He stepped into a dimly lit kitchen and began looking around for a weapon of some kind. Suddenly, a wall phone rang and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He heard a loud thump come from upstairs as the phone rang a second time then ceased.
A man’s voice, muffled and barely audible, came from the direction of the front of the house. Tom continued searching for a weapon, relieved that Tracy’s captor apparently considered the call important enough to stop whatever he had been doing at that moment.
Having rifled through a couple of drawers and finding nothing but silverware and kitchen items, Tom crept through the tiny dining room into the living room, the floor boards creaking loudly with nearly every step he took. He shone the flashlight around the room. With the exception of a big flat screen TV, an enormous stereo system and a cheap sofa, the living room was void of furnishings.
Tom spotted the stairs across the room in a foyer and crept toward them, stopping dead in his tracks each time the floor creaked, half expecting the voice on the phone to stop mid-sentence after realizing there was an intruder downstairs.
As he neared the staircase, Tom could make out the voice more clearly. He noticed that the stairs were carpeted and felt grateful for the dampening effect the carpet would have on the inevitably creaky wooden stairs.
Tom ascended the staircase as quietly as possible. As he neared the top, he could clearly make out what the man was saying.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
Tom reached the top and stopped, then carefully peered around the corner down the hallway. He saw three rooms, two with their doors closed. The man was in a room adjacent to the one furthest away. Judging by the sound of his voice reverberating off the walls, he was in a bathroom.
“We’ll be holding down the fort until then.”
Tom noticed that the furthest door was barely ajar. His guess was that Tracy was inside and the man had left her there long enough to answer the phone and take a leak. He wondered why Tracy wasn’t making any sound now as his heart filled with dread.
Was she unconscious? Or had he already killed her?
Something had silenced her-that much was sure.
Tom knew he had to move quickly if he was to have any chance of saving Tracy. The man could walk out into the hall any moment and head for the stairs. Then Tom would be screwed.
He took a deep breath, peeked around the corner again and stepped quietly toward the nearest room. He put his ear to the door and didn’t hear a sound. He opened the door quietly, stepped inside then heard a beep as the man ended his call.
Tom stood frozen just inside the doorway, half expecting the man to pass by the room and see him there. Then he heard the sound of a creaky door open.
He had gone back in with Tracy!
Nervously, Tom shone the light around the room and saw what appeared to be a second bedroom. There was an unmade twin bed, a beat-up chest of drawers and a mismatched nightstand beside the bed.
No potential weapons in sight Except for a brass lamp.
Tom went over, snatched up the lamp and tore off the plastic shade. Grasping the heavy lamp by its base, he turned around and headed toward the door.
With his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, he stepped into the hall and headed directly toward the room where Tracy and the man were. He was just about to reach for the knob when the door suddenly swung open and revealed a man standing in the doorway, staring at him in utter surprise and disbelief.
“Who the hell-”
With all of his strength, Tom swung the lamp and hit the man square in his face, making a sickening dull thud sound. The man’s eyes were wide-open in absolute shock and pain as his body slumped down to the floor, blood gushing out of his smashed-in nose.
Tom stepped over the body when a second man suddenly appeared in the doorway, aiming a pistol directly at Tom’s head. It was the same man he and Tracy had seen dumping off the body of the black woman.
“Hold it right there, asshole!” the man commanded.
Tom froze in his tracks.
“Drop it or I’ll make mincemeat out of that pretty-boy face of yours.”
Tom dropped the lamp.
“Back up.”
Tom took a few steps backward, certain that the next thing he heard would be the sound of a gunshot that would signal the end.
“Keep moving. Into that room,” the man ordered, motioning toward the second bedroom with his gun.
Tom turned around, stumbled across the hall to the room and lurched inside.
“On the bed,” he barked.
Tom hesitated a moment before stepping over and standing beside the bed
“Now, sit down and close your eyes.”
“What are you going to do?” Tom asked fearfully.
“You’ll see in a minute. Just fucking do it!”
Tom sat down slowly. He stared anxiously at the man who was now standing directly over him, feeling a cold sweat break out on his brow, trying to accept the grim reality that he was about to be executed.
“Sweet dreams,” the man said.
And the next thing Tom knew, the whole world turned black.
CHAPTER 23
As he regained consciousness, Tom couldn’t make out where he was in the darkness or how he had gotten there. He was in a room that was cold and damp, possibly a basement, lying flat on his back on a concrete floor, his head feeling like it might explode from the excruciating pain. Instinctively, he tried to touch where it hurt and discovered that his hands were bound together. They weren’t tied behind his back though, so he raised up his arms far enough to feel his head with his wrists. There was a lump not quite the size of a golf ball.
He tried to stand up but his legs were also bound together. He reached down and felt several layers of duct tape wrapped tightly around his ankles.
It was at that moment that he recalled what had happened. He had been knocked unconscious by the man with the gun and was apparently being held captive somewhere in the house. He gazed at the luminous dial of his wristwatch, wondering how long ago he’d been out. To his surprise, it hadn’t been for much more than an hour.
Then it hit him: Tracy! He had to find Tracy!
Tom’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as he looked around at his surroundings. To his right, he made out a rectangle of dim light in the wall near the ceiling. There was another rectangle on the opposite wall.
Basement windows, he thought.
He rolled himself over in an effort to get onto his feet. After several head-splitting twists and turns, he was finally able to get up onto his knees. He was certain he’d given himself a hernia in the process. In a sudden surge of sheer determination, he managed to get to his feet and stand upright-very wobbly at first, then steadier once he backed himself up against a wall for support.
Luckily for him, his captor had apparently assumed he would be knocked out much longer than he actually had been-otherwise he would have been more thorough restraining him. Another thought occurred to him. Maybe he had been in too much of a hurry to finish Tracy off at the time to bother doing a better job on him…
Tom liked the first option much better.
The only thing he was sure of was that too much time had already gone by since he’d been whacked out and he needed to get moving instead of standing there reminiscing.
He eyed the nearer window and hopped over to it, fighting to keep his balance. He peered out and could see light in the windows of the adjacent house. But the tiny casement window was simply too small for him to fit through.