Protective Duty (Love Inspired Suspense), page 11
Clear.
Was her imagination wreaking havoc with her? With everything she’d endured in the past year and especially the past couple of weeks, it wouldn’t surprise her. Keeping her back to the lockers, she inched down another row and cleared the aisles until she’d been through all seven.
Straight ahead was the steam room; wisps of air slipped like fog from one of the cracked double doors.
She swallowed and trained her gun on the opening.
Might as well clear it and give her mind some peace. The sense of being watched heightened; her pulse pounded at her temples.
Using her foot, she kicked the white towel obstructing the door from closing, and stretched it open farther. Steam poured out, blurring her vision.
“FBI, anyone in there?”
Nothing but the sound of the water running in the sink on the other side of the room and the hiss of steam.
She stepped inside, glued her back to the wall. Double rows of wooden benches stretched across two walls and a few towels had been left inside. She released a pent-up breath.
The sound of the door opening had her swinging around. She pointed her weapon at her attacker.
“Whoa!” Eric raised his hands. “Put that thing away. You didn’t hear me call out for you? For anyone?”
Bryn nearly collapsed on a bench. She was losing it, creating prowlers around every corner. Frightening memories and the latest attempts on her life fueling her imagination.
“Sorry.” She holstered her weapon. “No. Was there? Anyone in here?”
Eric closed the distance between them, the door slowly shutting again. “No. It’s empty. Just water running from a sink. What are you doing in here? It’s hot as all get out.”
“Said the man who wants to move to Florida.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “I thought someone might be in here. I’m jumpy, to put it mildly.”
“You have good reason. I’m jumpy myself.”
Bryn forced a smile. “Let’s get out of this place. It’s too hot.”
“Mmm. And my Twizzlers might melt.” Eric took her hand, but she jerked away.
“Did you hear that?” Bryn whispered. “Sounded like someone is at the door.”
Eric returned the whisper. “No.” Neither moved. Bryn heard Eric’s gun slip from his holster. If he didn’t hear anything, why draw his weapon?
A sound of metal scraping at the fogged door made Bryn jump. “That noise,” Bryn hissed.
Eric grabbed the handle and pushed. “It’s—it’s jammed.” He rammed his shoulder into it repeatedly.
Steam shot from the top vents. “Eric, can you control the steam level from in here?”
Eric rammed the door again. “No. It’s set on a timer, but you can adjust it manually...on the outside.”
Bryn reached for her phone. No signal. “My cell won’t work! Try yours. We can call the front desk to come get us out.”
Eric sighed. “No can do. They don’t allow cell phones in the locker room. Pervs and pics and all. They scramble the signal in case someone doesn’t adhere to the rules. My phone won’t work, either.”
“What happens if it gets cranked and we can’t get out?” Bryn’s stomach quivered.
“I don’t want to find out.”
But they might have to. Someone had locked them in and turned up the heat. Someone who might know too much steam and humidity could do dangerous things to their bodies. Dehydration for one.
Someone like a doctor.
“Do you think Julian Proctor is in the clubhouse?”
“No.” Eric slammed his shoulder into the doors again, then shook out of his jacket and tried again. “I know he is. I talked to him.”
Steam continued to consume the room until Eric’s hazy face was completely covered. Nothing but humid air suffocating them. Bryn shucked out of her coat. “Can we shoot our way out?”
“Do you want to risk a bullet ricocheting in this sweatbox? Not to mention going deaf.”
The thought of a bullet ripping through her flesh, again, sent a wave of nauseous shivers through her body. She bent at the knees. “We have to get out of here.”
“Aware of that.” Eric banged on the door and hollered for help.
“Give up. I didn’t hear you calling my name. No one is going to hear your call for help unless they’re standing at the door. Besides, it’s clear the women’s area is empty.”
Eric muttered under his breath. “When we get out of here, I’m going to personally put my fist through the doctor’s face.”
“What did he say?” Bryn joined Eric ramming the door. “When you talked to him.” Sweat slicked down her back like sheets of water, her hair matted to her neck and her pants glued to her legs. “Isn’t there a manual button or emergency switch that will open the door?”
Eric began feeling along the far wall. Bryn took the opposite side.
“He says he doesn’t personally know Rusty Beckham, just bailed him out to avoid a tainted reputation, but he admitted to using Grass Is Greener. Then he basically told me I had squat and to go back to golfing.”
“I’m not buying that. They’re in this together. Somehow.” Bryn met Eric in the middle. No emergency button.
Eric felt her face like a blind man, sliding her hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ears. “We’ll get out of here.”
“How can you stay so calm?” Bryn’s blood whooshed in her ears, but his soothing tone relaxed and gave her hope.
“Because I’d never let anything happen to you, Bryn. And I’m sorry about my father. That you had to hear that.”
So was she. But she wasn’t going to apologize for her outburst. “If someone doesn’t come, we’re in trouble. We may have to risk putting a bullet through the door.”
She pushed on the handles, turned her body into a battle-ax and went to work on breaking down the door. Eric’s hand rested on Bryn’s soaked shoulder. “You know you’re right. You are better than me.”
“What?” Bryn’s head had turned fuzzy. “Better than...” It dawned. She had told Eric’s dad that. “I don’t think that. I was mad at your dad.” She pounded on the door and gave up. It was no use. They were going to dehydrate, and then who knew what it might do to their oxygen levels. “I’m sweating bullets here.” God, please get us out of here. I know I’ve not been speaking much...okay at all to You. But if not for me for Eric.
“I know it’s not the time or place, but I’m proud of you and who you’ve become, Bryn. I don’t think the old Bryn would have ever stood up to Brooks Hale.”
Probably not. She had changed. Been forced to. “Well, thank you. You’re really good at your job. I don’t think I’m better. Honestly. I mostly wanted to tick off your dad.”
The bench creaked. Eric had stood on it and was feeling around the ceiling. “Mission accomplished. He was thoroughly ticked.”
Bryn sank onto the bench. “Eric, I’m light-headed.”
“Well, you haven’t had time to recover from the attack at the Grass Is Greener. Put your head between your knees and don’t think of clear mountain streams.”
Bryn did as he asked and thought of bubbling brooks. Alaskan glaciers. Her throat ached from dryness.
“Ha! A Jedi knows.”
* * *
Bryn’s head popped up. Or it looked like it did. “What? What does a Jedi know?”
“Are you admitting I’m a Jedi?” Bryn was on the edge, and if he lost his cool—irony right there—she’d wither. Whatever he had to do to keep her preoccupied, he’d do it, even if it meant tossing out movie references, picking at her to rile her up, teasing or flirting. But his stomach was wound tighter than a T-shirt during the spin cycle, and he was light-headed, as well. His shirt and jeans clung to him like a second skin. He was soaked through and willing to give up his entire inheritance for a drink of water. He’d never related to Esau in the Bible more in his whole life.
“I’d admit you were king if you know a way out.”
“Okay, admit it, then.” He pushed on the grate above him until it gave way and clattered to the floor.
“What was that?” Bryn stood and looked up. “Ventilation?”
“We’re going up and out, babe.”
Babe. He bit his tongue and regretted the endearment. It had slid out too easily. Bryn didn’t acknowledge it. She climbed on the bench next to him.
“Okay, then.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like I want to crawl out of here and stop these guys. If we don’t, who knows what they’ll do next.”
Eric was afraid to find out. “We will. It’s a jump, so...” He placed his hands on her waist. The fact that she was covered in sweat didn’t stop his heart from pounding harder or the zip of awareness in the air between them.
Her breath released in a clipped pant. From the lack of air or from his touch? Couldn’t go there.
“On three, jump, and I’ll boost you up.”
Bryn turned, her nose inches from his. Even with the sweat, she smelled like an orange Creamsicle. Up close, through the steam, he watched as her eyes trekked to his lips, as she bit her own and then made eye contact with him. “This is the fourth time you’ve saved my life.”
What he would give to kiss her. His inheritance. Forget the water. He wanted to drink her in. All her warmth, her goodness and kindness. Her sincerity. “Well,” his voice erupted huskier than he wanted, “let’s see where that duct leads us.”
They stood gazing at each other, a moment passing between them he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Didn’t want to. If they weren’t about to melt, he’d stay here this way forever. “Ready?” he breathed.
She nodded and swiveled back around. On three, she jumped, and he lifted her into the ductwork. Didn’t take too much effort; Bryn had powerful swimmer’s legs.
When she was in the duct, she hollered, “I can’t see anything, but there’s room for you.”
Eric hoisted himself up and fidgeted in his pocket for the tiny flashlight he kept. He switched it on. “You’re taking the lead. Here.”
He shimmied and wiggled his way through the ventilation, following Bryn. “I don’t see any grates to knock out so we can swing into open space. Left or right?”
“You want to flip a coin?”
“What happened to your Jedi sense?”
He laughed. “That’s um, Spidey sense, Bryn. For as many TV shows and movies as you watch, you don’t quite know your facts.”
“Right it is.” Bryn shifted right.
Eric followed suit. It wasn’t exactly cool in the ducts, but it was better than the steamy humidity. “You know we can’t prove Julian locked us in the steam room. And whatever he used to jam us in there will doubtfully have prints.”
“Don’t remind me. I’ve already thought of that. Grate!” Bryn punched it until it fell into the floor. She dropped below, and Eric edged over the open space, then copied her.
They stood in a storage locker full of towels and sports equipment. “Cozy,” Eric said.
Bryn shook her head, unlocked the door and turned the knob. She laid her head on the door and groaned.
“What?” Eric turned the knob. Must be padlocked from the outside. “Seriously. You broke us out to lock us in a storage facility?”
Bryn peered up at the grate. “I cannot believe this.”
Eric’s muscles ached. He wanted a cold drink and a cold shower. Instead, he grabbed a towel and dried his soaking head, face and neck. Bryn snatched one and did the same.
A clank came from the other side of the door, then a click sounded and it opened.
A college-age dude stood, mouth hanging open, padlock in hand. “How did you get—what are you doing in here?”
Eric took Bryn’s towel and handed both to the kid. “You were out of towels in the locker room.” He strode past the guy, and Bryn fell into step with him.
They were free for the moment but not out of the woods yet. Someone wanted Bryn dead and maybe even him now. He hadn’t taken Julian’s words lightly.
“Let’s get crime techs out here to dust that door for prints and figure out how we got locked inside.”
“Can we get something to drink first?” Bryn smirked as they walked through the halls, members gawking at their sweat-drenched clothing.
“Absolutely.” He slipped in the lounge, grabbed two waters from the cooler, came out and tossed her one. They entered the locker room and waited on the techs to remove the barbell—with two hundred pounds of weights screwed onto the ends—that had been wedged between the two metal door handles. By the time they reached the Durango, they’d sucked down two bottles of water apiece.
They hadn’t tracked down Julian Proctor because Edgewood kept all things private. No video cameras. Not even in the parking lot. No evidence.
The biting wind was a burst of relief on his hot skin, but soon it turned to chill bumps, leaving a film like after a good workout. On the way to Bryn’s, neither spoke much. He turned into her drive. Holt’s car wasn’t there. “You’re not going in alone.”
“I don’t really want to if I’m being honest.”
Eric was scared to death to let her leave. “I’ll help you clear the house and come back after I shower. You wanna grab dinner?”
Bryn rubbed her lips together and averted her gaze. “I—I don’t think so. Not tonight. I appreciate you clearing the house, and if you want to send an unmarked car... I’d be grateful. Or I can call one in myself.”
Dad’s words had made a direct hit on Bryn’s heart. Eric wanted to pummel the wheel. But maybe a night apart to think through things was wise. “I can do it. I’ll do it now.” He made the call while they sat inside the car.
Bryn grabbed her purse. “I...”
What? Something flashed in her eyes, and he desperately wanted to hear her say it didn’t matter what his dad thought. That after today she’d realized she hadn’t stopped caring about him, hadn’t stopped loving him. But instead she shook her head and climbed out of the car.
At the front door, she pulled her gun. “You don’t think this might be a little absurd?”
“We were almost steamed to death. I now know what broccoli feels like.”
Bryn didn’t laugh, but she nodded and let out a whoosh of air as she entered the house. “Clear.” Newton barked and clawed at the puppy gate penning him into the kitchen. “Just a minute, little guy.”
Eric finished the living room and kitchen. “Clear.”
Bryn entered her bedroom and bathroom. “Clear.”
“You check under the bed?” Eric asked.
Bryn snorted. “You serious?”
Eric checked under her bed. “Clear-ish. What is all that junk under there?”
“I have no idea.”
“I’m going to clear the garage.”
Bryn was already opening the back door to let the pooch out. When Eric came back in, he sat at the kitchen table. “I’m not staying. Just waiting on you to get the dog back inside and lock the door.”
“I’m safe now. It’ll be okay. Plus the unmarked car will be here soon.” She didn’t appear too convinced. “Go home and peel out of those clothes, take a shower and crawl into bed. That’s what I plan to do.”
“Well, can I get a drink of water first? My throat is still dry.”
Bryn scratched Newton’s ears. “Bottles in the fridge.”
Eric opened the fridge and grabbed a couple. “Get some rest, okay?”
She gave a tight smile. “Sure.”
“You need anything, call me.” He hesitated leaving her. But the extra measure of security would be here soon. “Keep your gun on you. I don’t like leaving, Bryn. Too much has happened. I’m sick over walking out that door.”
“I know. The house is secure. I’ll keep my gun. And I’ll call you if I need you. I promise.”
“Not after the fact.” He silently prayed there wouldn’t be an after-the-fact reason to call.
“I promise.” Bryn walked him to the door.
Outside, his phone rang.
Angela.
“Hey, Ang.”
“I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have texted him back but...”
Eric glanced down at his damp clothes and sighed. “I’m on my way. Hang tight.”
TEN
Bryn stood in front of Dr. Warner’s tank, watching tropical fish swim without a care in the world. Some of the smaller fish darted in and out of the pirate ship as if playing tag.
Dr. Warner sat on the couch wearing charcoal-gray slacks, a black button-down shirt—starched and ironed, rolled to his elbows—a smile on his face and every auburn hair in place.
She’d updated him on the case and what happened at the golf club—only because he’d know it anyway from the reports—but she’d revealed nothing personal. She’d told him she’d do better. This wasn’t better. Bryn had been failing. The killer stayed a step ahead of her and continued to terrorize and attack her. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep a brave exterior. Inside, she was crumbling. With every new assault, Ohio’s nightmare crept back up from buried places. She continued to misplace things and forget. This couldn’t go on much longer.
“I’d love to jump in that tank and swim with the fish. Just swim and swim and swim. It’s so quiet under the water. Peaceful.” Ironic thought since the victims had drowned. That wouldn’t have been peaceful or quiet. Drowning was a violent death, one that would have been fought tooth and nail.
“I think you’d disrupt their environment.”
“I met with SAC Towerman. I have to report to him every morning and each evening, as you’re well aware,” she muttered. Today’s conversation had sent her over the edge. He’d shoved her into the field against what he called his better judgment. And now he wanted to pull her back and put in another agent. After all Bryn had done and accomplished, she deserved to see this through. But Dr. Warner’s notes had obviously made it to Towerman’s desk, and they hadn’t been in her favor. So much for opening up to him. Clearly that hadn’t worked.
