“I’ve got to get you out of here,” he’d told her. “Now. Before they come back. They’ll try to stop me, and they would be right to.”
He’d gnawed on the problem as he watched the quartet disappear into the apartment. How could he and Talia leave, either from the back or front of the house, without being seen? Taking any of the cars would result in a chase.
Then he’d remembered something from the floor plan he’d studied before breaking in the first time. “There’s a sizeable unlabeled space beneath the stairs,” he said to Talia. “Storage closet?”
“Safe room.”
“Where’s it accessed?”
“My study.”
“Who knows about it?”
“Jasper and me.”
“Well, unless he’s in it, that’s where we’re going, and we’ve gotta be quick.”
They had rifled a kitchen utility drawer to find a pen, some notepaper, and an envelope. After seeing why he’d requested them, Talia had exclaimed, “You can’t resign!”
“We’ll discuss it later.” He’d hastily assembled the items on the dining table, then hustled her down the hallway and into her study, where he’d drawn up short. “Where is it?”
She stood her ground. “Drex, you can’t throw away your career.”
“I’m not. I’m fulfilling it. How do we get into the safe room?”
Through the window, he’d seen that Mike and Gif had parted company with the officers and were making their way across the expansive lawn toward the house. “Talia? It’s gotta be now.”
She’d hesitated, searching his eyes, then went over to a built-in bookcase and reached between two books. With a metallic click, a section of shelving had popped out a few inches. Drex had propelled her toward it. “Is it ventilated?”
“Yes.”
“Get in.” He’d taken one last glance out the window. His partners were approaching the porch.
Talia had slipped into the space. He crowded in behind her. “How do I shut us in?”
She’d turned to face him, reached around him, and pulled the door closed with a handle that had been digging into his right kidney ever since. Both being breathless by then, he’d asked in a whisper if she was all right.
“A little claustrophobic.”
“Close your eyes.”
“I’m thinking about Marian.”
He’d put his lips to her ear. “Don’t. Just close your eyes. Breathe.”
They’d said no more after that because footsteps were heard thudding upstairs and others approaching the room from the hallway. Judging by the heavy tread, it had been Mike who’d come looking for them in the study. They’d held their breath until they heard him head back down the hallway toward the front of the house, where he and Gif had discovered the items left on the dining table.
Drex still felt a twinge of conscience for hoodwinking them, but they could never be held accountable for something they didn’t know about. He would beg their forgiveness later.
He and Talia had remained sealed in darkness. He, too, had spent some of that time dwelling on Marian Harris’s final minutes. Hours? Who knew how long she had struggled to free herself, to survive.
That was justification enough for what he was doing. It was rash, unadvisable, and irreversible. No apology or rationale would be adequate to pacify either the FBI or the local authorities. But he was prepared to live with the consequences of his action. Whether or not he was wrong about the others, Marian Harris was dead, and now Elaine Conner. He would die before letting Talia be added to their number.
To call this a safe room was inaccurate. It was no larger than a telephone booth. They couldn’t change positions without risking making a sound. The slightest bump, thud, or scrape would carry through the walls and give them away. Because they couldn’t be sure who was inside the house at any given time, they’d had to remain perfectly still.
Time crawled. Sounds reached them, but they were indistinct and not always identifiable. Occasionally they’d caught a word or two spoken by someone in the front rooms, but then there would be stretches when their light breathing was the only sound.
During one of those silences, Talia had whispered, “How long do we have to stay?”