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So maybe the people, almost getting caught, had worked out for them.
“Was it McDades that attacked you? Were they trying to send a message?”
“It wasn’t McDades,” Sersha muttered.
“One of the guys was killed, wasn’t he? It was horrific. Was that Vex? Was he mad the guy hurt you?”
“It wasn’t Vex.” Sersha let her go to start trying doors again. “Help me find the right place.”
Some rooms were dark, lit only by the intermittent pulse of those lights. Some contained furniture, boxes, no people, no chance of… The next door was black and heavy, not like the others.
They made eye contact, sharing the thought. A different door could mean different contents.
The handle gave. The light inside was still red, but there was something else too. Half a dozen lit candles flickered on the floor around the perimeter of—
“Oh my God,” her words came out on their own.
The shock was just too… A woman, bent over, locked in something akin to medieval stocks. Naked. Squirming and mumbling.
“Hey,” Sersha said, rushing over to crouch by the woman’s face. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Sersha removed a blindfold and then a gag. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
“How?” the stranger’s voice rasped. “Who are you? What—”
“We’re the good guys,” Sersha said, rising to full height, glancing around. “Does it need a key?”
Springing to action, she went to examine the end of the contraption. “No, it’s just a…”
Sliding back the bolt, she raised the heavy wood with Sersha’s help.
“Who are you?” the woman asked again, struggling to stand straight, squeezing her bruised wrists.
“We’re here to help,” she said.
“We have to get out of here.”
This wasn’t Yvonne. The brunette didn’t match any picture she’d seen. Maybe she wasn’t one of the abducted women. That didn’t mean she didn’t deserve to be saved.
“What’s your name?”
“Marseille,” she whispered, moisture filling her eyes.
“Do you know where they’re keeping anyone else?”
“There are other women upstairs. I don’t know what floor, I…” the woman said, her dry voice breaking. “They make these videos and…”
She wobbled, her eyes closed, and she grabbed the stocks for balance.
“It’s okay,” Sersha said, catching the woman in a sheet from… somewhere. “The building is on fire. We have to get out.”
“The others?” she asked.
“One at a time,” Sersha said, guiding the woman to the door. “Get moving, Stratford.”
The others. Yvonne. Finding this woman proved focusing on the Carlyle was justified. Torture happened there, why not murder too? But, as a structure, it was too big, too much for them to search while people were scrambling. On their own anyway.
Going with them, she helped hold the rescued woman up to keep her moving.
“We should find a back way out.”
