Sensuous Angel (23 page)

“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know where she is.”

Donna instinctively twisted as she heard a tapping coming from somewhere. She heard the shuffle of feet and then a whispered exchange. Then she heard a new voice. Refined, cultured. Deadly.

“Mrs. Trudeau. What a pity we’ve had to drag you here! I can’t tell you how sorry I am for the inconvenience. If you would just be a little cooperative, we could send you on home.”

Simson!
The name seemed to scream in her mind. She didn’t know how or why she knew it was that man, whom she had never met, she was just certain that it was he….

Donna ground her teeth tightly together, trying not to shiver, desperately trying not to give way to the hysteria of panic.

“Mrs. Trudeau, I’m waiting. And I’m trying very hard to be patient. I’m just not a patient man.”

“I don’t know where she is. They wouldn’t tell me. I swear to you, that’s the truth.”

Beneath the blanketing of the spread, Donna closed her eyes tightly. Thank God they had never told her. She was so frightened. She would have given it away.

But wherever Lorna was,
she
was protected. By the police. Donna was alone. And Luke…Luke was in the hospital. Drugged. Probably sleeping soundly. He wouldn’t realize until morning that something was wrong.

“What do we do?” someone whispered uneasily. Donna was certain that it was Blue Cap. He didn’t seem to mind being a thief, but she was relieved that the thought of violence was disturbing to someone other than herself.

She heard a coarse laugh—Red Cap again. “If we’re going to start with a little pressure, big guy, I can think of a lot of ways I’d like to apply it to the little lady.”

She could bet he would! Donna thought heatedly. Anger faded with a rebirth of fear. What could she do if he touched her? Nothing!

“Oh, I don’t think we need to take a chance on any…physical pressure yet, boys. I would think that if we left her alone for a while she might see reason.”

“Leave her alone!” Red Cap protested.

“In the cellar,” the man Donna assumed to be Simson said smoothly. “Do you have a cellar, Mrs. Trudeau? I’m sure you do. But I’ll bet yours is fixed up nicely. A game room, maybe. Nice fireplace, maybe a bar. Or at the very least, you’ve probably got a nice laundry down there.” She felt a hand brush against the area of her cheek. “Our cellar is quite different, Mrs. Trudeau. We’ve got rats. Big, fat ones. And I think I’ve seen spiders in every shade of the rainbow down there. Kind of pretty, actually. Rats…spiders…who knows what else? And it’s cold, Mrs. Trudeau. Wet, and cold.”

The man moved away. “Let her see our cellar, boys. If that doesn’t convince her in a few hours that she wants to talk to me, she’ll be all yours for a little friendly persuasion.”

Hands gripped rudely at her again. She kicked and struggled against them. Then she went still as she felt a draft, and a scream, totally instinctive, ripped from her throat as she felt herself falling…bound…unable to break her fall.

“Scream down there all you like, Mrs. Trudeau. No one will hear you.”

But she wasn’t screaming anymore. The fall hadn’t been all that damaging, but it had knocked the breath from her and she was stunned, gasping for air.

Vaguely she heard something snap shut. A trapdoor to the cellar?

She forgot about the door. She could hear other noises. Squeeks…the sounds of scurrying little footsteps. Rats. He hadn’t lied, she was surrounded by rats.

Donna began to roll about insanely, desperately trying to free her face from the bedspread so that she could see.

Finally she managed to free herself from its blinding covering. “Then she almost wished that she hadn’t. It wasn’t completely dark—not completely. A pale trace of light filtered through the closed door, enough so that she could see around her. Old cartons, old crates, a broken set of wooden stairs covered with cobwebs. Just as she was covered with cobwebs. They were in her hair, tangling over her face, covering her lips. She opened her mouth to scream, and the web seemed to fill her mouth. “God!
No!
”

Spitting and gagging, she fell against the concrete floor. It
was
cold. So cold. And damp. Seeping into her bones…into her spirit. Again she thought fleetingly of Lorna. Thank God that she didn’t know where her friend was!

A feeling of sickness that made her gag and choke again came to her. This was only the beginning. Simson would turn her over to Red Cap when she didn’t talk….

The despair that set into her was almost overpowering. Tears of hysteria rose to her eyes again. She closed them tightly. Last night—last night at this time she had lain beside her husband’s warmth, felt his passion, his strength, his tenderness…his love. She had been cherished. Tonight her bed was hard cement. Cold. Repelling. Her music was the squeal of rats, the only soft touch was that of a spider’s web….

Luke! He didn’t even know! Wouldn’t know….Donna caught her breath suddenly. But maybe he would. Maybe he would…..

Her high rise of hope gave way to sinking despair. No. April had lost her life. And Luke hadn’t been able to do a thing.

I can’t give up! she raged inwardly as something scurried over her foot. She smothered a cry and slammed her boot against the floor.

She had to free her wrists. Grinding her teeth down hard together, Donna began to work at the bonds. She didn’t stop to wonder what she would do if she managed to free herself; she didn’t dare.

“Do you know how much time has passed?” Luke asked Andrew grimly as they drove down another street in the garment district.

“Luke, it’s a big city. We’re lucky we had a few witnesses to trace the van this far.”

“Yeah,” Luke murmured. This far, street after street, building after building stretched before them. Offices, factories, apartments. Thousands of little tiny cubicles where a woman could be hidden. His woman. His wife….

It seemed as if Andrew was playing mind reader that night. “Luke, I know it appears vast, almost hopeless. But believe me, the streets are crawling with police. Marked cars, unmarked cars. Mounted patrol. A score of the best trained dogs available. We’ll find her.”

Luke wished that he could believe that Andrew had faith in his own words. He wished he could believe something but he couldn’t. He felt nothing but desperation. Pain, fear, anxiety, and a horrible empty void where his “blind faith” should have been. He felt as he had all those years ago in the service, as if he had forgotten how to pray.

Where was everything? he wondered. The extra perception that had warned him of the danger had deserted him. His belief, the God he had thought he had come to know, was out of his reach. Fear had brought on bitterness, and he couldn’t help but question all that had been his life, his faith, his belief. All that had been so very staunch. Even when he had lost April. He had known bitterness then, pain that cut like a knife. But he had lived through it. His faith had been there to sustain him then. But now even that was gone.

“Luke,” Andrew urged in an anxiety-tinged tone. “Can’t you…feel anything?”

Luke turned on his brother with a driving fury. “Damn it, Andrew! I wouldn’t be sitting here like a log if I did! I’ve tried. And I’ve tried and I’ve—” He cut off his heated words. He hadn’t prayed. He had forgotten how. “I’m sorry, Drew,” he murmured flatly.

“Don’t be,” Andrew replied gruffly.

He pulled the old car he was driving around another corner. The sidewalks were empty. The street had an eerie feel to it. Empty. There were a lot of condemned buildings on the street. Old places, tenements deserted by city edict. There were about eight million people in the city of New York; Andrew estimated there were about eight million rats and roaches living on this street alone. They were a long ways from Park Place.

“Andrew!” Luke gasped out suddenly, tersely.

“What?” Andrew snapped in return. He’d almost driven into a telephone pole, he’d jerked the wheel so abruptly.

Luke was still, his handsome features tense in the pale, false light.

“Luke!” Andrew said again. “What is it? Do you feel something? Sense something—what?”

Luke turned sharply to his brother. “Yes…I think.”

“What? Where?”

“We’re on the street. We’re near. Straight ahead, Andrew, I’m certain.”

Andrew allowed the engine to idle, then he began to creep along the street.

“There!” Luke suddenly exclaimed.

Andrew didn’t see anything special, just another tenement.

“Where?”

Luke offered him a grim smile. “Nothing psychic, Andrew. Just a garage.”

Andrew’s heart thumped hard against his ribs. Beyond the tenement was some kind of an office building. With a garage. Where else would you hide a van?

He picked up the car’s radio and called in their position. Luke was heading out of the car before he finished.

Andrew quickly rehooked the receiver. “Luke!”

Luke glanced back at him with annoyance. “I’m not a fool, Drew. I’ll watch my step.”

“I know. I just want you to wait. I’m coming with you.”

She had never known that rats could be such bold creatures. They were
supposed
to run at the slightest sound. Not these rats. They stared at her in the darkness, their small, beady eyes like little rays of evil premonition. Donna returned those glares hatefully and thumped both boots hard against the floor again. The rats at last skittered and scratched away.

She tugged hard at the bonds about her wrists again, worrying at them with her fingers that were almost numb. So close to numb that once she had freed herself, it took her a moment to realize that she had done so.

Then her first action was to swipe her hands vigorously over her face to cleanse it the best she could of the cloying spider web. Thank God! She was free! Free in the cellar, at least. How long had she been down there? Long enough to feel as if the dampness had drenched her, to feel so cold that she didn’t know if she could ever get warm again.

She stood quietly, staring at the slim rays of light coming from the trapdoor. Was there another entrance? There had to be. If not, they would be coming for her. And she could see now. If she saw them….She didn’t want to continue with the thought. Nor did she dare think of her fate if Red Cap got his hands on her. She couldn’t think about rats or roaches. She had to crawl around and explore every inch of the cellar until she found something—a door, a window, a loose board.
Anything.

She started moving. Spider webs brushed her hair again. She almost bumped into a support beam. She knelt down, discovering that she avoided a lot of the spider webs that way.

She kept crawling until she found a wall. It felt cold, but little colder than her own flesh. She moved on, running a hand along the wall. On and on. She recoiled in horror, stifling a scream as she touched something that moved. Swallowing deeply, she started to creep along again.

At last she touched something different. Not cement, but wood. Please God! She prayed silently. Let it be a street-level window, boarded up.
Loosely
boarded up.

She carefully located the boundaries of the wood. She had been right! There were several boards over a window. Ignoring the splinters that tore at her fingers, she began to tug at the boards. They were old, decaying, loose in her hands. She struggled for a firm grip on one and pulled for all that she was worth. It gave way, sending her flying back on her rear. And there was light beyond it. The murky gray light of night.

Donna stumbled back to her knees, peering through the long hole she had made. She couldn’t possibly fit through it, but if she could tear off another board….Her fingers explored and gripped the wood again. Then she paused, her heart racing with terror. There were voices again from above. A few sentences so low that she couldn’t discern the words. And then another, crystal clear.

“Bring her up now.”

Desperately she tugged at the board, ripping and tearing in mad panic.

The hatch door was thrown open. She heard it clunk and clatter as it was carelessly pushed aside. She turned her attention back to the board, pulling with all her strength as footsteps came down the rotting stairs. It was Red Cap. She knew it was he by his voice.

“Why, looky here! Our guest is trying to leave!”

He was a fairly young man, probably in his late twenties. But a long scar marred his cheek, and his eyes were as old and cruel as endless time.

Donna screamed, giving the board one last tug. This time it gave, but as she had before, she teetered backward with the momentum. Red Cap was coming closer and closer. She scrambled desperately to her feet, grabbing the board for protection. He kept coming toward her. She opened her mouth, screaming again, as loudly as she could. Long, and shrill. And desperate.

“Why, you little—”

He was coming straight toward her, suddenly he stopped. Donna realized he was looking beyond her.

A man was coming through the window.
Andrew!
It was Andrew! Oh, thank God!

Red Cap muttered an expletive, trying to spin about. Andrew was too quick for him. A flying leap brought him to Red Cap; the two crashed to the floor.

“Donna!”

Still too shocked to know the bliss of rescue, Donna barely recognized the voice. She turned, very slowly, as if she were in a dream.

“Luke!” His name tore in a wrenching anguish from her throat and she catapulted toward him. He engulfed her into arms that were strong and sure. Arms that were tender. Arms that convinced her she was really free at last.

“Are you all right?” He asked her hoarsely.

She nodded and was somewhat taken aback as he pushed her from him. But then she realized that Andrew was still scuffling with a man on the floor and that there was a commotion at the top of the stairs.

Luke ignored Andrew and went for the stairs.

And Donna was frightened again. For a brief second she had caught the glint of his eyes. She had never seen such fury or such ruthless purpose. But then he was gone. She heard oaths and grunts from above her, the sounds of a heavy weight falling and thumping against the floor.

“There are two of them!” She wanted to scream the belated warning but her voice was little more than a croak.