“Your sister. Her speech . . . the book she wrote.” He gasped between each word. Planning all this, putting the bomb in place had probably taxed the last of his energy. That and the cancer eating him alive. “I sat on the catwalk and listened. People were mesmerized by her words.” He leaned against the wall. “I’m dying. I can’t make a difference after I’m gone. I’m the last one of us in our fight for truth and freedom from lies the government perpetuates so they can control us. But Emily needs to live to get the word out.” He dragged in a breath and coughed.
“The word out. What are you talking about? What lies?” Her heart twisted in a thousand knots at his complete paranoia.
“To explain it all, I wrote a letter to the New York Times. They should receive it tomorrow. Tell her to read that and she’ll understand why she needs to look deeper into history and find the truth. I know she’ll see it for herself. Then she can write about it and more people will hear.”
Emily didn’t see history the way Uncle Jerry did or deny that the Holocaust happened. Emily wasn’t an extremist either. But Harper wouldn’t waste her breath. He wouldn’t listen. No. Because he wasn’t done talking.
“I know she was meant to carry on the fight for truth in history. It’s in her DNA, after all. So I have to let her live. After listening to her speech, I now have peace in knowing that I made the right choices. That Emily will continue my cause, whether she knows it now or not.”
Waves of nausea rolled through Harper at his words. The man actually believed he was doing the right thing. She could tell by his labored breathing that he would die soon whether or not the bomb took him. She thought about Emily’s acceptance speech and how it had affected Uncle Jerry. He missed one thing.
“Emily talked about second chances, Uncle Jerry. You can have that second chance.”
“To do what? It’s too late.”
How did a person get to the place in life where they believed they didn’t deserve a second chance? Harper had lived in that place for far too long. She would forgive herself for her mistakes. For letting Daddy down.
But she couldn’t wait for Uncle Jerry to have his come-to-Jesus moment, if he ever did. She tried to heft James up onto her shoulder. He moaned. Was he waking up? Was there enough time left for them to get out?
“It’s odd,” Uncle Jerry continued. “There’s a kind of euphoria knowing that I’m going out with a bomb. I’ll leave behind a legacy.”
“A legacy of death and destruction.” Maybe she could take him out, and then what? The bomb was still counting down. “Help me. Please stop the bomb. I’m not ready to die. Are you?”
“I’m ready, yes. And on my own terms. But even if I wanted to, I can’t stop the bomb. No one can.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Heath found a door to a stairwell and ran down the steps.
“Harper!” He rushed through a heavy curtain and found a big, spacious room. A small red light caught his attention.
Counting down.
18 seconds.
The oxygen was sucked from him. “Harper, where are you?”
Fear gutted him.
Liam would be absolutely furious with him if he got himself killed. He’d be furious with himself if he let anything happen to Harper. Wasn’t this how it all worked out though?
Didn’t it always end this way? He’d brought her there. Him. He was responsible. And this time, he would lose the woman he loved even if he found her in the next few seconds, because there wasn’t time to get out of the building.
He found him then.
Jerry. The man stared at Heath, his eyes glazed.
“Where is she? What did you do with her?” Heath demanded.
“This way.” Uncle Jerry started walking.
“Wait. Where are we going? Why should I trust you?”
“You have ten seconds to decide.” Jerry kept walking.
“Harper!” Heath called as he followed her uncle. This was nuts.
God, help me. Should I be following this killer?
But he had no idea where to search for Harper. Was she even still in the building?
Jerry took him down a tunnel, then pointed at a blast door. “She’s in there.”
He pounded on the door. “Opening up!” Without waiting for a response, he shoved a lever upward, then pulled the door open.
Harper gasped when she saw Heath and pulled him inside.
“Lock it now!” Jerry shouted as he shut them all in.
Wait!” Heath should open the door and pull Jerry in with them, but it was too late.
A thunderous rumble resounded. He pulled Harper down to sit on the ground and wrapped his arms around her. Oh, Lord, please let us survive.
She pressed her face into his shoulder. The structure felt as if it moved a few centimeters. Harper’s fingernails cut into him.
If the shelter didn’t protect them against the shock wave, they were all dead anyway. Their survival depended on what size bomb Jerry had built and if the shelter had been built to withstand it.
But there was something else.
The incendiary effect. How long could they reasonably stay in there?
Would it outlast a prolonged fire that would suck up all the oxygen? He hoped adequate ventilation had been installed.
After a few seconds, the rumbling died down.
Harper flicked on a flashlight. A wide-eyed James sat on a beanbag in the corner holding a flashlight too, a purple lump on his head. Seeing James there surprised Heath.
“Emily should already be safe. She took Dawson out.” Harper spoke as if to reassure herself as much as James.
“You’re right,” Heath said. “She told me you were still inside, so I came to find you. And that’s when I ran into your uncle.”
“He was the one who set off the fire alarm. He couldn’t stop the bomb. But he could save me. Save us”—she looked at James, then back to Heath—“and now you. After the building was destroyed the last time, the architects put in a bomb shelter when it was rebuilt. Uncle Jerry said it was the only way to survive.”
“Your uncle couldn’t have survived the bomb blast.”
“No. He wanted to die in the bomb instead of from cancer. But he had one last redemptive act, Heath.”
As though that could repair all the damage. The lives he took in the past and more recently. But if that’s what Harper needed to believe, he would give her that.
After a few seconds, he relaxed, if only a little.
“Do you think it’s over?” she asked. “Is it safe to go out now?”
He released her and stood on shaky legs. “I think it’s over. I hope it’s over. But if we open that door, it could be dangerous. The place could be up in flames.”
“He told me that he didn’t have enough time or money to gather the incendiary materials. I think because he was dying and because we were closing in on him. Weird to think he was disappointed about that.”
James cleared his throat. “But there could be secondary fires.”
Heath agreed. “We could have a window of opportunity to get out of here before the building crashes completely down on us, if it’s not already too late. But maybe we should wait for emergency response teams.”
“No,” Harper said. “They won’t even know that we survived unless they know about this blast shelter, and even then, they could take too long. I’m for opening the door.”
“I’m with her,” James said. “I need to make sure Dawson is all right. I don’t want him to think I’m gone. He already lost his mother.”
Heath unlatched the blast door and shoved. It wouldn’t budge.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
We have to keep trying.” Harper paced the small space that seemed to grow smaller by the second. This was just great. They were trapped. It was hot and stuffy.
I have to get out of here.
Heath and James grunted, pushing, shoving with their brute strength against the door. At least James had recovered enough to help.
Harper wanted to help, but there wasn’
t room. “I don’t think they’re supposed to be that hard to open.”
“Unless something on the other side is preventing it.” James gave up. “Isn’t there another way out? Another exit in here?”
She didn’t see one. “Why did they build it this way so that the door opens out? That seems like a bad idea.”
“The hinges,” Heath said. “The blast could blow the door inward, otherwise.”
Heath continued his efforts. The blast door gave an inch. Dust rushed in. A crack. It was something. He put his face up close to the space and looked out. “No fire. Let’s keep working on this door. Maybe someone can squeeze out and go for help.”
Harper took James’s place and shoved against the door. “We can yell for help too.”
“We’re too far down,” James said. “They’re never going to hear us down here. We have to get out before more of the building collapses. It makes sense to put the shelter deeper in the basement, but then living through a bomb means also having to survive the rubble as you get out.”
Sweat dripped down her back and beaded across her brow and upper lip. The door moved another few inches. “Only a little more and I can fit through. I can go for help.”
Heath gasped for breath. “I don’t know. You could get hurt. It could be dangerous. The building is unstable.”
“What did you think was going to happen when we opened the door? It’s our only chance.” James’s voice gave away his desperation. “What’s the matter with you?”
And he was right. No good options were available.
“Maybe I can move what’s blocking the door,” she said. “Don’t worry, Heath. I have to do this. You know I do.”
Heath and James gave it another push and she squeezed through, ignoring the flitting image of the door slamming and crushing her. On the other side, she sucked in a breath.
“Okay, I’m out.” As if they didn’t know. She flicked on the flashlight and stayed near the blast shelter that was all but buried.
Sparks and a buzz drew her attention up to where the entire left side of the ceiling had collapsed. The flashlight revealed much. Jumbled rebar dangled. Concrete, drywall, and steel—it was all twisted together. Pure rubble.
They were on the bottom floor.
Any hope she had quickly fled. Thick emotion filled her throat. So what if the blast shelter had safeguarded them? They would never get out.
No. She couldn’t think like that.
She wouldn’t let go of hope, no matter how small.
We’re going to get out of here.
She turned her attention to a chunk of concrete blocking the blast door. How had they opened the door at all? Moving that would take muscles. The kind she didn’t have. But maybe she could use leverage. She searched for something—anything. A rumble shuddered through the building. Dust trickled.
She tried not to think about the tons of building materials pressing in on them.
“What’s going on, Harper?” Heath’s voice sounded muffled.
Disheartened, she didn’t want to answer him. She glanced up at the ceiling and the beams barely hanging. The electrical wires. Lines sparking.
“I’m trying to move concrete out of the way. I need leverage. Hold on.”
A severed steel rod would work. She propped it under a piece of concrete that was shaped like the state of Florida wedged against the blast door.
She thrust the rod under Florida, then leaned on it. Nothing. Put her full body weight on it. Nothing.
God, have you really brought me through all this only to die here and now?
She tried again.
The Florida Panhandle broke away.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist and called out to Heath, “Okay, try the door now.”
The men groaned inside as they pushed on the blast door. It budged, but not much. That rumble again.
“Guys!” She peered inside. “Squeeze out. The ceiling isn’t going to last. It’s now or never.”
“Just one more push,” Heath said. “James can’t make it through this.”
“Okay, let me see if I can move more of Florida.”
“What?”
She ignored his question and worked her magic lever again. It was no use.
“Heath, it’s not going to work. Please come out so you can do it.”
Heath squeezed out, then turned toward the opening and spoke to James. “Come on, you can do it.”
James tried, but his thickset form wouldn’t let him through.
Heath looked at Florida. “Let me try.”
He took the steel rod and pressed down. Groaned and shoved. The chunk of debris fell away from the blast door. Along with the ceiling on the far side of the building. Dust filled the air, choking them. More chunks began falling. They were running out of time.
Heath pulled the blast door all the way open and reached inside to yank James forward. “Come on!”
Flashlights lighting the way, they scrambled over chunks of concrete and obliterated building materials. Their progress was much too slow to outrun the massive cave-in. Harper wasn’t sure where they were going as they pressed forward. Heath pulled her into a partially intact stairwell. James was on their heels. He shoved the dented door that hung from one hinge into what remained of the doorframe.
“How—”
The crashing ceiling cut off her words. She pressed her face into Heath’s chest.
Was this the end? Was she going to die in his arms?
Dust billowed into the stairwell. Harper coughed, along with Heath and James. The ceiling had collapsed inward like a bowl, leaving the stairwell undisturbed. Good. This was good, wasn’t it?
He released her and peered upward. Though the stairwell hadn’t crumbled with the rest of the building, the stairs no longer looked like stairs but instead were a mass of twisted metal that was torn apart near the next floor.
“That?” James asked. “You want us to go up that?”
“That’s our only way out, man.”
“It will probably come down on our heads.”
“It might. We’ll climb one stair at a time.” Heath glanced at James. “Harper is going first. You can go next, my friend.”
Harper didn’t like this. She didn’t want to leave either of them behind, but she wouldn’t save Heath by wasting time arguing with him. Her only choice was to climb carefully and quickly up what was left of the stairs.
Heath helped her gain purchase. When she gripped the rail and placed her knees on that first clump of steel, she looked down at him.
“Don’t worry.” He winked. “I plan to make it out alive tonight too. Now go. Make it out and find your sister.”
Was this the last time she’d see him?
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
The building shuddered again. Heart pounding, she gripped the next step and crawled forward. The walls had crumbled and bent in places, so she couldn’t stand up. Instead, she had to keep crawling like she was in the ever-shrinking tunnel of an underground cavern. She didn’t dare look down or she might lose her nerve.
“You’re doing great, Harper.” Heath’s words echoed through the stairwell. If only he could have made this climb along with her.
Just a little farther and then she should be at ground level. That didn’t mean she could get out. She risked a glance down and couldn’t even see Heath or James. Harper slid beneath splintered drywall to continue on the path, only to find the stairs didn’t go all the way.
They had torn away from the wall and what might have been a door.
Her flashlight flickered and went out.
Oh no. Her heart tumbled.
Above her, voices sounded. And through an opening in the wall, light. Hope surged.
Could she make the jump from her perch on the twisted metal stairs to the railing next to the wall? She sucked in a few breaths, then propelled herself forward. She grabbed the rail, but her palms were moist and she started to slip.
“Help!”
Strong arms reached toward her. “I got y
ou.” Hands gripped hers and pulled her through the opening. People cheered as a man lifted her to her feet.
She sucked in a breath as she wiped sweat and grime from her eyes. “There are two men down there. Heath and James.”
“Harper!” Emily cried out from across the street where onlookers watched.
The man who had pulled her from the building handed her off to another guy—a firefighter? He urged her away from the building toward a waiting ambulance.
“No, I’m staying. I have to wait for Heath!” He has to make it out. “Will you please let my sister over? James was her date tonight. He’s down there too. He should be coming out.”
Her bones ached. Her limbs screamed. And her heart pounded. Come on, come on . . .
Emily ran across the street and hugged her. She cried in her arms. “I thought I’d lost you. I never would have left you behind if—”
“It’s okay. You had Dawson. Where is he?”
“A policewoman is watching him for me. He’s sitting in the car with her. But what happened? How could you survive?”
Harper’s mind felt like it would collapse in on itself before this was over. “Uncle Jerry saved me. Showed me to a blast shelter. After the last bomb, the owners had insisted on building a safe room in case of a terror attack. The problem was that we were almost trapped in there.”
A man assisted James from the building, drawing Harper and Emily’s attention. The crowd cheered.
James bent over his thighs to catch his breath and pointed at the building. “He’s still down there.” James shook his head. “The stairs collapsed, so I don’t know how he can get out.”
“What?” Harper grabbed his collar and shook him. “And you left him down there?”
“There was nothing I could do. I didn’t see him behind me when it collapsed. I just had to crawl out as fast as I could.”
Emily pulled Harper to her and hugged her. “It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not. It’s not going to be okay.” Harper sobbed into Emily’s beautiful sequined dress.
All because of Uncle Jerry. But Emily’s speech had somehow turned him. He’d saved the people he’d initially planned to kill. He’d saved Harper and James and . . .
Always Look Twice Page 29
