She looked between him and the phone.
He made a sound of exasperation. “At least call Kit’s guards.”
She agreed to do this. She opened the phone up and saw that the display was cracked. Still, she tried to turn the phone on.
“Gabe-it’s broken. Listen, let’s look for them, and if we can’t find them soon, we’ll go back into the office and use the phone there to call for help.”
She stood and looked down at Ciara.
“What she was saying about Kit-is that true?” Gabe asked.
“Some of it. Before killing those women, his stepfather sometimes forced him to…to pose holding them. And other things. He hated it.”
She began hurrying toward the tower. He followed, but she heard him saying something softly to himself.
“What was that?”
“Just a part of a poem. I think I understand it better now.”
“Jesus, Gabe, poetry? And by the way-have you forgotten everything we learned in self-defense?”
“I’m not the one who was handcuffed and gagged, was I?”
Suddenly they heard sounds coming from the tower-Everett’s raised voice. They ducked between the classroom buildings.
54
Malibu, California
Thursday, May 22, 9:18 P.M.
At the same time Alex heard the shot, the door to one of the tower sheds opened, and Kit Logan stepped out onto a lower platform. He aimed the rifle at Everett’s head.
“Drop the gun, Everett. Then get to work on disarming your contraption.”
“Disarm it? I’m afraid that’s not possible. As for the gun-”
He raised it toward Kit and fired as he hit the light switch, plunging them into darkness. Kit turned on a flashlight and ran down the stairs, but Everett had already slammed the door shut. Just as Kit reached it, they heard the bar fall into place, then the lock snap.
Kit pounded the door in frustration.
“So long, Kit!” Everett called through the door. “Sorry I couldn’t stick around for the brief but sweet reunion.”
Kit flattened his hand against the door. “Meghan…” Alex heard him say.
Kit moved back, and used the flashlight to find the light switch.
“Kit?” Alex said. “Were you hit?”
“He missed,” he said in an unsteady voice.
“Thank God you didn’t fire.”
“And have a ricochet send us all to kingdom come? When he fired at me, I was sure we were going to end up in bits and pieces.” He looked up. “Spooky? Are you and Chase okay?”
“We’re okay. I did good, didn’t I, Kit?”
He took a deep breath and seemed to refocus his attention. “You were wonderful. He never guessed.”
Kit ran to the winch and used it to slowly lower Alex closer to the ground.
“Well,” Spooky admitted, “I called your name. I’m sorry. I was scared.”
“That’s okay. We’ll figure out a way to get you down soon,” Kit said, already hurrying away from the winch, slinging the rifle onto his back. “First I have to help Alex.”
“Kit, wait!” Alex yelled.
Kit had just stepped onto the sandbags and halted, looking at Alex in puzzlement. “I watched him twice,” he said. “Besides, I’m good at this sort of thing.”
He moved calmly until he reached the middle of the ring. There, he hesitated, as if undecided.
Alex found himself clenching his teeth.
Kit pulled the tortoise out of his pocket.
“Oh God-” Alex groaned. He bit back any further protest against having their fates decided by a stone tortoise. He saw Kit look up into the darkness above them, his lips moving silently, as if in prayer.
He looked back down, and with a look of determination, took another step.
Nothing happened.
They both exhaled loudly. Kit seemed more confident then, and within a few steps had reached Alex.
Ignoring the trickle of blood from the wound on his back that now dripped down his arms and from his fingertips, Alex called out, “Spooky? Is there a window in that room, or anywhere above it?”
“Yes. It’s kind of long and skinny.”
“Could Kit fit through it?”
“I think so.”
“Try to break it out.”
Kit was cutting him loose now, supporting his weight in much the same way he had supported Kit’s in the woods. The relief to Alex was immediate-although there was still strain on his ankles, they were no longer bearing all his weight.
“I’m sorry I had to let him do this to you,” Kit said, “but-”
“No, it was smart. I understand.”
He knew that Kit didn’t want to reveal his presence until he had some idea of what had become of Meghan. Neither of them said what Alex knew they both feared-that the gunshot they had all heard was Meghan’s execution.
Just as Kit lowered him to the concrete, they heard a chime.
“Shit,” Alex said.
55
Malibu, California
Thursday, May 22, 9:27 P.M.
Everett discovered Ciara’s body near the baseball field. He felt relief. It wasn’t merely that he hadn’t much liked working with Ciara. For the last few minutes, he had been sure that Meghan was dead. He would prefer Meghan alive. He had plans for her.
He looked back at the tower, rising in the darkness. He could go back and spend more time tormenting Alex Brandon. But he hadn’t especially enjoyed that. He missed having Cameron to appreciate it, but worse, the explosives were distracting. He felt rushed. That wasn’t the way it should be. You had to be able to savor it.
He looked at his watch. Almost half the time gone.
He could look around in the dark for Meghan. She would be armed. She might be aiming a weapon at him right now.
He crouched down and moved closer to the buildings. Where would she be?
Everett looked toward the dark woods beyond the baseball field and suddenly realized he was alone.
Morgan. Frederick. Cameron. None of them could help him now. Not even Ciara.
The prospect of hunting in the dark seemed less and less appealing. In all likelihood, Meghan was going for help. His wonderful escape plans might come to naught. Should he take Alex Brandon as a hostage?
He glanced nervously at the tower. No. He had devised the timer, but Cameron had helped with the explosives. Everett, who was inexperienced with explosives, thought they might have overdone it. He could probably get Brandon out of there, but would they be far enough away when the tower blew up?
He began walking quickly toward the office. He decided he’d take a few precautions, then grab his keys and head for the driveway at the front of the school. One of the vans was parked there, packed with his luggage and all the false paperwork he would need. The jet was waiting.
At least after tonight, he would be able to stop riding around in vans. He longed to get back behind the wheel of his Testarossa, parked in the garage at the house, but that would have to wait, too.
He began walking faster. He thought of the stupid screams Ciara had broadcast over the loudspeaker. And there had been gunfire. The sheriff’s department might already be on the way to investigate. After all, Kit’s home, just at the top of the cliffs, had experienced soldiers patrolling outdoors, on every part of the grounds. They were probably calling 911 right now.
He suddenly remembered that Ciara had been carrying Alex Brandon’s cell phone. Did Meghan have it now?
He began to run.
56
Malibu, California
Thursday, May 22, 9:27 P.M.
“How many of them are in there now?” Alex asked, looking toward the timer.
“Four. Almost half. But the time between each is decreasing.”
His feet were completely numb, his legs useless, but he managed to move to a sitting position. Alex’s legs and feet prickled with the burning needlelike sensation of returning circulation. As soon as he was able, he stood. “Let’s get Chase and Spooky out of here.”