her door and staggered out of the car. She ran toward the old, neglected building. It was all boarded up—except for the broken windows on the second floor.
She glanced back at Allen as he crawled out of the car. He held a hand over the wound on the side of his face. Blood seeped through his fingers. He could hardly stand up straight.
“Goddamn it!” he bellowed. “You’re going to die in there, Susan! You and that bitch are going to die in there!”
Susan turned toward the darkened warehouse and ran.
Leo felt the car take a turn. Then the road changed. For the last five or ten minutes, the ride had been relatively smooth. But they were driving over gravel now.
He had a feeling they were back at Jordan’s cabin. He also had a feeling—a terrible notion—that they’d killed Jordan. But he couldn’t think about that now or he’d start bawling. Besides, he wasn’t positive his friend was dead. Meeker and the cop hadn’t actually mentioned killing Jordan. All he knew for sure was that he and Jordan were supposed to be found dead in the burnt-out cabin tomorrow morning—and it would appear as if they’d killed Moira while on some cocaine binge. Meeker’s fiancee had a death sentence hanging over her head, too.
And here he was, lying in the back of this smelly cop car, unable to do a thing about it. The car doors were locked, and the mesh screen separated him from the deputy in the front seat. All he could do was play ’possum and wait until the creepy cop stopped the car and opened the back door. Then he could either attack the cop or make a run for it—or both. But Leo didn’t have anything he could use as a weapon. Meanwhile, the deputy had a gun and a nightstick and God only knew what else.
Leo felt a few more bumps in the gravel road, and then the patrol car came to a halt. He heard some static from the police radio. “Hey, Nancy, you there?” the cop asked.
It didn’t exactly sound like the way they talked on TV police shows.
“Corey, we have a noise complaint at 2113 Louise Court,” the woman said through a hiss of static. “Some teenagers are having a wingding. I also got a call from Rosie at Roadside Sundries. She’s closing up the store in ten minutes. Seems she’s been babysitting for that Ms. Blanchette’s little boy. Ms. Blanchette was supposed to be gone for only fifteen minutes, she said—and that was over an hour ago….”
“Tell Rosie not to get her panties in a twist,” the deputy said. “I’ve found Ms. Blanchette’s missing fiance, and I found Ms. Blanchette, too. They’re both at the house on Twenty-two Birch, and everything’s copacetic. Either the fiance or I will be over in about twenty minutes to pick up the kid. Tell Rosie to sit tight. As for the noise complaint, I’ll check out Louise Court when I get around to it. Okay?”
“I’ll pass the word on to Rosie,” the police operator said.
“Over and out,” Shaffer said. Then the static died. “You awake back there?” The deputy banged on the mesh screen. “Hey, kid…”
Leo let out a drowsy groan. He heard the ignition shut off, and then the front door opened and shut. After a moment, the back door opened by his feet. “C’mon, hotshot, it’s the end of the line for you….”
His eyes half closed, Leo watched the deputy lean into the car and reach for his leg. Leo kicked his foot at Deputy Shaffer’s face, but missed and hit his shoulder. Still, he stunned the cop, who reeled back and fell to the ground.
Leo crawled out from the back of the patrol car.
“You little shit!” Shaffer growled, scrambling to his feet.
Out of the corner of his eye, Leo saw the cop pull out his nightstick. Leo tried to run but suddenly felt the club come crashing down on the side of his head.
His legs went out from under him, and he slid down on the gravel. Dazed, he tried to get up, but couldn’t.
The deputy grabbed his foot and dragged him across the gravel toward the cabin. Through his jeans, Leo felt stones and pebbles digging against his backside. He tried to yank his foot free, but he was too weak and stunned. He felt utterly helpless. His vision was blurred. He tried to focus on the cop, but he could only hear his voice.
“C’mon in here and join your buddy,” the deputy said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Allen kept screaming that she was going to die.
Susan ran away from that taunting, angry voice—and toward the abandoned building. She ran until the sound of the old, heavy shades flapping in the wind began to drown him out. The plant’s front door and first-floor windows were boarded up with graffiti-marred plywood. Racing around to the side of the building, she weaved through dead shrubs and litter. The ground floor windows on the side of the building were barricaded, too, but she found one plywood board that was askew. She managed to boost herself up to the broken window and climb inside.
Once inside the dusty, dank building, she took a moment to adjust to the darkness. Susan found herself in a tiny office—with two broken chairs and a pile of trash on the floor. Starting for the office door, she accidentally kicked some old beer bottles and cans. She winced at the thought that Allen might have heard the clattering.
Susan hesitated and listened for a moment. She didn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything except the wind howling through the second floor—and those shades banging.
In the narrow corridor, she poked her head into several dark offices—all full of cobwebs and discarded broken furniture. On the floor of one room, she saw two rats crawling around by some trash, and she quickly ducked out to the hallway again.
“Hello?” Susan called softly. “Moira? Can you hear me? I’ve come to get you out of here!”
No response. Then again, Susan was afraid to yell too loudly. She didn’t want to make it any easier for Allen to find her. She wondered if the girl was really here—or if she was dead already. For all she knew, the deputy might have lied to Allen.
Her heart racing, she searched through the maze of offices, going from one gloomy room to another, unsure of what was around each corner. Susan’s voice cracked as she kept calling out to the girl—each time a little louder. She poked her head into an old laboratory. The built-in counters and some archaic equipment were covered with dust. Moths fluttered around the big, unlit room. Against the wall were two large, refrigeration units. One was missing a door; the other still had its door attached, and it was shut. She pulled on the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“Moira?” she called again. “Yell out if you can hear me! Moira—”
Susan fell silent at the sound of a distant, muffled scream. She realized it wasn’t coming from inside the refrigerator unit. “Moira, keep yelling!” she shouted, heading out of the laboratory—then down the dim hallway. “Keep yelling! I’m trying to find you!”
She listened to the girl’s stifled cries and realized she was getting closer to her. The garbled whimpering became louder—and more frantic. It sounded like she was trying to scream past a gag in her mouth.
Susan kept wondering about Allen. Why hadn’t she heard his footsteps? Had he already found a way inside the building? For all she knew, the deputy might have told Allen exactly where to find the girl, and Allen was with Moira now—waiting for his unwitting fiancee to come to him.
Susan noticed a leg from a broken table on the floor, and swiped it up. It was about the size of a baseball bat.
She could still hear the girl’s muted screaming. She followed the sound—to a larger office at the end of the hall. With the table leg ready, she poked her head into the room. She didn’t see anyone and almost moved on. But then she noticed an old chair wedged against the door to a closet or a connecting room. She moved toward the door and heard Moira’s stifled cries on the other side of it.
Pushing the chair away, Susan opened the door. She found Moira curled up on the closet floor in just a torn shirt and panties. The teenager was shaking violently. It looked like her arms had been tied behind her, and she was pushed up against a pipe that ran from the floor to the ceiling. Moira tried to talk past a rolled-up rag stuffed in her mouth.
“It’s okay, I’m going to get you out of here,” Susan said, reaching for the gag.
As she pulled it out of Moira’s mouth, the girl gasped. “Oh, God…thank you…thank you…” Then she started coughing. Susan tried to help her to her feet, but Moira shook her head. She turned away from Susan to show that
