Part 22 (1/2)

Sorenson still looked unsteady on his feet. He sat on the sofa. ”If you two don't mind, I'm going to stay behind and call in my report. I want to check on the all points-bulletin that was issued and see if they've made any progress in finding our man.” He reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table and lit one.

Cynthia crinkled her nose. ”You should quit that nasty habit. Your apartment reeks.”

He ignored her comment and exhaled. A halo of smoke circled his bandaged head in a seeming taunt.

No use arguing with a smoker, besides she had more important things to concentrate on.

Mike took the diagram from her and opened it. ”Okay, looks like our door downstairs is at the end of the building.” He pointed to the west.

Thank G.o.d Mike could make sense of the schematic. She knew she couldn't. ”Let's get started.” She led the way down the corridor.

Mike opened the door and loped down the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs. Cynthia followed on unsteady legs, anxious to search, but fearful of what they might find.

The only illumination consisted of small bulbs in wire cages adhered to the walls, reminiscent of those she'd seen in mining movies where darkness prevailed deep in the shafts. The ambiance and lighting in the bas.e.m.e.nt wasn't that much different but felt eerie!

”I can't see anything,” she complained. ”We need flashlights.”

He handed her the diagram. ”I'll run back to the car and grab one and the lantern we keep there, too.”

”Hurry.”

Mike skipped the top two stairs in one long-legged leap.

Cynthia shuddered at being left alone in the dank, mustiness. Given the muted light, she scanned as much as she could of her surroundings. Clearly, the signature odor that lingered in the hallways and closets originated here in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Not able to see beyond her nose, she dared not stick her hand out to touch anything. But there was nothing wrong with her voice.

”Alex!” she called as loudly as she could.

She c.o.c.ked her ear, hoping to hear something; anything. There was no response.

Something scampered across her foot. A s.h.i.+ver ran up her back, and she stifled the need to scream. She imagined what Mike would think if she bolted upstairs like a sissy. ”Man up,” she mumbled, but grimaced at the thought of creepy critters rus.h.i.+ng around her feet.

Mike returned within a few minutes with the lantern lit and fully illuminating the room. He handed her the flashlight. ”Wow, this is better.” He held up the light and looked around. ”Maybe not. This place looks better in the dark.”

”I agree, but I prefer to be able to see where I'm walking. I was afraid to move for fear I'd break my neck...and I think there are rats down here.” The mention of vermin raised the hair on the back of Alex's thick neck.

”They don't bite...unless they're hungry.”

”Great, I feel so much better.” Maybe Alex would be fearless, but she hated anything that scurried around. ”Where should we start?”

The small storage area in which they stood was filled with cardboard boxes of various sizes and shapes. Beyond, a long corridor stretched the length of the building, most likely the escape route Sorenson mentioned.

Mike set the lantern on a large box, took the diagram back from her, and spread it out beneath the light. Cynthia leaned in closer, watching as he ran his finger along the drawing.

”I think I've got my bearings.” With one finger on the schematic, he pointed another down the corridor. ”This has to be that hallway, and it looks like there are several doors that lead into other small rooms.”

She sighed. ”Oh, great. We're in a maze.” She wanted to run from door-to-door, but having a plan seemed a more logical way to find Alex.

Mike pointed behind them. ”There's nothing in that direction except the electrical room.”

Cynthia moaned. ”I'm sure if we looked in there we'd find the original kite that Benjamin Franklin flew to discover electricity. He probably did the wiring here.” Adrenaline pumped into her system and fueled the need to search. She fisted her hands and blew out a loud breath. ”We're wasting time.”

Mike picked up the lantern and held it high. ”Right! Let's stagger our efforts. You take one door, I'll take another.”

The idea of rats crossed her mind, but she couldn't give into the squeamish female side. She opened the first door and discovered nothing more than a cleaning closet. Mops and brooms leaned against the walls, a stack of buckets nested in the corner. She backed out and shut the door. ”I don't believe anyone has used these things in the last twenty years.”

Mike stepped inside the next room. She peered around the door jamb, praying to see Alex. Instead, stacks of yellowed newspapers had been piled against one wall, while cardboard boxes lined another. A spider had woven a work of art to cover the antique was.h.i.+ng machine in the corner. Mike raised the lantern and did a quick, but thorough search. ”Nothing in here,” he said and pulled the scarred wooden portal closed.

At the end of the hallway, Mike turned to her and shrugged his shoulders. ”Nothing but rooms full of the same stuff. h.e.l.l, the people that stored them are either dead or long gone from this joint.” He looked forlorn as he wiped his furrowed brow. ”Looks like we've reached the end.”

She followed him back to their starting point, silently praying Alex would leap from behind a pile and shout surprise. Her heart ached. This was supposed to be where the story had a happy ending.

She aimed her flashlight and scanned the room one last time. ”What now?” she asked Mike. ”Please tell me we aren't too late.”

She wanted to cry and throw herself into Mike's big strong arms and tell him the whole story. Even in her sadness, she pictured what would happen if she did. Most likely he'd flee before giving her a chance to fully explain.

”There's nothing more we can do here.” He turned back to the stairs. ”Let's check in with Sorenson and see if he had any luck.”

With Mike halfway upstairs, she stood on the bottom step and took a long last look around. The beam from her flashlight crept along the walls and ceiling, and when she turned to go upstairs, reflected on the electrical room door.

”You go on up, Mike,” she called. ”It's probably a waste of time, but I'm going to check the electrical closet.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Cynthia pushed aside a rickety, wooden crate to get to the electrical closet. Negative thoughts dictated her mind. If she had to move something to get to the door, then probably no one had pa.s.sed through it recently. Still, determination and hope drove her to check out the interior.

She inched open the creaking door, and immediately sensed a difference in smell. Something sweet wafted past her nose, a familiar aroma. She knew the scent well.

Her favorite perfume. She recalled how Alex had protested when she spritzed him with the sweet Jasmine fragrance. Why would it smell so strongly in this room?

Her heart pounded in antic.i.p.ation as she scanned the interior of the small dusty room with the beam from her flashlight. The floor, in dire need of sweeping, showed only traces of old tile beneath the powdery dirt, and the circuit board on the far wall was a mesh of new and older wiring leading to various toggle switches and fuses. The entire thing was covered with a veil of dust. She thought back to the electric glitches and recognized the reason.

Cynthia canva.s.sed the rear wall with the light. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, other than the archaic wiring. But why did she smell her perfume? Could it be just her imagination?

A strange noise kept her from closing the door...a scuffling, caused by something much bigger than a rat. The sound came from behind the circuit wall. She stood perfectly still and c.o.c.ked her ear but heard only her own breathing. ”Alex,” she called.

Again, she heard a noise, only this time it sounded more like a m.u.f.fled cry.

Heart racing, she ducked through cob webs. ”Alex, is that you?”

A web adhered itself to her arm, and when she tried to remove it, the gauzy substance stuck to her palm. She swiped her hand against her pant leg until the spider's creation let go. ”Alex, if you can hear me, make another noise.”

The m.u.f.fled cries became constant, and she followed the sound.

Closer to the circuit panel, she discovered a niche between it and the back wall. Unless one entered the room, it would be easily missed. Her stomach knotted as she approached and aimed her light around the corner. Her heart seized. ”Alex! Oh, my G.o.d, it's you.” Her breathing returned, keeping rhythm to the hammering of her pulse...Alex's pulse.

Duct tape covered his mouth. His wrists and feet appeared to be bound with electrical wiring, and his tied hands were secured to his ankles. Curled in a fetal position on the dirty floor, he lay wedged between the electrical panel and the wall. She s.h.i.+vered, seeing herself bound, gagged and wide-eyed on the floor. She was about to rescue herself in a sense.