Quickly around the nearest bed. A frightened pause: Was that a footstep in the hall
No, nothing. Get to the phone. Hurry.
Normally it rested on the nightstand next to her favorite lamp, the one with the seashell shade. Now lamp and phone were a spray of ceramic shards and a tangle of wires on the floor.
She stooped, groping in the shadows for the handset, but it had been ripped from the base and discarded somewhere, and she couldn’t find it.
When she stood, she saw Judy and the two men gathered in the bathroom doorway. She held up the useless base unit in explanation.
“Where are your other phones” Philip whispered as Barbara rejoined the group.
He could have asked Charles, of course. But judging by the glazed vacancy of his stare, Barbara doubted her husband would have answered.
“Ally’s room,” she said. “Just down the hall.”
Philip hesitated. “You don’t happen to keep a gun around”
“Sorry.”
“Maybe we won’t need it. Place is pretty quiet. They may have left.”
Charles flinched at the words. Barbara wondered why.
Single file they crept down the lightless hall to the first door on the right.
Ally’s room-but the doorway had collapsed. The gap between the warped frame and the door, wedged ajar by debris, was too narrow to permit entry.
Barbara peered inside, her gaze roving over a shadowed waste of toppled bookcases and fallen curtains and broken glass, hunting fearfully for some sign of her daughter.
If Ally was in there, she was hidden in the wreckage. And making no sound. No sound at all.
Trembling, she turned away and caught Philip’s interrogative glance. With effort she focused on the immediate problem.
A telephone. Where
“Kitchen,” she said, her voice hushed. “Or we could go out the back door, circle around to the garage, use the car phone.”
Philip thought for a moment, his eyes cutting toward the far end of the hallway with the eerie regularity of a metronome.
“Safer to stay inside,” he decided. “Doesn’t sound like they’re in the house, but they may be patrolling the yard.”
“Why would they” Judy asked.
Philip shrugged. “Why would they do any of this”
Charles looked away.
Quickly to the end of the hall, Philip in the lead. He pivoted into the dining area, then motioned for the others to follow.
Into the kitchen, the only part of the house still brightly lit. Barbara blinked in astonishment at the scorched ruins of the cellar doorway, then reached for the cordless phone.
But there was no phone-no handset, no base unit, only the bracket sagging from the wall on loosened screws.
Damn.
“Our other phone’s in the den,” she said, answering Philip’s unspoken question. “Across from the foyer.”
She was moving toward the kitchen doorway when she noticed Charles, half hidden behind the central island, stooping low.
He felt her stare and straightened instantly, a hand on his lapel. “Some of their equipment,” he whispered.
Barbara glanced over the island and saw a black duffel bag, its contents strewn across the floor.
“Thought there might be something useful-a cell phone or a radio.” Charles frowned. “No luck.”
“How about a gun” Philip asked.
“No luck, I said.”
“Well”-Philip shrugged-“it was worth a look.”
They left the kitchen, Philip still the leader, Barbara second in line.
Distantly she was glad Charles had searched the bag, even though he’d found nothing of value. At least he was trying.
Really, it was the first positive thing her husband had done all night.
73
Cain beckoned to Lilith and Tyler, then followed Trish inside the van. Roughly he pushed her into the bench seat. She huddled there, panting, while he stared down thoughtfully at the dirty mop of her hair.
Even handcuffed, she couldn’t be trusted. She’d already demonstrated considerable talent as an escape artist. Getting out of a locked trunk underwater was a stunt worthy of Houdini.
But Houdini himself couldn’t shed a pair of cuffs if his hands were in plain sight.
Cain surveyed the rear compartment. Bolted to the doorframe was a padded grab bar. He tested the mounting. Secure.
Groping in his pocket, he produced the key set taken from Officer Wald’s belt. From the slight widening of Trish’s eyes, he could see she recognized the item.
“Every time a bell rings,” Cain whispered, “an angel earns his wings.” He jingled the keys. “Sounds like your partner’s flying right now.”
She didn’t answer.
The van rocked on its springs as Lilith hopped into the rear compartment.
“Got to uncuff the Mouseketeer for a second,” Cain said. “If she moves … if she even breathes too hard… grease her.”
Lilith unholstered her Glock, the silencer already discarded, and touched the muzzle to Trish’s cheek.
Bending low, Cain reached behind the cop and jerked her wrists sideways. With Wald’s handcuff key he unlocked the left cuff. Trish offered no resistance as he pulled her right arm forward and up, bringing her wrist alongside the grab bar.
The open handcuff dangled on its short chain. Deftly he threaded it under the bar, then raised her left arm and snapped the cuff over her wrist again.
She was manacled to the doorframe, her hands at eye level.
Perfect.
“You wanted me, boss” Tyler, peering in through the side doorway.
Cain studied him. The younger man looked pale, his eyes glazed. “Feel okay to drive” he asked dubiously.
“How far”
“Back to the Kent place. So we can finish things.”
Nod. “I can make it.”
The statement seemed an expression of optimism more than fact, but Cain was prepared to accept it. He didn’t want Lilith at the wheel. He wanted her in the rear compartment, standing guard. Her cool, feral gaze never missed a thing.
“I’ll take the Porsche,” he said briskly. “Tyler drives the van. Lilith, you stay back here with the Girl Scout.” He smiled at Trish. “You were a Girl Scout, weren’t you”
She looked away. “No.”
Cain merely laughed, amused by the transparency and pointlessness of the lie. He tossed Wald’s keys to Lilith, then climbed out and shut the side panel with an echoing slam.
Quickly across the parking lot, his boots slapping asphalt in a clockwork rhythm. The Porsche was unlocked. He slipped behind the wheel.
Ally glanced at him, and he favored her with a cold smile.
“I just knew we’d be together again, freckle-face.”
She lowered her head, a shudder dancing lightly over her thin shoulders.
The keys were in the ignition. Cain guided the Porsche forward. Headlights flared in the rearview mirror as the van lumbered in pursuit.
Out the gate, onto the winding road. He opened the throttle, enjoying the engine’s power. Behind him, the van struggled to keep up.
On a short straightaway, he studied the girl’s profile in the glow of the dashboard. Wetness gleamed in the corner of her eye.
“Scared, Ally”
“No.”
“You ought to be. I got some real special plans for you.”
The Porsche rounded a curve, hugging the rutted road. The van’s headlights dimmed as Tyler fell farther behind.
Cain thought about what would come next. With duct tape he would bind Ally and Barbara to the two beds in the master suite. Then snuff them both, quick and nasty-the girl first, followed by her mother.
The rearview mirror was dark now, the van lost to sight. He was alone with Ally, the two of them as closely confined as travelers in a space capsule, and as far removed from the rest of the world.