True Blue (39 page)

She started to get up and then quickly realized she was in a confined space. A very cold confined space.

“Oh shit!”

She felt around in the total darkness, her hands bumping into the smooth frigid surfaces. She scrambled in her pocket, found her penlight, and turned it on. As soon as the illumination confirmed where she was, Mace groaned. She pushed hard against the door with her shoulder. It barely budged. She knew why. The chain. Just like Diane. Only she was already dead.

And I will be very soon unless I get the hell out of here.

She reached down and unbuckled the belt that she’d gotten from Binder’s weapons shop. It had a very special clasp to it. A few seconds later she’d pulled the four-inch knife free from its holder hidden in the elongated metal buckle. She angled her body around and slipped the blade in the slit where the door met the frame of the appliance. There was a molded plastic shelf unit built into the door and the supporting frame for this was right in her way. Yet she managed to work around it and finally reached the flex strip that created a vacuum seal when the door was closed. She inserted the blade in the slit between the two strips and maneuvered it around. If she levered hard enough, she could feel a trace of air. She pushed very hard once and with a sucking sound the vacuum seal broke slightly. Now she could see a sliver of semidarkness, which represented the more illuminated space outside of the death trap she was in.

But a sliver wouldn’t cut it. It didn’t let in nearly enough air. She was already shaking with the effort of maintaining the break in the seal. A second later her strength failed and the opening resealed itself. Okay, if she didn’t suffocate to death the cold would do her in. Would Roy come looking for her when she didn’t show? He knew where she was. But it would take time. Perhaps hours, when she had air maybe for another few minutes. Her chest started heaving as her lungs sought out every precious molecule of oxygen. Her mind started to fog up, signaling the lungs that these molecules were far from enough to keep everything going.

The insulation strip!

Holding the penlight between her teeth, she began hacking at it with her knife. The blade struck through it easily and it came away in long strips. Very soon she could feel the air start to flow in more steadily. And if she wedged her head against the door, she could actually see outside. She poked the blade through this new opening and lifted it up and down. On the downward stroke it hit the chain. There was no way she could saw through the chain with the knife in less than a day if at all. But at least she could breathe. Now the issue was the cold; she was still freezing to death. She looked up and saw it built into the top of the fridge’s interior: the temperature dial. It was set on four. Seven was the coldest, she quickly discovered. She reached up and dialed it back to one, the warmest. She had no idea in refrigerator technology how “warm” the number one setting would be, but she didn’t want to find out it was still in hypothermia range.

Mace started rocking her body front to back. The Amana was a tall appliance, and she was betting there wasn’t much in the lower freezer section to anchor it. As much as the confined space would allow her, she kept rocking. She’d hit one side with her legs and then slam against the other side with her back. Very quickly her entire body felt like she’d been hit by a car, but she kept going. She could feel the Amana start to lean a bit, to the right and then to the left. As it kept going, the appliance started to walk, like a washing machine out of control. Encouraged by this, she started flinging herself back and forth with renewed energy.

One last smash against the molded plastic with her combat boots and the Amana finally toppled over sideways. Mace braced herself for the impact, which was easy enough to do since she was wedged in. Still, when the fridge hit the concrete floor, her head banged against the hard interior wall right where the bump on her noggin was and she felt herself black out for an instant.

But she’d accomplished her goal. She could no longer hear the slight hum of the Amana’s motor. The power cord had come out of the socket. Now she had air. And she would soon have warmth. But she was still trapped. She had hoped that the collision with the floor might have caused the chain to slip off, but no such luck. One push against the door told her that. She looked down at the molded plastic floor. Below that was the freezer compartment. The chain couldn’t be around that door too. She started stomping her feet. The floor was hard, but she could feel it give just a bit.

She worked her body around so that she was nearly upside down. Taking the knife, she started hacking at the plastic but couldn’t find traction as the blade just skidded off the smooth surface. She turned back around so that she was sitting up in the box and looked around. She grabbed a portable shelf off the doorframe and pointed the knife into the floor, then put her foot on top of the handle and pushed down with as much force as she could, lifting her butt off the interior floor and pressing her back against the top of the box to provide more leverage. Twice the knife slipped out, but the third time she felt it bite into the plastic and stick there. She took the shelf and started whacking the butt of the knife with it. She didn’t have much room to operate, so the swings were shortened, but after a few minutes she could see that the blade was now two inches deep in the plastic floor. She raised herself up, put her foot on top of the handle, and steadily pushed down, her back flat against the ceiling of the fridge to give her additional downward force. The knife slowly pushed through the floor. When it hit the hilt of the blade it stopped.

Mace moved her foot away and with much effort she flipped over and started to saw away at the floor, the blade moving centimeters as it cut into the hard plastic. She withdrew the blade and, using the same stick and pound method, made similar cuts in four other spots. When that was done she slipped the knife back in the belt clasp, rose up again, and started stomping in the middle of all the cuts, her back so tight against the ceiling of the fridge that she felt her spine would snap.

She wasn’t sure how long it took, but she felt the floor finally give. A few seconds later the plastic cracked in one spot and then another. A minute later a whole section of it tilted upward. She threw her weight at the spot opposite this and the entire floor broke away and heaved up like a sheet of ice. She fell through this opening and gasped as a jagged edge of hard plastic ripped into her thigh; now warm blood flowed into the cool interior.

She carefully worked her body downward, keeping as far away from the torn edges of the plastic as she could. Her feet hit the freezer door and she kicked it open. She kept sliding downward until she cleared the floor of the fridge unit and her head and torso were in the freezer compartment. Then her feet were out on the concrete floor and soon the rest of her was too.

She sat there for a minute, her head and lungs pounding and her stomach churning. Then she rose on shaky legs and looked around. She slipped out her precious knife and held it in a defensive position. She doubted whoever had stuck her in the death box was waiting around for the finale, because she’d made so much noise he would’ve come running to finish her off. Yet after her narrow escape she was leaving nothing to chance. After she saw the blood pooling on the floor she found a rag and made a crude bandage for her leg wound. Then she found her phone where it had been tossed, and called Roy. He was already on his way downtown because she’d never shown up at Altman’s.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said after listening to her woozy account. “Call the cops right now.”

This time Mace did exactly what he told her to. Within three minutes two patrol officers had kicked open the door to the fourth floor calling out her name. Three more cops joined them a few seconds later. Two minutes after that Beth Perry came flying up the stairs. She walked directly over to her sister and wrapped her arms around her.

Mace felt the tears slide down her cheeks as she hugged her sister back, as hard as she could. It was like she was twelve years old again. She had been wrong. She still needed to be held sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. Just like everybody else.

Beth called out to her officers, “Is this floor secure?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Then search the rest of the building. Leave a man posted to this door. I’ll stay with her. And call an ambulance.”

The men headed out.

Mace felt her legs start to give out. Beth seemed to sense this too and half carried her over to a plastic crate turned upside down and sat her down. She knelt in front of her, her gaze switching to the remains of the fridge and then back at Mace. The tears started trickling down Beth’s face as she gripped her sister’s hand.

“Damn it, Mace,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t see who did it?”

She shook her head. “Happened too fast.”

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m okay, Beth.”

“You’re
getting
checked out. You’ve got a knot the size of a golf ball on your head. And your right leg is covered in blood.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go.”

“And on the ride over you’re going to tell me exactly what is going on.”

Moments later Roy came bursting through the door, the officer posted at the door tightly gripping his shoulder.

“Mace!” yelled Roy. He tried to rush to her but the cop held him back.

“It’s okay,” said Beth. “I know him.”

The man let Roy go and he sprinted across the room and put his arm around Mace. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”

Beth rose and took a step back.

“I’m all right, Roy,” said Mace.

“But we’re still taking her to the hospital,” said Beth. “And you can ride with us, Kingman. I know you’re up to your wingtips in this too. And I want to hear everything.”

She grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to stare at the trashed Amana.

“Too close, Kingman. Way too damn close.”

“It is,” Beth and Roy said simultaneously.

Her leg stitched up, a bandage on her head, and a prescription for pain meds written, they left the hospital in the early morning hours. Roy and Mace had told Beth some of what had been going on during the ride over, but now she insisted on driving them back to Abe Altman’s so they could tell her the rest. Mace’s Ducati had been picked up by a police flatbed and also driven over to Altman’s.

In the guesthouse, they spent another hour bringing the police chief up to speed on their findings.

“We’ll get a BOLO out on Ned Armstrong right now,” said Beth, and she took a moment to make this call. After she’d relayed the order, she said, “He may have been the one who attacked you.”

“If so, I look forward to returning the favor,” said Mace as she lay on couch with a baggie of ice on her head.

Roy said, “He’s probably long gone by now.”

“How do you figure?” asked Beth.

“If he did put Mace in that fridge he probably hung around for a while to watch the building. He would have seen the police and Mace walking out alive.”

Beth shook her head. “We can’t take that chance. Ned is obviously not working this alone. So you two are getting round-the-clock protection.”

“I’ve got a case to try,” said Roy.

Mace sat up. “And I’ve got a fat asshole to catch, among lots of others.”

“You can leave that to the police now. You should’ve left it to us from the get-go.”

“Hey, I’ve done a lot of the heavy lifting already,” objected Mace.

“And what, you think I’m going to do an end run and take all the credit if we do break this thing?”

“Damn it, Beth, we had this talk. I’m going to keep working this.”

“Why don’t you start learning that the rules
do
apply to you?”

“I would, except they always seem to be stacked against me!”

“That’s just a pitiful excuse.”

“I need to do this, Beth,” Mace yelled, jumping off the couch. The baggie of ice slid to the floor. For a moment it looked like blows might be launched.

Roy stepped in between them, one hand on each of their shoulders.

At the same time both women cried out, “Stay out of this!”

“No!” he shouted and pushed each of them back. Mace landed on the couch and Beth in a chair. Both sisters stared up at him in shock.

“You just assaulted a police officer, Kingman,” snapped Beth.

“Oh, right, throw that in his face!” retorted Mace.

Roy barked, “Will both of you just shut up and listen for one damn minute!”

The women glanced at each other and then back at him.

“Okay,” said Roy. “Okay. These people have done things that take enormous resources and manpower.”

“And your point?” said Beth.

“That we work together,” Roy answered simply. “Like Mace said, she’s done a lot of the heavy lifting. I’ve got a way into DLT to see what that brings. Chief, you’ve got resources that neither of us have. All I’m saying is that it makes a lot more sense for us to work together. I think we all want the same thing here, even if it is for different reasons.”

Beth pulled her gaze from Roy and looked down. “Maybe we can work together.”

“Then we need to tell you one more thing,” said Roy. He looked nervously at Mace.

She said, “The guy Tolliver was having dinner with Friday was Jamie Meldon.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Waiter at the restaurant recognized him,” said Roy.

Beth looked puzzled. “I’ve got a contact who thinks Meldon was killed by domestic terrorists.”

Roy shook his head. “We think he was killed because someone saw him having dinner with Diane. The lady knew something and they were afraid she’d told Meldon. The guy was a federal prosecutor after all.”

Mace added, “And they didn’t wait long. Dinner on Friday night and Diane killed right after. Meldon never made it past the weekend. Watkins is probably dead too. That’s why I need to clean myself up and head to Newark in a few hours.”

“What’s in Newark?”

Mace explained about the law firm that had represented Tolliver in her divorce.

“And I’ve got the presentment this morning,” added Roy. “But after that I’m going over to DLT and see what I can find out.”

“And what would you have me do?” asked Beth.

Mace said, “Hopefully, you’ll find Ned.”

“His prints are probably all over the front lobby. We can run them through the databases.” She stood. “If I let you do this,” she began, staring dead at her sister, “you are to report in regularly and you are not to go into any dangerous situation without backup. No more fourth floors, you got that?”

“Loud and clear. I don’t think I can ever even own a refrigerator again.”

Roy said anxiously, “So are we good to go?”

Beth glared at him. “Yes, but we go by
my
playbook, not yours.”