The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

“Still there?”

Remi looked up, saw her friend silhouetted above her on the top deck. “Still here.”

“Might want to move away from the opening in case I spill water on you. It’s a crude system, but try to guide the bucket so it doesn’t hit the mosaic when it lands.” She lifted the pail onto a hook, the rope creaking in the pulley as she turned the crank. The bucket was no more than a few feet down when a loud crack startled them.

“What was that?” Remi asked. Drops of water hit her as the bucket swung high over her head.

It took a moment before Renee answered. “The pulley, I think.”

“Whatever it was can’t be good. Maybe we should skip the water.”

Renee, still holding the rope for the bucket, nodded. But when she tried to straighten up, there was another crack and the water-filled pail rushed downward. Attempting to stop it, she slammed her foot on the coil of rope. It ripped out from beneath her foot, wrapped around her leg, and knocked her over the side of the scaffolding. Suddenly she was the one falling as the bucket flew upward. Remi braced herself in an attempt to break her friend’s fall. But the rope went taut and the woman jerked to a stop, dangling above Remi’s head, too high for her to reach.

“Are you okay?”

“Holy …”

It wasn’t until Renee started spinning that Remi realized the rope wrapped around her leg was the only thing holding her up. “Grab the scaffolding,” Remi shouted.

Renee reached out, caught one of the pipes, and pulled herself to a stop. Several seconds passed before she gave what sounded like a small laugh. “Remember that frat party we went to our first year? This feels like that hangover.”

“It’s going to feel a lot worse if you fall.” Remi pulled out her phone to call Sam. No signal.

“You think that extension cord’s strong enough?”

Remi eyed the length of orange cord hanging down the side of the scaffolding. “Not sure that’s a good idea. Hang on. I’m going to climb up. Maybe I can pull you onto the deck and cut the rope.” But the moment she stepped onto the ladder, she heard another loud crack as dirt and debris fell from above.

She froze. One more step and she’d bring the entire thing down.

CHAPTER FIVE

If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

The moment Sam heard the crash echoing across the field, he whipped around. “What was that?”

“No idea,” Hank said.

Sam raced down the hill, past the water tank, seeing the remnants of an observation deck constructed over a large opening in the ground. “Remi?”

“Down here,” she shouted. “Renee’s caught in the rope. The deck gave way.”

Relief flooded through him on hearing his wife’s voice. When he reached the deck, he tested its surface with one foot. It felt solid and he stepped on, leaning forward to peer in. Several boards were broken near the entrance. A crushed bucket was wedged against a pulley system, its thick rope disappearing below. What he didn’t expect to see was Remi’s friend hanging from that rope, stretched out between it and the ladder like a trapeze artist caught mid-performance.

“LaBelle,” Hank shouted, running toward the deck.

Sam held his hand up. “Stop. I’m not sure how much weight it’ll support.”

Hank halted at the edge. “Is she okay?”

“So far. Do you have any rope?”

He nodded.

“Bring it here.”

Hank ran to his car, unzipped a thick canvas duffel bag in the back, and returned with a rope, which he tossed to Sam. “What can I do?”