Covert Cover-Up, page 7
“Why do you ask?”
“We can move it out of here. Take it somewhere to get it open.” She threw her arms up and let them drop. “I don’t know.”
Katelyn understood why Beck couldn’t trust anyone else with this. Trusting could be both dangerous to Katelyn and Beck, as well as to the person charged with opening the safe. She didn’t need him to tell her again that getting the police involved at this juncture would only muddy the waters.
She was with him—they had to find some hard evidence, no matter how small, to support Beck’s theories about Mia. That would help them stop the madness...and keep them safe. But, honestly, she was more worried about Ollie.
At some point, she feared this would come back to him—the most precious person in Beck’s life. But she kept those words to herself. No doubt, he had already considered that even sending Ollie away wouldn’t stop someone who was determined. In fact, with that thought in mind, she could almost wish that whoever was after the contents of the safe had already retrieved them. Maybe the danger would be over for them.
Beck had pressed his ear against the safe again. He was going to try figuring out the combination.
While he worked on the safe, she pressed her back against the wall and rubbed the tension in her shoulders.
She could hardly believe any of this was happening. If she told Ryan, he would insist she back away and drop the case. Ryan trusted her, but only to a point. He was protective, and she got that. He definitely wouldn’t want her getting involved in something so cloak-and-dagger. And that was just it; Katelyn wanted to believe Beck with everything inside her. Sure, she’d been attacked in her own home, but that could be for the simple reason she’d seen the man behind the mask. That did not necessarily mean that car accident was something more. It didn’t mean that attacker was after the safe, or that Mia was a spy and someone had killed her.
Admittedly, all that could be in Beck’s imagination. Beck believed it, and for now, that was good enough for Katelyn. She would work alongside him and push away the doubt.
But what if she was wrong? What if Beck was actually suffering from mental illness and he was clinically paranoid? She had to consider that reality. The Beck she’d spent the last day with appeared as lucid as anyone she’d ever met. He was strong and trustworthy. Loved his family. But was her heart simply wishing what he said was true because she’d been so hurt in the past?
She sighed. She was no professional if she allowed the events of her past to color her work so spectacularly. Regardless of professionalism, it was because of that hurt that she would do well to ignore her attraction to him—that strong emotional connection that bordered on being overwhelming, as well as that ping of energy that zinged through her every time she got too close. The attraction was nearly impossible to ignore.
But all things were possible with God, and—God, help me—with His help, she could resist Beck Goodwin.
An alarm sounded somewhere, only it was muffled. Was that coming from outside? Some other house?
Katelyn stiffened. “Beck, you hear that?”
“Quiet,” he barked. “You know I can’t do this if you’re going to talk.”
She doubted he could do it, anyway. They had both tried. They would never succeed in the safe-cracking business.
Katelyn headed for the steps out of the basement and as she neared the door, a pungent odor slammed her.
“Smoke, I smell smoke! Beck—it’s the smoke alarms!”
He stumbled away from the safe, a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes. “Let’s get out of here!”
Katelyn grabbed the knob and twisted.
The door was locked!
* * *
Beck’s insides twisted into a tangled, painful knot. He could smell the smoke, too.
Please let it not be my house that’s burning. Though wishing that on someone else wasn’t something Beck wanted, either.
Katelyn stepped aside. Beck grabbed the doorknob and twisted. Stupid, stupid! He shook the knob until his hands ached. Frustration boiled up and he pounded on the door as if someone was on the other side and would come and help them. As if the person who had locked them inside would quickly unlock the door because Beck wanted out.
“What happened? Why won’t it open?”
He ground his molars to keep from blurting out what he thought should be obvious to Katelyn, but maybe she didn’t want to admit it and was hoping he would offer up another explanation for why they were locked in the basement. If he told her what he thought, he would only sound paranoid. He wanted Katelyn to come to her own conclusions, or at least be the first one to say what they were both thinking.
The only explanation was that they had been locked down here deliberately. Whoever locked them in had also set the house on fire.
“Beck, why don’t you answer me? What are we going to do?” Katelyn’s panicked voice yanked back his focus.
“Give me a second.”
He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Why was this happening? If the attacker couldn’t get at the safe, then he didn’t want anyone else getting into it, either, and discovering the contents. That had to be it. But again, if he said those words out loud he would sound like he’d lost his grip on reality...even to himself.
None of that mattered at this moment. Fear swelled in his chest and he glanced at Katelyn. He couldn’t stand to see that same fear reflected in her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of here.” He projected a confidence he didn’t feel as he bounded down the steps.
“Oh, yeah? How?” Katelyn was right behind him.
He searched through the construction materials. Plywood and tools. Hammers, nails, screwdrivers. Power tools. Brooms, mops and rakes clustered together in a corner.
That was it.
He stepped over boxes and a power saw and searched the random tools for one in particular.
An ax. The was the tool of firemen. Beck gripped the old rusty thing he’d found in the basement when he’d cleaned it out, grateful he hadn’t tossed it yet, thinking it had no value for him.
Beck lifted the ax and stared at the rusted head. “This should work.”
Alarms continued to sound in the house. He hoped the fire department was already here and dousing the place with water, and that firemen were already working their way through the house to see if any unfortunate soul had been caught inside and was unconscious on the floor.
He glanced at beautiful Katelyn. He would not wait in hopes they would be found in time. He couldn’t trust that the fire department had been called at all. Clara, the neighborhood watchdog, could be visiting her son, out for dinner with friends, or running an errand.
Katelyn’s eyes widened when he lifted the ax and turned toward her.
“Move out of the way.”
She quickly moved out of his path as he ran back up the steps. The door was at a landing at the bottom of another set of stairs. “I’ll try to hack open the door, but we can’t be sure we’ll find a way out.”
There, he’d told her the truth. He hadn’t sugarcoated their options.
“Okay. You do that. I’ll try to break open one of the windows and call for help since our cells are useless down here.”
Creating an escape window, bringing all the windows to code, had been on his to-do list. This older home had no such window.
Sweat beaded at his temples as he lifted the ax and drove the rusty blade into the thick wood, glad this door wasn’t galvanized steel like his front door. The ax landed in the wood, the action jolting him all the way up his arms to his shoulders. He’d splintered a portion of the door.
He lifted the ax and continued hacking at the door, creating some cracks. The blare of the smoke alarm, no longer muffled, now emphasized their treacherous predicament.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t closed the door while they were down here, and he didn’t think Katelyn had, either. The idea that someone had crept through the house and down the steps to shut the basement door—and lock it—without them even being aware chilled him to the core. Ignited his fury.
He wouldn’t let whoever was after this safe hurt Katelyn.
Beck chopped, chopped, chopped at the door. Wood splintered everywhere, but he kept chopping.
“Beck. Beck... Beck!” Katelyn’s voice broke through the chaos in his mind.
Panting for breath, he dropped the ax at his feet on the top step, along with pieces of wood.
“The door is dead,” she said. “No need to keep hacking.”
He stared through the hole he’d opened up in the door at the glowing landing. “I’m not sure we can get out this way.”
There were no good options.
Beck needed to pray. He was angry and hurt, and he didn’t feel like he could face the Almighty in that condition, but now he was also desperate.
Lord, please help me save her!
“Help! Can someone hear me? Help us!” Katelyn was still at the window. She shouted through the opening that was much too small to escape out of.
But how could anyone help them, even if they heard her cries? Beck was done deliberating about what to do next. It was time for action, so he went back down the steps.
“We have to face the flames, Katelyn. It’s the only way. I’ll go up and check it out first.”
Katelyn grabbed his arm. “No. You can’t.”
“I can’t let you die here.”
EIGHT
Beck shrugged out of her grip. Katelyn watched, disbelieving, as he clomped up the steps toward the hacked open door. He carefully stepped through the jagged, splintered opening.
“Beck, wait! Please don’t go up there.”
He glanced over his shoulder and peeked back through the opening, looking as if he didn’t expect to see her again. Then he continued rising up the stairs until he disappeared into the smoke-filled, glowing, crackling house.
“Are you crazy?” she shouted.
The words had slipped out before she’d caught them. But he was definitely crazy. Still, they had no choice but to try to escape.
Katelyn had no idea if this was the way to go about it, nor did she have the time needed to figure it out. The fire was eating away at the house and getting closer to taking their lives. If they stayed in the basement, eventually the roof above would cave in on top of them—that is, depending on how out of control the fire had gotten.
If the fact that she was already drenched in sweat was any indicator, she might only have a few more moments to live. And in that case, she would die trying.
Here goes nothing. Or everything.
Katelyn took one step forward.
Lord, You say when I pass through the waters, You will be with me. When I pass through the rivers they won’t sweep over me. So now when I pass through the fire, I will not be burned. The flames will not set me ablaze. Let that be true right now. Please protect us!
She took another step. Then another, repeating the verses in her head to give her strength.
Smoke had engulfed the stairwell up to the first floor, and she stepped through the splintered door, into the thick layer of toxic, noxious air.
“Beck!”
Katelyn coughed, but fear choked her even more. Her knees shook. She couldn’t go any farther. To do so would mean her death. Beck... Was he already dead?
Pain exploded in her heart at the thought. Why had he gone up there? To try to save her? Beck had tried to save them both, but he couldn’t have survived.
Katelyn’s knees shook and she couldn’t breathe.
Oh, Lord... When I pass—
Just as she thought she would crumple, a blanketed form rushed out of nowhere toward her. The blanket lifted.
Beck. The strong mountain-climbing man had returned. He yanked the blanket from his body, revealing another blanket underneath, and wrapped her in it before she could protest. The blanket was cool and wet. He kept the other one over himself.
Still, she tried. “Wait! What are you doing?” Coughs racked through her again. No more words could come from her raw, hoarse throat. Beck coughed, too. Neither of them could talk about this until they were out of here.
Wrapped like this, she wasn’t going anywhere, so she stopped fighting. He’d wrapped her before she had a chance to comprehend what he was doing and act on it.
Beneath the wet blanket over his head, he’d covered his mouth and nose with a scarf, and his gaze pierced hers. Fear boiled behind his gray eyes. Fear and determination.
If anyone could get them out of this, Beck was the one person to do it. Beck covered her face, then grabbed her up into his arms and held her against his chest as he climbed back up the stairs. She was wrapped in a cold, wet cocoon.
She buried her face in the blanket and squeezed her eyes shut. Willing Beck to get them out. Willing them to be okay. Willing strength into his limbs and breath into his lungs.
Thank You, God. Beck is the one You sent to walk us through the fires.
She pushed down the panic and calmed her breathing. He was risking his life for her to get her out of here. Pops and cracks filled her ears and closed in on her from every side. Even the cold, wet blanket grew warmer as Beck held her tight against his lean, strong physique, grunting and groaning and coughing. She sensed the tension and anguish rippling through him as he tried to find them a way out.
Fear engulfed her—were they doomed from the start?
Suddenly Beck seemed to stumble. Katelyn braced herself for crashing against a flame-lit wall, but Beck rushed forward. Glass shattered and he tumbled to the ground, then rolled to protect Katelyn. Still, they hit the ground hard and pain ignited through her body as the limited air in her lungs rushed away.
But it was nothing—relief filled her. They were out of the house. Out of the fire and certain death.
Beside her, Beck coughed and hacked.
Her eyes burned and she couldn’t open them. She wanted to see him. To see that he was okay and not burned or injured. But she was powerless to unwrap herself. Katelyn drew in the fresh air. Though it smelled smoky, it was certainly not toxic, like what they’d encountered in the house.
“A little help here?” She croaked out the words, sounding weak and feeble.
Rough hands dragged her away from the heat, and as she struggled, a fireman assisted her out of the blanket. He offered his hand and helped her to her feet.
“Ma’am.” He tried to place an oxygen mask over her, but she pushed it away.
“Beck. Where is he?”
“Who?”
“The man who saved my life. He got me out of there.”
The fireman shook his head. “I don’t know. Someone had to have brought you out. You were wrapped like a burrito.”
“Could he have gone back inside?” Concern overwhelmed her. Where had he gone?
“Is someone else in the house?” the fireman asked.
Water from a hose rained down on the house. “Not that I know of. I mean, his son is staying somewhere else...”
It hit Katelyn that she didn’t know this man in the fireman gear. Maybe he wanted information. Now she was thinking like Beck—completely paranoid and suspicious.
Katelyn scrambled farther away and stared at the house engulfed in flames. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Are you okay?” The face asking the question didn’t register. Then finally she realized her brother was the one shaking her shoulders. He’d replaced the fireman. “Katelyn, are you okay?”
“No. I mean, yes. But, Beck... He saved me. We think he might have gone back inside.”
Apprehension carved deeper lines into Ryan’s features, then a scowl formed. “Why would he do that?”
The safe...
But she kept that to herself. Telling Ryan wouldn’t help either of them right now. What did any of it matter if Beck went back inside that house and died tonight?
Katelyn dropped to her knees and watched the flames amid the water spilling onto the disintegrating structure. An explosion boomed and light flashed. Ryan dropped to the ground next to her and held her. Together they watched the roof collapse.
The sky flashed, and she thought it was another explosion, but thunder rumbled. Drops of water hit Katelyn’s forehead. She looked up, expecting to see a hose flying in the wrong direction.
“It’s raining. Yes, it’s raining, Katelyn.” Ryan pumped his fist. “We haven’t had rain in much too long. Thank You, God!”
She covered her eyes. “He saved me, Lord...” He can’t be dead. He just can’t be dead.
Arms gathered her against a broad chest and Katelyn let the rain join her tears.
“Katelyn, it’s okay.”
That voice. His voice. She pushed back from that chest to look up into Beck’s gray eyes, rivulets of rain washing down his face.
She had thought Ryan was comforting her. She glanced around and spotted him now talking to a fireman. She focused back on Beck. “I—I thought you were dead. If you didn’t go back into that house, then where did you go?”
He cupped her face and stared into her eyes, oblivious to the rain. The dying fire lit his drenched hair and face. Katelyn didn’t care that others watched the two of them. At this moment in time, she only cared about Beck. She held the connection as long as she could. Life could be snatched away in milliseconds, and tragically. Or someone could give their life to save another’s.
Katelyn had thought she’d lost Beck.
“I’m sorry I left you, Katelyn.” He rubbed his thumb against her cheek. Emotion flared in his warm, searching gaze, which seemed to sweep through her soul. “Firemen had arrived. I knew you were safe. I skirted the houses to watch for myself.”
She nodded. “You mean you were looking for the person who deliberately locked us in the basement and set fire to the house.”
His lips smiled as a laugh burst from his chest. “Yes.”
