dry suits. Full gear. Under ten minutes. Easily. One diver down. A rescue diver on the surface to help him if he gets in trouble. And a ninety-percenter ready to go if needed.”
Safety regulations. Three men suited up? Of course, it made sense. It was all about saving lives. But in this case they’d be too late.
Even Hammer had the same opinion. Lunk could read him.
“There’s a chance the Arlington Heights chief won’t authorize the team,” Hayden said. “‘Risk a little to save a little. Risk a lot to save a lot,’ It’s a saying they have.” He looked apologetic. “Unless you’ve heard tapping—or some way to be sure somebody is actually down there—they’ll wait for the pumps.”
In other words, they’d likely assume Cooper was dead—if he was in the basement at all. And they wouldn’t risk a diver unless they were sure Coop was alive to rescue. It wasn’t hard to figure out what Hayden was really saying. The chief would probably treat this as a recovery mission. Pump the basement. Then recover the bodies.
“I’m a certified diver.” Cooper’s dad stepped up. “You said you have gear—here?”
Was he going to go in himself? The desperation on his face was too much.
Rill hesitated. Like he was torn between thinking like a dad and following the official safety procedures.
Hammer nodded.
Rill obviously saw it. “Come with me.”
Decision made, Rill rushed out of the room with Cooper’s dad … and Gordy’s dad right behind them.
Two cops looked at Hammer. By the looks on their faces, they figured Hammer just made a tactical—and maybe even a career error.
Hammer’s jaw clenched. “Mr. MacKinnon has a son in that basement. Any dad in this room can imagine what that must be like.” He looked down the hall like he wanted to be sure they weren’t headed back yet. “We are not going to stand here and make him wait for the dive team. Understood?”
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