Presumed Guilty by Gerritsen Tess

Author:Gerritsen, Tess [Tess Gerritsen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romace
ISBN: 9781408913154
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd.
Published: 2009-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHASE pounded desperately at the hatch. A board splintered, but the barrier held. “Someone’s nailed it shut!” he yelled. “Keep calling for help!”

She screamed, again and again, until her voice cracked, until she had almost no voice left.

She heard, in the distance, the sound of a dog barking, and Mr. Lanzo’s far-off shouts. She tried to shout back. All she could manage was a pitifully weak cry. There was no answering call. Had she imagined the voice? Or couldn’t he hear her?

Even if he did, would he track her screams to this small opening facing the garden? Safety lay so close, yet was so unreachable. If she stood on tiptoe she could actually poke her hand through the shards of broken glass, could feel the soil beneath her fingertips. Just inches away would be her beloved delphiniums, her newly planted violas….

An image of her garden, of rich, moist earth and a freshly tilled flower bed suddenly flashed into her mind. Hadn’t she just expanded that bed? Hadn’t she used a pickax to break up the sod? The pickax— where did she leave it? She remembered laying it against the side of the house—

Near the cellar window.

With her bare fist she broke away the last shards of glass. Something warm ran down her arm. Blood, she thought with a strange sense of detachment. But no pain—she was too panicked to feel anything but the desperate need to escape the flames. She reached through the open window and ran her fingers along the outside wall. Nothing on the right, just the rough clapboard shingles above a granite foundation. She shifted to the left side of the window, swept her hand along the outside frame and touched warm metal. The pickax head!

She gripped it so tightly her fingers cramped. Painfully she managed to slide the heavy iron head sideways, in front of the window. With a little wriggling she maneuvered first the sharp point, then the blade end, through the window opening.

The pick landed with a hard clang on the concrete floor.

Coughing and gasping, she dragged the tool into the blinding smoke. Already, flames were engulfing the floorboards above her head. “Chase!” she cried. “Where are you?”

“I’m here!”

She started toward the sound of Chase’s voice but halfway across she lost her bearings. The whole room seemed to be moving around her like some crazy circus ride. I can’t faint now, she thought. If I do, I’ll never wake up. Already her knees were giving way. How she needed a breath of fresh air, just one! She sank to the floor. The concrete felt blessedly damp and cool against her face.

“Miranda!”

The sound of Chase’s voice seemed to jump-start some last internal surge of strength. She struggled back to her knees. “I can’t—can’t see you….”

“I’ll find you! Keep talking!”

“No, we’ll both get lost! Stay by the hatch!” She began to crawl, moving in the direction of his voice, dragging the pickax behind her. The sound of the fire above them had grown to a roar.

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