wooden door. Suddenly there was a loud crack and several boards fell inward, creating about a two-by-two-foot opening. Light from Langley’s lantern shone into the dim tunnel. Ron pressed hard against the wall, breathing shallowly, not moving.
Finally something emerged from the opening, a wicked-looking pickax. It seemed more like a weapon than a tool. Then a beam from another flashlight — a powerful one — shot throughout the tunnel and swung from side to side. It narrowly missed catching Ron in its circle of light. He squinted and leaned back against the wall as hard as he could, rubbing his eyes to get them used to the brilliance.
There was a pause and then finally he could make out Langley’s head emerging through the opening. He got halfway through, then once again started to play the flashlight around the tunnel.
Just before the illumination hit Ron’s legs, the graphic designer lifted the tire iron and swung it hard into the back of Langley’s head, just below the hard hat. It struck him solidly and the man grunted and collapsed onto his belly.
As quietly as he could, Ron gathered rocks and bricks from the floor and began piling them onto the unconscious Greg Langley, creating what he felt was a very realistic scene of a man caught by a surprise cave- in.
Two days later Ron Badgett and his wife were standing near the podium in front of City College, awaiting the start of the press conference. A hundred people milled about. Behind the lectern was a blow-up from a local newspaper, mounted to a curtain that rippled in the wind. The headline read: TUNNEL GIRL SAVED!
Sandra had her arm hooked through her husband’s. He enjoyed her proximity and the flowery smell of her perfume. She had a smile on her face. The atmosphere among the crowd was festive, giddy even. There’s nothing like rescuing trapped children to supercharge community spirit.
Waving and smiling, Chief Knoblock, Tonya Gilbert and her parents walked through the crowd and up to the podium. After a lengthy round of cheers and applause, the chief quieted the onlookers like a conductor in front of an orchestra and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, could I have your attention please?… Thank you. I’m delighted to present to you Tonya Gilbert. She was just released from Memorial Hospital this morning. I know she wants to say a word to you.”
More wild clapping and shouts.
The pretty girl, with a small bandage over her forehead and a blue cast on her ankle and another on her wrist, stepped shyly to the microphone. Blushing fiercely, she started to say something, but her throat caught. She started over. “Like, I just want to say, you know, thanks to everybody. I was pretty freaked. So, you know… uhm, thanks.”
Her lack of articulation didn’t stop the crowd from exploding in applause and cheers once again.
Then the chief introduced the girl’s parents. The businessman, in a blue blazer and gray slacks, stepped forward to the microphone, while his wife, beaming a smile, put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. The businessman thanked the fire department and police for their heroic efforts, and the citizens of the town for their support.
“But my deepest appreciation goes to the man who risked his life to save my little girl. And as a token of that appreciation I want to give him this.” The businessman held up a framed, three-foot-long mock-up of a check for $500,000. “Which represents the sum I’ve ordered deposited into his account.”
More raucous applause; large sums of money, just like rescued youngsters, are guaranteed crowd- pleasers.
Gilbert added, “Please join me in thanking… Mr. Greg Langley.”
A brace on his neck, a bandage on his hand, the rescue specialist walked slowly to the podium, limping. He seemed agitated, though Ron guessed it had less to do with the pain from the injuries than his impatience with hokeyness like this. He took the big check and passed it quickly to his assistant.
Tonya’s father continued, “What he did took great personal courage and sacrifice. Even after being buried in a cave-in and nearly killed, Mr. Langley continued to crawl to the tunnel where our Tonya was trapped and got her to safety. You’ll have the gratitude of our family forever.”
The crowd seemed to want a speech but all Langley said was an impatient “Thanks a lot.” He waved and left fast — on to more rescues and more rewards, Ron assumed. He felt a burst of regret he’d only brained the guy when he’d simulated the cave-in and hadn’t caused more serious damage; he definitely deserved a broken wrist or jawbone.
As they drove home, Sandra was clearly pleased the girl had been rescued but she said with some genuine sympathy in her voice, “Sorry you missed out on the reward, honey.”
What he’d told his wife was that the drain was so clogged with roots and mud that he’d only gotten halfway to the tunnel.
She added, “I know you’re disappointed you didn’t get what you’d wanted. But at least the girl’s safe… and so are you. That’s the important thing.”
He kissed her hair.
Thinking: Ah, but you’re wrong, dear. I got
Though he could hardly share this thought with her. Just like there was a
A few weeks ago, just after he’d moved to the new building, Ron had spotted gorgeous Tonya Gilbert leaving class. He couldn’t stop thinking about the clinging pink tank top she wore, her long hair flying in the breeze, her slim legs — couldn’t stop picturing her tied down in a cellar, Ron slipping the garrote around her beautiful neck.
Deciding that Tonya’d be his first victim in NeDo, he’d followed her for several days and learned she always took a shortcut from the school down the alley beside his office and continued through the courtyard of the deserted building behind it. Ron had planned the abduction carefully. He’d found that an old tunnel went right underneath her route and had laid a trap — removing a grate and covering it with thin Sheetrock, painted to look like concrete. When she’d walked over it last night, she’d fallen through and dropped twenty feet to the floor of the tunnel. He’d climbed down to her, made sure she was unconscious, shut off her cell phone and threw it down a drainpipe (he’d been troubled to learn from helpful Chief Knoblock that cell phones still have a signal when they’re off; he’d have to remember that in the future).
Leaving her in the tunnel, he’d returned to the surface to seal up the open grate with plywood. But as he was hammering the grate back into place he must’ve hit a weakened beam. It collapsed and, as he’d scrabbled to safety, half the building came down. There was no way to get back inside from there. Worse, one of the sub- basement walls had collapsed too, exposing the tunnel where the girl lay.
Tonya was still unconscious and wouldn’t know what Ron had done, nor could she identify him. But rescue workers would undoubtedly find the workroom off the adjacent tunnel where he had his knives and ropes and video camera, all of which bore his fingerprints. There was also a videotape in the camera that he sure as hell didn’t want the police to see. He’d tried to climb back down to get his things but the building was far too unstable. He was looking for another route down when the first fire trucks arrived — somebody must have heard the collapse and called 9-1-1 — and Ron had fled.
He’d returned back home, desperately trying to figure out how to return for the damning evidence. While Sandra slept, he’d stayed transfixed to the TV all night, watching the coverage about Tunnel Girl, praying that they wouldn’t get into the tunnel before he had a chance, somehow, to beat them to it. Praying too that she wouldn’t die — his only hope to get to the workroom was to pretend he was trying to rescue her himself.
Then, after a tortured, sleepless night, the police arrived at his doorstep (his alarm at seeing Detective Perillo had nothing to do with the possibility of a fire-damaged office, of course).
Despite this scare, though, it worked out for the best that they’d asked for his help; it was through Knoblock
