Code of Silence (8 page)

He examined the dimly lit room. The other corners would require some rearrangement of furniture and boxes, not to mention disrupt Gabriella. Her body shook slightly, her head dipped close to the pages of the book, but if she was crying it wasn't audible. It pained him to watch her sorrow without any comfort to bring, without any solutions to offer. So he turned back to try again.

He grabbed the carpet and pulled again. It gave another six inches.

Luke peeked underneath the flap he'd pulled. Yep, steel. After five more pulls with very little result, he decided to move around some furniture. He moved the dresser into the bathroom. His knuckles scraped along the door frame as he pressed, not caring about the tight fit. He'd push harder, enough to make it work. He needed room to maneuver the carpet more.

The now-empty corner gave the same result. It gave very slightly and wreaked havoc on his leg. He quickly rebandaged the wound in the bathroom. When he reentered to try again, Gabriella's head hung low. Her shoulders rose and fell in steady movement. How anyone could fall asleep to the whir of the drill was beyond him, but by now it had to be late into the night. And after the stress of the day and no immediate hope of a getaway or rescue, the escape of sleep enticed him, as well.

Her head nodded and the diary dropped from her fingertips to the floor. It fell open to the middle. Luke remained standing and stared at the pages for a moment. Twice he'd encouraged her to read it, and twice she'd shut down.

His leg throbbed to the rhythm of the drill's grinding outside the door. If he took a short break, he could read the diary for her. An impartial party might be able to see any clues she'd left for her daughter. Or the authorities.

His mind made up, Luke grabbed another blanket, got as comfortable as possible with his leg killing him, and began to read.

Freedom's been on my mind a lot. We lived so much of our life in bondage that when I got physical freedom I thought that would be enough. But after I found freedom in Christ, I realized just how much Freddie and I had been missing out. I pray Gabriella never has to experience such bondage. It seems the time is near to give it all up. I've long stopped looking over my shoulder in fear, but I hope as I pray for the right timing, that I don't open up the door to danger.

NINE

“G
abriella...” She felt jostled as she fought against her heavy eyelids.

“What?” She blinked rapidly. The left side of her neck ached as if it'd been twisted in a vise. Her hand flew back and pressed into the flesh to ease the pain.

“You fell asleep.” Luke's scratchy voice jolted her.

“I did? How long?” She sat upright and blinked, praying it'd been a nightmare. She looked around the room—their prison—and wished she could go back to sleep. Her dreams had to be more pleasant than the nightmare she was living.

“I'm not sure. I was busy ripping up the carpet. And then I took a break—” He pressed a hand on his forehead and dragged it down to his chin. “I fell asleep, too.” He slammed his back against the wall and looked upward. “I hate not having a clock.”

“I know. It's maddening.” Gabriella's vision adjusted. The room seemed bigger somehow. “Where's the dresser? You moved furniture?”

“Yeah, I put it in the bathroom. You were out. I rested for a moment and must have dozed off a few seconds myself. I think it's the cold. It slows down our circulation systems. We need to get moving to stay awake.”

“Ironic. Rodrigo wanted to freeze us out and instead he put us to sleep.” She shivered underneath the blanket and lifted her hand to her hair. While mostly dry, it remained damp closest to her scalp. “Wet hair probably didn't help. What woke you up?”

“He started drilling again when I moved the dresser out of here.” He straightened and paced two steps to the left followed by two steps to the right. If he did it much longer, she'd get dizzy. “He was at it a while. I think he stopped, and that's what woke me up.”

“So he might be close to breaking through? What do you think he'll do if he gets all the way through? Start shooting? Or threaten to start shooting?”

Gabriella's imagination spun into overdrive. What if the twenty-four hours were almost gone? She flung off the blanket. “Luke, I have to find out what time it is, or I'm going to go crazy. What if I slept most of the time away? How could I sleep when my great-aunt is about to die?”

Luke wrapped his arms around her. “There's no way we could've been out that long.” The warmth from his embrace and words calmed her...slightly. “I think my mind kept working on it, even when I dozed off. I've been thinking,” he continued, “the estate transferred quickly. So your mom must have had things in order. There was a will?”

She nodded against his shoulder and pulled away. “There were no clues if that's what you're getting at. She didn't leave me a letter or anything with even a hint—”

He held out a hand. “Humor me. What exactly did it say?”

She shrugged. “Standard legalese. It wasn't unique enough to be remembered verbatim. She left me the property, the house, the historic barn, and that's about it.”

Luke frowned. “The historic barn?”

“Yeah. I don't remember it very well, but apparently we lived there years ago. I was too little to remember, and we stayed there only while the house was being built. You can't see it from the driveway or the house. It's much deeper into the property...near the stables.”

“She mentioned the barn but not the stables?”

“Yeah, but it's implied—”

“The will said
historic
barn?”

Gabriella blew out a long breath, trying not to grow exasperated but failing. Maybe he needed coffee to wake up and understand her. Or maybe she wasn't making sense. “Yes, Luke, it's an old barn.”

“But I need to know if you're telling me her exact wording. There isn't more than one barn on the property?”

“I don't know how I could make it any clearer.”

Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “It's a clue, Gabriella. That barn isn't historic.”

* * *

Energy coursed through his veins. If they were efficient, he could find the exit, get her to the police and send the authorities to the barn...all in time to save her aunt. He liked that plan.

Although, all the effort pulling up the carpet resulted in only finding more steel, and the process was the opposite of efficient, as he didn't want to disturb Gabriella while she slept.

He never intended to let her sleep so long, though, and never dreamed he'd have fallen asleep himself. In fact, he realized now he had been dreaming about fighting to keep himself awake and searching for the exit.

“What are you talking about? The barn is a clue?” Gabriella pressed.

“There are several requirements for a building to be considered historic. Your mother would've known that.”

“So?”

“The county property reports and permits indicate the barn was built in 1980. There's nothing historic about it.”

“The year I was born.” Gabriella put a hand on his arm. “You really think it's a clue?”

He shrugged. “I don't want to get your hopes up, but if it were me I'd start there.” Hadn't he read something in the diary about wanting to show Gabriella what she'd done with the barn? Or had he dreamed it along with searching for the exit?

“Luke—” Her face scrunched up and she coughed. “Do you smell something?”

He inhaled and regretted it as his lungs, still sensitive from inhaling water, constricted. He joined her in a cough. The smell of burning moldy leaves filled the room. The small beam from the flashlight illuminated the curl of smoke soaring up to the ceiling.

Her eyes widened, and her shaky finger pointed. “Fire!”

Luke instinctively placed his hand on the steel door. The cold metal didn't help him understand the situation.

“I should've never used the fire extinguisher as a weapon,” she lamented. “We have nothing.”

He coughed again but ran to the other door. It also seemed cool to the touch.

“Luke, I think it might be coming from the vent.”

He bent down and picked up the flashlight. The beam flickered out. “No, not now.” He slapped the metal and the meager light illuminated the source of the smoke. Sure enough, smoke curled out the floor vent, up and around his shoes. “We need to get out now.”

He lifted his shoes off the vent and slipped them on. “Let's go.”

“No.” She grabbed his arm. “That's what he wants. He's trying to smoke us out.”

“Yeah, well it might work.” He looked into her eyes. “Gabriella, what if the house is on fire?”

She pointed to the door. “And what if it's not, and he's waiting for us?”

Luke weighed the risk and ran to the bathroom. “Fine. Then help me.” He pulled out a handful of clothes from the middle dresser. “Let's soak these and stuff them in the vents.”

He turned on the bathroom faucet. Nothing. He turned to the bathtub, but it only dripped a meager stream before it dried up.

“He's turned off the water.” She turned to the other room. “I think we have a couple more water bottles.”

“Wait. Don't waste our only drinking water.” Coughs racked his body again. He pointed the flashlight to the vent located underneath the vanity sink in the bathroom. Smoke poured through the vent, which corroborated Gabriella's theory. It seemed more likely that Rodrigo intended to smoke them out through the air ducts than that the house was on fire.

He lifted the toilet tank. At least fresh water waited there. He dunked the sweatshirt and handed it to Gabriella. “Remove the grate and stuff this in this vent.”

She nodded. He took the other dry clothes, repeated the process and strode into the closet to stuff the other vent, with Gabriella on his heels. “Do you really think this will work?” she asked.

“Only temporarily.”

She held a hand over her nose. “Oh, the smell. What could he be burning that stinks so bad?”

Luke pointed to the corner. “Grab your mom's diary, then help me roll up the rest of the carpet.” The smell hit him as well—like moldy leaves mixed with rotting fish next to a campfire.

She coughed. “I don't think it's stopping the smoke. Do we need to add more clothes?”

Luke figured it'd been a long shot in the first place. “It's at least slowing the smoke down.” He grabbed the edge of the carpet that Gabriella had been sleeping against and pulled. The crackling of the fibers ripping from the floor encouraged him. It gave so much easier than the other three corners, as if they used a different type of glue, or used less of it. Another yank and the corner pulled free.

Please help us find an exit, Lord.

Gabriella bent down, and her left hand brushed against his arm as she reached for the edge next to him. “One, two, three!”

He pulled as Gabriella threw her weight back. She slipped and fell back against the already-rolled carpet. “I guess I got a little too—” The coughs racked her body as she got on her knees.

His own chest burned. “Gabriella, this is insane. We've got no choice. We need to open the door.”

“I'd rather pass out from lack of oxygen than have you get killed...and whatever else Rodrigo has planned for me.” She crawled over to him. “We just need to keep our heads down low for oxygen.” She frowned and stared at her right hand. “Luke...there's an odd bump.”

Luke helped her stand. They both rolled the carpet up and away as fast as possible. Gabriella's foot hit something.

“Flashlight,” she said.

He pointed the beam in her direction. Centered in the steel floor a small handle lay flat within an indention in the floor. She looked up, grinning.

“Don't get your hopes up. Your mom didn't opt for the separate ventilation. We don't know if this actually leads anywhere.”

Her teeth flashed as her fingers wrapped around the silver handle and pulled up. Her face fell. “Maybe you're right.”

Luke joined her. He twisted the upright handle to the right and something hissed. Gabriella's hands wrapped around his arm. “What was that?”

“Hydraulics? Pray, Gabriella...pray...” He stood up and pulled on the handle. It gave, and a square piece of metal similar to the thick doors swished upward, revealing...floor.

“Oh, no.” Gabriella's voice sounded so distraught it almost broke him.

But he could tell instantly the flooring felt flimsy. Perhaps a combination of drywall and plywood? It'd be weak enough he could stomp through it. There was still no guarantee that Rodrigo wouldn't hear them. Luke mentally pictured what could be underneath her mother's bedroom. The garage?

“Luke.” She swung the beam to the floor. The light illuminated a wooden frame just inside the steel opening. “We don't need to break it, we need to lift it.” The light reflected off a loop of something silver. He reached for the thin wire and pulled. The board lifted a half inch before the wire slipped from its hold and the board smacked back down, leaving the circle of wire around his finger.

“You've got to be kidding me.” How many decades had this exit gone untested?

Gabriella tried to get hold of the board with her fingernails, to no avail. “We need a knife or something.” She lowered her chin to her chest and coughed again.

“Just a straight edge.” What could possibly be in a closet that he could use? The beam glinted off something metallic. He hopped up and yanked the hanger off the pole and flung the dress hanging on it to the side. The hanger's hook slipped neatly through the small space, and he tugged.

The board popped up an inch before it fell back. He tried again and Gabriella's fingers darted in the space. The board fell onto her hand. “Ouch.”

He threw the heavy board to the side.

“You okay?”

She cradled her hand but nodded. He made a mental note to take a look at it later. They both ducked their heads into the blackness for a deep gulp of air. Musty, dusty air, but it only irritated his lungs slightly compared to what came through the vents.

“Do you feel warmth?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I don't think the house is on fire.”

He took the flashlight from her. The space was cavernous in length but not in height. They could easily climb down, hopefully without alerting Rodrigo. He hung his head down lower. The light washed over spiderwebs and dust bunnies the size of cats.

A raised area caught his attention. “I think we've found our exit. It's most likely the attic above the garage, but we'll need to be careful. Rodrigo will no doubt be listening for any sign of our escape.”

She nodded...as the flashlight slipped from his sweaty grip and hit the bottom with a clatter.