Chương 6
She searched the table.
No key.
The watch was in Voss’s pocket.
The gun was upstairs.
Claire looked at the chain attached to the wall.
Then the folding table.
Then the narrow basement window.
Too small.
Door upstairs.
One route.
She picked up the heavy steel padlock.
The basement door opened.
Claire dropped beside the wall and put her hands together as if still restrained.
Voss descended.
His face was red.
He was holding the watch.
“Your husband thinks I’m an idiot.”
Claire said nothing.
“He says the money’s coming Monday.”
Still nothing.
“Monday.”
He laughed.
Not amused.
“After.”
Claire looked at him.
Voss met her eye.
And she knew.
The schedule had changed.
He had intended to kill her Saturday night.
Now Daniel wanted the payment delayed until after the killing.
Voss looked at the watch.
“He thinks this covers it.”
Claire kept her breathing slow.
“What happens if I die and he never pays you?”
“Not your problem.”
“It becomes yours.”
His eyes hardened.
“You don’t get to negotiate.”
“I’m not.”
“Then shut up.”
He stepped closer.
Claire watched his right hand.
Gun tucked into the back waistband.
Watch in left.
He bent to inspect her restraints.
Claire hit him with the padlock.
Once.
Against the temple.
Voss staggered.
Claire hit him again.
He fell against the table.
She reached for the gun.
He caught her hair.
Claire screamed then.
Not because she chose to.
Because pain ripped across her scalp.
Voss dragged her backward.
She twisted and bit his wrist.
He cursed.
The gun hit the floor.
They both lunged.
Claire’s fingers touched it first.
Voss slammed her hand into the concrete.
She lost it.
He reached.
Claire wrapped the loose plastic restraint around his neck from behind and pulled.
Voss made a choking sound.
He threw himself backward.
Claire hit the wall.
Her grip loosened.
He tore free.
For one suspended second they faced each other on the basement floor.
Both bleeding.
Both gasping.
Voss looked older.
Not frightening.
Not powerful.
Just desperate.
Claire saw his gaze move toward the gun.
She kicked it.
The gun skidded beneath a storage shelf.
Voss dove after it.
Claire ran for the stairs.
She heard him behind her.
She slammed the basement door.
No lock.
She dragged a kitchen chair beneath the knob.
The upper level was not a house.
It was an abandoned restaurant prep building.
Stainless counters.
Grease-stained tile.
Covered windows.
A back exit with a chain around the handles.
Claire searched for another door.
Voss hit the basement door.
The chair jumped.
Claire found a utility drawer.
Screwdrivers.
Pliers.
A box cutter.
She took the box cutter.
Second impact.
Chair leg cracked.
Claire ran to the chained back exit.
Padlock.
No key.
Third impact.
The chair collapsed.
Claire looked toward the front.
A hallway.
An office.
Another door.
Voss came through the basement doorway.
Claire ran.
Her bare feet slipped on tile.
She reached the office and slammed the door.
Locked it.
Voss hit it almost immediately.
“Claire!”
First time he had used her name.
She looked around.
Desk.
Filing cabinet.
Old computer monitors.
Window covered with plywood.
No exit.
Voss hit the door.
Wood splintered around the frame.
Claire gripped the box cutter.
On the desk sat his wallet.
His keys.
And a second phone.
Claire took all three.
The door shook.
She looked at the keys.
Car key.
Padlock key.
Maybe.
She unlocked the office door herself and yanked it open.
Voss had been braced to hit it again.
He stumbled forward.
Claire slashed the box cutter across his forearm.
Not deep.
Enough.
He recoiled.
She ran past him.
Back exit.
Key ring.
First key failed.
Second.
Failed.
Voss came down the hall.
Third.
The padlock opened.
Claire tore the chain free.
Voss grabbed the back of her dress.
Fabric ripped.
Claire shoved through the door.
Cold evening air hit her face.
There was a parking lot.
A white utility van.
And, beyond a wire fence, traffic.
Claire ran.
Voss shouted behind her.
She expected the gunshot.
It did not come.
Maybe he had not recovered the gun.
Maybe he did not want witnesses.
Maybe luck had finally chosen one small thing to give her.
Claire reached the van.
Locked.
She had the keys.
Her hands shook so badly she dropped them.
Voss appeared in the doorway.
Claire abandoned the van.
She ran toward the fence.
Six feet.
Chain link.
She climbed.
Her dress tore higher.
Voss crossed the lot.
Claire reached the top.
A horn sounded from the road.
She swung one leg over.
Voss caught her ankle.
Claire kicked.
He held on.
She kicked again.
Her heel struck his mouth.
He released her.
Claire fell down the far side.
Her shoulder hit dirt.
She rolled.
A pickup truck braked hard on the access road.
The driver leaned on the horn.
Claire stumbled toward it.
The truck door opened.
A woman in scrubs jumped out.
“Oh my God.”
Claire looked back.
Voss stood behind the fence.
Blood at his mouth.
He did not climb.
He turned and walked toward the building.
Claire pointed.
“That man—”
Her voice broke.
The woman caught her.
“Sit down. Sit down.”
“No.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Call police.”
“I am.”
“Now.”
“I’m calling.”
Claire gripped the woman’s arm.
“My husband.”
“What?”
“My husband did this.”
The woman stared at her.
Claire looked toward the parking lot.
The utility van engine started.
Voss drove out the opposite side of the property before the first patrol car arrived.
Officer Maya Brooks was the first officer Claire remembered clearly.
Brooks knelt beside her on the shoulder of the road and spoke in a voice that made no promises.
“You’re safe with us right this second.”
Not you’re safe.
Not it’s over.
Right this second.
Claire trusted her for that.
Officer Hale arrived minutes later.
Paramedics wanted to take Claire to the hospital.
Claire refused at first.
She had found Voss’s watch chain in her pocket.
Not Daniel’s watch.
May you like
That was gone.
Voss had been holding it when she struck him. Somewhere during the struggle, Claire thought it had fallen.
