Angel of the Night by B. W. Battin

Author:B. W. Battin [Battin, B. W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: serial killer thriller, police procedural
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2015-05-18T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

The first problem Janice and Poldoski encountered in locating vacant buildings was that no one kept a list of them. The city kept track of any that had been condemned, real estate agents of most that were for sale. But not all. A few, of course, were being sold privately, by the owner, and no one kept a list of those. Nor did anyone keep track of buildings that were not in use but not for sale either.

On the patchwork list they were able to make up, they found only four places in Dakota Falls that might have airtight compartments: two meat markets, one neighborhood grocery store, and a building that had once housed a fur storage operation. By midafternoon, they had permission to enter the fur storage place and one of the vacant meat markets.

Amy was beginning to awaken, and for some reason, in that hazy state between sleep and consciousness, her mini was briefly rational. The first sensation to pour in on her was heat. She was sticky, sweating. And thirsty, very thirsty. She reasoned that it was afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and that it would be late night before the heat in the building diminished.

Then, as she came closer to being fully awake, she thought of how hard she’d tried to please, to make friends with their captor. And she had pleased; she was sure of it. She had only been put in here so it wouldn’t appear to the others that she was the favorite. That was it. Oh, yes. Soon, the drawer would open, and she’d be freed, rewarded for her loyalty. Oh, yes. Soon. Very soon.

And she wasn’t abandoning the others. No, no, no. She would never do that. Once she was free, she’d go for help. It would be a disloyal thing to do when their captor had trusted her enough to free her, but she would have to. She couldn’t let her little boy and her father stay here. But she’d still be loyal. She’d never reveal the name; she wouldn’t even think it.

Amy was awake now, her mind having risen out of the darkness and silence of slumber. But when she opened her eyes, seeing only more blackness, her ears hearing only more silence, and when she blinked and couldn’t tell she had except for the movement of her lids, she screamed. A long, pitiful wail that began somewhere in the back of her throat, rising in pitch, continuing until she ran out of breath, choking, gasping for air.

A solitary figure standing near the drawers heard the muffled scream, and it answered two important questions. They were still here, in their prison; no one had come here, found them. And they were still alive; the supply of air had not been used up.

Very well. It was time to open some of the drawers and let in some air. But not those in which they lay. No, no. There was no point in disturbing them, and since this appeared to be one big refrigerator with many doors, opening any of the compartments would do.

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