It had been cool this morning when she’d left home, but like was so often the case with Atlanta, at this time of evening, the morning coolness had given away to a warmth that was verging on heat. Being inside this elevator only made things worse.
She tucked her phone in her pocket, careful to turn the screen off.
She’d had hopes of getting out of this elevator quickly, but that didn’t seem to be happening, so it was best to preserve the battery.
Calm down, Cassandra. Don’t be stupid, she whispered in her head, hoping that her silent pep talk would center her.
She took off her trench coat, carefully folded it, and lay it atop her briefcase. Then she reached for her phone, and the screen again lit up the elevator car.
She looked back at her mostly silent companion and saw that while he wasn’t speaking, he was carefully following her every move with his eyes.
Given her line of work, that sort of thing would ordinarily make her uncomfortable.
She was no stranger to the criminal element, and her frequent trips to county jails or the state prison meant that a certain kind of attention wasn’t uncommon. She had no illusions about her looks, but in those environments, being female was enough to get leered at.
But she didn’t get that sense from this man. He obviously wasn’t a conversationalist, but he didn’t seem threatening either. He was just freakishly observant.
“Cop?” she asked.
In the dim, artificial cell phone light, Cassandra could see the man surprise at her question. But he recovered quickly. “No.”
Cassandra waited, certain that any moment he would say something else.
He didn’t. And the silence that had become a tangible thing in the elevator only thickened.
“All right then,” Cassandra said.
She turned her attention to her phone, suppressing that natural desire to push her questions. This was uncommon for her, someone completely stonewalling her, especially in this circumstance. But rather than focus on that, Cassandra turned her attention to the most important thing.
Which was still getting the hell out of this elevator.
“I can sometimes get a signal…”
She knew that the man wouldn’t respond and clearly had no interest in talking to her, but speaking was more for her benefit than his.
She looked down at the screen, counting the little dots that told her the cell phone’s signal. There was one, that single circle enough to give her a tiny sliver of hope.
She doubted the signal was strong enough, but she dialed the main courthouse switchboard, her heart stuck in her throat, her emotions wavering somewhere between hope and fear. She waited for the phone to ring, then waited, continued to wait.
There was nothing.
“Dammit!” she said.
Her voice was loud, harsh in the silent elevator car, and she looked back at the man quickly. “Sorry.”
He gave her a curt nod, and she appreciated at least that marginal acknowledgment.
“I don’t have a signal,” she said, sounding forlorn.
“Yeah, I’d expect not,” he said.
“What about you?” she said, overlooking his statement.
“What about me?” he responded.
“Your phone. Try yours,” she said.
He shook his head. “Don’t have one.”
“You don’t have cell phone?” Cassandra said, looking at him disbelieving.
“No,” he said.
And just that quickly, the few tendrils of connection were gone. The man shut down completely. Cassandra didn’t think she’d ever enjoyed being stuck in an elevator, but she figured the company had to make a huge difference.
For lack of anything else to do, she pushed the button again, again listened to that tinny ring of the bell, which sounded so small, so ineffectual in the deep silence and deeper darkness of the elevator.
Nothing happened, and she lowered her hand in frustration, listened again, hoping to hear some sign of activity. When she was again greeted with silence, she pressed the bell again, held it even longer.
Each second that passed with no response made the bell seem louder, the darkness deeper, and sent her fear skyrocketing.
One moment Cassandra had been pushing the bell. The next, her hand was pulled to her side so tight that she couldn’t lift it. A second after, a strong, heavy hand closed over her mouth, and Cassandra found herself caged, trapped against the man, knowing instantly that there was no way she could free herself.
“What are you—”
The scream that grew in her throat came out but was silenced by his hand over her mouth.
He squeezed her even tighter and then whispered in her ear.
“Quiet.”
The word was barely audible, so quiet that Cassandra was surprised she could hear it over her own pounding heart.
But hear it she did. She also heard something else in his voice. Something she never would have expected.
It wasn’t exactly fear. In fact, Cassandra wouldn’t call it fear at all. Maybe alertness was the word she was thinking of.
That was it she decided.
The man, who had seemed so nonchalant, so completely unconcerned with their circumstances, was fully alert now.
That scared the shit out of her.
Her heart started pounding even harder, the jackhammering beats rattling her chest, making taking a deep breath impossible.
Though the elevator was completely dark, Cassandra couldn’t stop herself from blinking rapidly, trying to see into the darkness.
It was completely futile, but she tried, seeing nothing but darkness deeper than any she’d seen before.
And while she looked, she listened, the sound of her hammering heart drowning out almost everything else.
The man was tense, his hand still tight against her mouth, the other holding her arm at her side. But his body felt coiled as if ready to spring.
That put Cassandra on even higher alert.
She felt herself tensing too, tensing more if that was even possible.
And she listened.
She hoped that in a moment she’d hear something—the jangle of one of the security guard’s keys as he approached or a straggler, one of her equally workaholic colleagues who had stayed at the courthouse after court was adjourned.
Someone to rescue her from this.
At first there was nothing, but Cassandra listened, hoping for something.
And then she heard it.
Faint at first but growing ever louder.
Footsteps.
They were muffled, didn’t seem particularly hurried, but they were footsteps nonetheless.
She reached up, wrapped her fingers around the man’s strong forearm.
“Quiet.”
His voice was still almost silent, but that alertness she heard before was still there, more intense now.
Cassandra had been relieved to hear the footsteps.
It was clear this man was not.
“What are—”
Cassandra went quiet when he tightened his hold on her mouth and tilted her head to look back at him, though she could see nothing in the darkness.
Cassandra stilled herself. She could hear the footsteps getting closer, and it sounded like more than one person. She’d be out of here soon enough, and once she was, she looked forward to punching this asshole in the teeth.
Until then, she would go with the flow.
Any second now, she would be out of here.
She heard the footsteps…more, and then more.
Something about them seemed…off.
It was a weird thing to think, one she couldn’t quite explain. She could no longer count the number of times she’d heard footsteps coming down this very hall. The lower-pitched thud of polished loafers, the click-clack of high heels. The rhythmic pound of canes and walkers. The smooth, near silent roll of wheelchairs.