Chapter Fifteen
Elizabeth saw that Baldy’s face was strained, and she had the feeling he hadn’t been doing so well since their encounter outside The Mansion.
She and Matt hadn’t been able to influence Lang’s actions, but this guy was another matter.
She focused on him, using every ounce of power she possessed to send him a message.
The man in front of you is an enemy invader. You have to disable him. He’s holding me captive. You have to disable him so I can get away.
She watched Baldy’s visage. Confusion and doubt chased themselves across his features as he tried to figure out what was true and what wasn’t.
Lang saw that she was staring at someone behind him and turned.
Enemy. He’s an enemy,
Elizabeth silently screamed.
Disable him.
Baldy blinked.
“Tony, what are you doing here? Is your shift over?”
So his name was Tony.
His mouth opened and closed as he stared at his boss, puzzlement on his face.
Elizabeth frantically continued to send him false information.
The man in front of you is an enemy. He’s here to attack The Mansion. Disable him.
Tony pulled out a gun and pointed it at Lang.
“What are you doing, you fool?” the crime boss shouted.
In the next moment, Tony pulled the trigger and Lang went down.
From in back of the shooter, another man appeared, and this time it was the guy named Southwell who had taken Matt away.
“Watch out,” Elizabeth shouted at Tony. “There’s another invader.”
The man whirled, just as Southwell pulled the trigger of his own gun.
Tony went down, but Southwell jumped back. And as Elizabeth stared at the scene, she caught the scent of smoke wafting toward her. It could be a malfunctioning fireplace, but she didn’t think so.
She glanced at Mrs. Vivian and saw the woman’s eyes were wide with panic. “The house is on fire. Help me get untied.”
The woman didn’t move.
Help me! You have to help me!
* * *
M
ATT
STARED
AT
the flames, knowing he didn’t have a lot of time now. As he hurried to the steps, he heard the sound of gunfire upstairs.
Oh, Lord, had Lang shot Elizabeth?
Matt had put his foot on the first riser when he saw a figure at the top. It was Southwell, the man who had locked him in the cell down here—no doubt coming to finish him off. But he was staring into darkness, and apparently couldn’t see what had happened in his absence.
Matt jumped to the side, waiting for the man to come down. When he reached the basement, Southwell started for the cell, then stopped short when he apparently spotted the burning door frame. Matt leaped on his back, taking him down to the cement floor.
Southwell grunted, struggling, and Matt knew he had to finish this quickly. He was in bad shape, and there was no way he could match this guy in a physical fight.
Smoke was filling the basement now, and both men began to cough.
The thug flipped Matt over and tried to bring his gun hand up.
Mustering every shred of power he had left, Matt tried to send a thunderbolt toward the guy, but it was like a firecracker that failed to go off.
Just as the man yanked his arm free, he went rigid above Matt.
He looked up to see a woman at the top of the stairs. It was Elizabeth, and she’d apparently done what Matt couldn’t—zapped Southwell.
Matt yanked the gun from the thug’s limp hand and bashed him on the head with it, then bashed him again. Shoving himself up, Matt staggered toward the steps.
He and Elizabeth met in the middle, clasping each other tightly.
“Thank God you’re all right,” they both said at the same time.
Matt forced himself to ease away. “We need to get out of here. And the women, too.”
“You’re hurt,” Elizabeth breathed as he wavered on his feet.
“I’m mobile,” he answered, because he had to be.
Clinging to each other, they made it to the kitchen. Just as they stepped onto the tile floor, water started gushing down from the ceiling.
“The sprinkler system kicked in,” Matt said. “Maybe it will put out the fire, but the place is still full of smoke.”
“The girls are upstairs,” Elizabeth told him.
“We can’t leave them here,” he answered. When he started up the back stairs, Elizabeth followed. There was no water on the stairs, but as soon as they got to the upper hall, water started pouring down on them again.
“They met you already. Tell them the situation,” Matt said.
“Lang’s dead,” Elizabeth called when she reached the upper floor. “And the house is on fire. We have to get out of here.”
For long seconds, nothing happened.
As Matt started down the hall, a door opened and one of the women stepped out, water pouring down on her and a lamp base in her raised hand. It was clear she intended to use it as a weapon. When she saw Matt’s battered face, she drew in a quick breath.
“The house is on fire. We have to get out of here,” Elizabeth repeated, sending that message to the woman in the doorway and hoping it was reaching the others who must be in there.
The door opened wider, and more faces peeked out.
“Come on,” Elizabeth shouted. “Your friends who were up here are already out of the house. They’re safe.”
As she spoke, she heard a roaring noise behind her and saw flames shooting up the back stairs where there were no sprinklers.
Matt turned and saw the fire. “We have to get out the front door,” he said.
Women soaked to the skin hurried out of the room, and Elizabeth ushered them to the stairs. At the bottom, they stopped to stare at the bodies on the living-room floor.
“The bad man,” one of the girls confirmed.
“And one of those evil guards,” another added.
Matt brought up the rear, herding the women away from the bodies and to the front door. Then from outside, Elizabeth heard the sound of gunfire and knew that the guards were out there—determined to keep everyone in the burning house.
Behind her, she heard Matt issuing hasty instructions.
“No,” she gasped as she looked from him to the line of three men who were about thirty yards away, all facing the door with weapons drawn.
“Can you think of anything else?” he asked, his voice grim.
Nothing came to her, but she still protested. “You’re in no shape to do anything like that.”
“I am if you help me.”
In back of them, water poured down and smoke billowed, making everyone cough. They might all die of smoke inhalation if they didn’t get out.
We couldn’t influence Lang.
His will was too strong. These guys are just hired help.
“Here goes nothing,” Matt muttered as he swiped a hand over his wet face, then stepped toward the door.
“This is Derek Lang. Cease fire,” he called out. “I have to get these women out of here.” He reinforced the words with a silent command, broadcasting the message to the guards outside, and Elizabeth did her best to help, lending him power.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then someone called, “Mr. Lang?”
“Yes. We’re coming out.”
Elizabeth’s heart was in her throat as Matt stepped out, still sending the voiceless message. She continued to help him, praying that the men outside would believe the illusion he was projecting—and that the women behind them wouldn’t question what was going on.
Matt stepped out onto the porch, then turned and gestured to her and the others. “Come on.”
At first, nobody moved. But then a crackling sound on the stairs behind them made them jump. Like the back stairs, the front ones were not protected by the sprinkler system and were burning.
Still projecting to the men outside, Matt walked down the porch steps, and the women followed, with Elizabeth ushering them along.
Then she saw something that made her catch her breath. Figures moved behind the line of men on the lawn. And as she watched, Sabrina and some of the other women sprang from the shadows, moving in unison. Each of them carried a club made from a tree branch. One of them brought the makeshift weapon down on the head of a guard who had kept them from escaping. Others clubbed them as they went down, whacking them on the backs and shoulders The men didn’t have time to fire as they all succumbed.
Matt rushed forward, grabbing automatic weapons from one of the men and then another. Elizabeth snatched up the third gun.
“Get them to the van,” Matt shouted as he stood and covered the women’s escape. “You, too,” he told Elizabeth.
This time she wasn’t willing to go along with his plan. She waited with him.
When one of the guards started to get up, Matt shot at the ground in front of the man, and they all went still. She and Matt backed away. As they got to the trees, they turned and ran.
Elizabeth led the way to the van. As soon as they were all inside, Brenda gunned the engine, and the vehicle rocketed off.
The shelter had brought blankets in case the women needed them, and it was definitely true now. Matt, Elizabeth and the other women who had gotten showered wrapped themselves to keep warm.
They drove around to the road, and as they went past The Mansion’s driveway, they could see that the sprinklers had put out most of the fire, but smoke still poured into the sky.
“I guess The Mansion’s ruined,” Elizabeth said.
“And Derek Lang is out of the picture,” Matt added.
“One of his own men shot him,” Elizabeth said, not explaining that she was the one who had made the voiceless suggestion. And she wasn’t completely sure how she felt about that.
She knew Matt caught her thought as he slung his arm around her and pulled her close.
I left Southwell in the basement,
he told her privately.
He probably didn’t get out. What about Mrs. Vivian?
I don’t know, and I don’t much care. If she’s still alive, she’s out of a job.
Elizabeth rested her head on Matt’s shoulder, glad that they were both out of Lang’s line of fire. Matt slipped his hand under her blanket and stroked up and down her arm, reassuring her as they drove away from the scene of what could have been a total disaster.
“You need medical attention,” she whispered.
“Dr. Delano says I’m all right,” he answered.
What did Southwell do to you?
Kicked me around a little.
He told her about being locked in the basement cell. And she tried to tone down the scene of being tied to the chair and threatened. But Matt caught the gist of what had happened.
The bastard.
He’s dead.
And with the fire out, the cops will be able to figure out that one of Lang’s own men killed him.
Elizabeth looked up to see the other passengers watching them.
“I didn’t think you could do it,” Sabrina said.
“Elizabeth wasn’t going to let you down,” Matt answered. “She was going to rescue you or die trying. And I think you all know it was a close call.”
There were murmurs of agreement around the van.
“I think I forgot to say ‘thank you,’” Sabrina whispered.
“I’m just sorry it took so long to get everyone out,” Elizabeth answered.
They pulled up in back of the shelter, and the women poured out. They all went inside, and the director, a woman named Donna Martinson, came up to them.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did,” she said.
Elizabeth looked down at the blanket and the wet flimsy gown she was wearing. “Actually, there is something you can do. I’d like to dry off and put on something more suitable,” she said.
“Of course. We have clothing ready for the women. You can use the downstairs bathroom.”
“I have my own things. I just need to get them.”
She and Matt both went to his car, where he got out his computer and she got her suitcase. In the bathroom, she quickly took off the negligee and tossed it onto the floor, then put on a bra and panties before donning jeans, a T-shirt, socks and running shoes. When she was dressed, she stuffed the negligee into the trash can and jammed it down, then stood for a moment with her fists clenched. She’d been in Derek Lang’s house of horrors for about an hour, but the women there had been through a much longer ordeal, although they hadn’t been tied up and threatened with torture. At least she hoped not.
She stood for long moments, struggling for calm. She’d been through a lot of terrible experiences in the past few days, but the most recent one was the worst.
When she came out of the bathroom, Donna was waiting for her. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better.”
“Dr. Delano is using one of the offices,” the director said, leading Elizabeth down a short hall.
“Thank you.”
She went in and closed the door. Matt had also changed into the clothes from his bag in the trunk. He had been sitting at the desk with his laptop. He stood quickly, and she looked at the bruises on his face.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Fine.”
She knew the answer was automatic as he came around the desk and took her in his arms.
He didn’t have to ask how she was doing. She knew he was listening to her thoughts. And she was doing the same with him.
They clutched each other tight, both thankful that they had made it out of The Mansion.
I never would have gotten through this without you,
she told him.
Yeah, well, I can’t imagine...
He didn’t finish the thought, but she knew what it was. And she felt the same. Neither one of them could imagine a life that didn’t include the other.
“Are we going to be able to live our lives?” she asked. “I mean, the cops still want to talk to us about Polly.”
“We’ll make sure we can,” he answered with conviction, and she wondered if that was simply wishful thinking.
He caught the question and answered. “I was just writing an email to the Baltimore County detective who was investigating Polly’s death—a guy named Harrison. Unfortunately explaining what’s been happening is a little tricky. But we lucked out with the sprinkler system. The house didn’t burn up and destroy all the evidence.”