Madison pressed her ear to the door. She’d been up most of the night waiting for it to fling open again, terrified of what that asshole was going to do. She was pretty certain they were going to kill her.
In both hands, Madison clutched the metal tray they brought her meals on. It was old, rusty around the edges, with Olympia Brewing Company in fancy scrawl above a painting of a lady in a hat. It had always struck her as incongruous, especially now. Usually Lurch came to take it away, but last night he’d never rematerialized. She wondered if he couldn’t face her, knowing what was about to happen.
The tray was a flimsy weapon, but better than nothing. She planned on waiting in the shadows beside the door. When it swung open she’d launch herself forward, try to catch him square across the face. Hopefully startle him enough to make a break for it. It was a long shot, and she knew it. It didn’t matter how many push-ups she did, he’d still easily overpower her. But maybe she’d buy herself enough time to get above deck. She had to try. And if it turned out they were in the middle of the ocean, she would jump overboard and drown. That was still preferable to whatever sick torture he had planned.
After the man stormed off she’d heard arguing. It sounded like just the two of them, but it was hard to tell with the echoes and distortion. She pictured Lurch standing with his head down, getting yelled at. For some reason that hadn’t made her feel better.
Nothing but silence for hours now. Usually they brought breakfast right around dawn, but based on the fragments of light seeping into the room it was already late morning. Madison wondered what the hell was going on.
Footsteps. She inhaled sharply, pressing harder against the door. Someone was coming. It was impossible to tell who, since each step resonated against the metal floor. Madison realized she was hyperventilating, the tray shaking in her hands, and she fought to calm down. This was it. She had one shot at getting out of here.
She stepped back into the shadows, listening to the sound of the latch being unbolted, metal grinding against metal. Her knuckles were white, blood pounded in her ears. She braced herself as the door slowly swung open.
It felt like an eternity passed before a silhouette crossed the threshold. Madison leaped forward with a slight cry, swinging the tray with the full force of her weight behind it.
A grunt: she’d miscalculated. It wasn’t the other man, but Lurch standing there. Instead of the face she had caught him in the chest. He caved backward. Her eyes widened as they met his. He looked confused. Regaining her senses Madison lunged past him, tripping over her feet. She caught herself from falling and raced down the corridor. Lurch yelled something but she didn’t pay attention, didn’t focus on anything but running as hard and fast as she could.
After a second Madison ’s brain caught up to her feet and she realized the corridor was ending. A narrow hallway branched left and she took it. She sped past small doors molting gray paint; no time to check them, she’d have to hope that the way up was obvious, a ladder or a staircase. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a desperate desire to see the sun. Tears flooded her eyes and she shook her head to clear them.
The hallway dead-ended in another corridor. Madison skidded to a stop. No sign of an exit in either direction. She chewed her lip, wondering if she should have checked the doors.
Suddenly, Lurch appeared at the far end of the hall. Even from here she could see his features twisted with anger. She whirled and sped in the opposite direction, praying to herself, “Please God, don’t let him catch me, please…”
The door facing her was latched with a heavy metal bar. She almost slammed into it, caught herself, and strained to lift it. She could hear Lurch pounding toward her. The latch fought her efforts, and she cried out in frustration. It suddenly gave with a shriek and she yanked the door open, almost crying with relief at the sight of a ladder.
Madison scrambled up, panting. She was in a narrow tube that seemed to go on forever, at the very top she could make out a hatch. She felt the ladder shift and glanced over her shoulder. Lurch was at the bottom. For a large man he moved surprisingly quickly. He was only two stories behind her and gaining fast.
Madison tried to quicken her pace but her arms and legs shook from the effort. Looking up, she had another forty feet to go. She prayed the hatch wouldn’t be locked.
“ Madison!”
She jerked at the sound of her name and nearly fell. A small voice in her head perversely noted this was the first time Lurch had spoken to her since the airport. She focused all her energy upward: thirty feet left. Her heart was battering her rib cage. Sweat poured down her face but she didn’t dare wipe it away, her hands were already slick with it. Twenty feet. She yelped as one hand slipped off a rung and she dangled, almost tumbling backward. Lurch was closer now, less than fifteen feet away. She gritted her teeth and swung the hand back up, gripping with all her might. Gathering herself, she resumed her climb.
She reached the hatch. Madison pressed against it, arms shaking. It didn’t budge. Once again she strained. With a slight groan, the hatch swung up and out.
Madison felt a hand swipe at her ankle and kicked it away. Gasping, she hauled herself out, slipping off the ridge at the top and landing in a pile on the deck. Lurch’s head poked out behind her. She scrambled to her feet and spun, running again, not caring where she went as long as it was away from him.
Acclimated to the shadowy bowels of the ship, Madison was blinded by the dazzling sunlight. Squinting, she stumbled repeatedly on detritus strewn about the deck. She could still hear Lurch pursuing her, but it sounded as though he’d slowed, and a ray of hope shot through her chest. The air was fresh, salty. She was outside. She might even get away.
Her eyes finally adjusted, and she realized she was careening toward the edge of the deck. The railing was ten feet in front of her. Madison whirled, scanning in the opposite direction. Her heart sank. The boat was moored in the middle of a string of others. Off in the distance past the farthest turret, the shimmering brown of land. But no way to get there, at least not that she could see. And it looked too far to reach by swimming. She stood for a moment, gasping.
“Stop.”
Madison spun around. Lurch was stumbling toward her, clutching his belly, nearly bent double. Her lip curled- at least the bastard was suffering as much as she was.
“No way off,” Lurch said, shaking his head. He advanced toward her, one arm outstretched. “C’mon, now…”
She shook her head, backing away until her heels hit cold steel: the side of the boat.
He beckoned with his fingers. “It’s okay, I promise.”
“Go to hell,” Madison said. She glanced back, then climbed up on the lip of the gunwale. She swayed slightly, arms flung out for balance.
Lurch’s eyes widened with surprise as he shouted, “Don’t!”
Madison ignored him. Tears streamed down her face as she turned and dove forward.
Sixteen
“Knock, knock.” Kelly rapped tentatively on the door.
Rodriguez held up a finger and she frowned. He was on his cell, sitting up in bed with a notepad on his lap.
Kelly waited irritably for him to finish. Most of the night she’d tossed and turned, debating what the captain had said. She’d never been one of those agents who took the easy way out, dismissing inconsistent information just to get a case over and done with. She liked to think the victims deserved more. In spite of everything she clung to the belief that her job was to seek out the truth, even when it was inconvenient.
But as dawn broke, she decided to blame Morris’s murder on the MS-13 stash house crew. The Phoenix P.D. would be happy, her boss would be happy, things in the media would settle down. Despite the decision, she still couldn’t sleep. Kelly lay there watching early morning sneak through the worn drapes in her hotel room, wondering what she was turning into. She didn’t know herself anymore.
She shifted her attention back to Rodriguez. He looked like hell. His face was swollen almost twice its normal size and crisscrossed with ragged black stitches. His nose pointed left, and a gauze bandage stuck out from the
