“Try this,” Kara said. She reached down and picked up what looked like a broomstick without the sweeper. It snagged on the debris. She yanked it and Matt heard a click, so soft he wondered if he imagined it.
“Wait,” he said but it was too late. Kara had freed the stick, and at the same time a rumbling directly above them had Matt instinctively moving away from the window.
A crunch, apop!, and glass shattered.
“Run!”
The ceiling above groaned. Dust sifted down in lazy spirals before the floor above gave way with a deafeningcrash. A rotted support beam dropped like a guillotine, slamming onto the floor where Matt had just been.
They ran through the maze of debris, Matt’s calf burning, Kara swearing as she stumbled over furniture. Thick dust and chunks of plaster fell over them as they made it back to the fork in the hall. Another groan, like the sound of machinery slowly stopping, and more tiles fell from the ceiling behind them.
Then silence. Quiet except for his pounding heart. He grabbed Kara. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“That wasn’t a collapse. That wastriggered.”
He agreed. There was no other explanation. Not in light of what they had already been through.
Kara’s voice was borderline panicked. “Someone set this up. They’re watching. Playing with us.”
“It was a trap. I don’t think they’re watching. We moved something and then...” He didn’t have to finish his sentence; Kara had lived through it with him. One saving grace of that collapse—it let in more light. That gave him a bit of hope.
“It’s a game, we’re the pawns, they’re going to kill us.”
“No. We’re going to get out.” He forced himself to sound strong though he was terrified that Kara was right. “Are you hurt? Talk to me, Kara. Were you injured?”
“I just... I just need a minute. Okay?” She was shaking. He was, too.
“Take as much time as you need, Kara.”
She sat down and leaned against the wall.
Matt sat down next to her.
“I don’t want to die here,” she whispered.
“We’re not going to die. I promise you.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“We’ll take five minutes.”
“Thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I need five minutes, too.”
He needed more than five minutes, but he feared the longer it took for them to find a way out, the greater chance they would, in fact, die here.
8
Catherine’s head was splitting by the time she and Sloane arrived at the Flagler County Sheriff’s Department Monday afternoon. Michael and Ryder were going straight to the resort, and Jim was heading to the crime scene lab to learn anything they might have found in the room. No one had spoken on the plane, each of them wrapped up in their thoughts and concerns, rereading files and notes and trying to figure out what happened to Matt and Kara. What had they missed. Where were they taken.
What did I do wrong?Catherine thought miserably.What didImiss?
Detective Bianca Fuentes and DA John Anson greeted them when they walked into the conference room. Neither looked happy.
“We have no physical evidence tying Reid to any of the murders,” Anson said. “So far his phone records and financials are clean. We’re still going through them, but this is a complete disaster.”
Catherine couldn’t help but recognize that on Friday, Ansonwas on top of the world, confident his team would pull together evidence to seal the case. Now he sounded defeated.
