Читать книгу Lethal Exposure - Elisabeth Rees - Страница 12

THREE

Rebecca and Jack locked eyes in mutual shock. She automatically reached her hand to open the passenger door and go take a closer look, but Jack’s fingers closed around her wrist.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’ll go check it out.”

He parked the minivan as far away from the Porsche as possible in the small parking lot and moved his hand to rest on top of hers in her lap. “Stay here. If anything bad happens, run into the building and call the police, okay? Don’t put yourself in any danger.”

“Jack,” she said, “be careful.”

He gave her hand a squeeze. “I always am.”

She watched him slide from his seat onto the ground, keeping low and alert. With his hand resting on his holstered gun under the loose fabric of his shirt, he approached the Porsche cautiously, checking the surrounding vehicles for anything suspicious. He skirted around his car, looking through the windows and squatting low to check the underside.

Finally, he returned to her and retook his place in the driver’s seat of her minivan.

“It looks exactly the same as always,” he said. “There’s no sign of anything having been tampered with.”

Rebecca felt the air growing muggy like a storm was brewing. “But what’s it doing here?”

Jack shook his head. “I have no idea, but let’s save that question for later.”

He looked up at the tall Liberty News building. “We need to go get those photographs so we can hand them over to the police. The sooner we make this situation go away, the sooner you can get back to normal.”

Normal, Rebecca thought. What exactly is normal? Normal was living life as a single mom, watching her children grow up without a father, relying on Jack to do all the things that Ian should be doing: teaching the girls to ride a bike, building them a tree house, going to ballet recitals. It wasn’t fair to expect Jack to do this forever. She should be able to manage alone by now. After all, eighteen months had passed already.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I guess we both want to get back to normal. You can get on with your life again.”

He looked a little taken aback. “I am getting on with my life. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a burden.”

She inhaled deeply and thought of all the words she wanted to say to him, but none of them would come. “We’ll talk about it later, Jack,” she said, opening her car door and stepping out onto the pavement. “We need to have a conversation that is long overdue.”

She saw a look of confusion fall over his face as he exited the car and came to stand next to her. “What are you talking about, Bec? I thought we were doing fine.”

“That’s just the problem, Jack,” she said, turning to walk up the steps to the revolving door of the Liberty News. “There is no we.”

* * *

Jack took the steps two at a time to catch up to Rebecca, who had stridden ahead of him without warning. Whatever she had just alluded to had unsettled him. He had a worrying suspicion that she wanted him to back out of her life, and this thought sent a cold sensation of anxiety through his body. Yet he couldn’t profess to be wholly surprised. A beautiful woman like Rebecca deserved to meet someone special and be cherished again. She had probably realized that she would never meet such a person while he was on the scene, scaring off any potential suitors.

He saw her disappear through the revolving door and waited for the next wing to turn before darting into the space and finding himself in the large foyer of the building. The temperature inside was the perfect relief from the chilly February day, and the air smelled fresh and clean. Numerous framed newspaper stories adorned the walls, showing the history of the paper through the years, with many of the photographs having been taken by Rebecca.

“Rebecca,” a voice echoed across the foyer. “What are you doing here today? Our receptionist told me you’d called to request the day off.”

Jack looked over to see Rebecca’s editor, Simon Orwell, rush to her and envelop her in a hug. Jack’s skin prickled with something he couldn’t put his finger on.

“She also told me about your burglary,” Simon said. “How awful for you.”

“I won’t be here long,” Rebecca replied. “If it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it is,” he said. “Take as much time off as you need.”

Simon’s eyes slid from Rebecca’s and caught sight of Jack behind her. His manner instantly changed to one of brusque formality. He straightened out his yellow suit jacket and adjusted his electric blue shirt collar beneath. He was known for his snappy, if unconventional, dress sense and was thought of as an eccentric media mogul in Florida, where he owned several regional newspapers, many of them sharing the same office space as the Liberty News.

“Conrad,” Simon exclaimed. “So good to see you. Long time no see.”

Jack approached Simon and extended his hand. Simon was one of very few people who used Jack’s first name, and it emphasized the distance between them. They had met many times but had never gotten to know each other well, keeping their conversations usually limited to the best way to avoid traffic gridlock in the morning. That was as personal as either of them wanted to get.

Jack shook Simon’s hand firmly. “I don’t suppose you happened to notice who parked my yellow Porsche in the Liberty News’s lot this morning?” he asked, trying to keep his tone as light as possible. “I took it to be cleaned, and the company must’ve dropped it here instead of the parking lot in the center of town like I asked.” He rolled his eyes. “They get it wrong all the time. I just wondered if you’d seen which attendant left it here.”

“Sorry, no,” Simon said, releasing his hand. “But you’re welcome to use our telephone to call them and check.”

Jack held up his hand. “No, thanks. It’s not a big deal.”

He caught Rebecca’s eye and gave a small shake of the head, letting her know that he didn’t want to divulge any information to Simon. Simon’s natural nosiness was not what they needed right now. If he sniffed a story, he’d be all over it like a bad rash.

“I’ve come to get something from my desk,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice light, as Jack had. “I left it here yesterday, and I need it for the weekend.”

Simon put his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the elevator. “I’ll walk with you. I meant it when I said to take as much time off as you need before returning to work. Burglaries can leave a person with a lot of mental stress, so don’t worry if you need some downtime.” He guided her into the open elevator. “After all, I need my star photographer to stay happy and healthy.”

Jack kept his eyes on Simon’s hand resting on Rebecca’s shoulder as the elevator glided up to the eighth floor. He wanted to lift Simon’s fingers from Rebecca’s person. Simon was always very friendly with Rebecca, and it bothered Jack greatly, but he knew he had no right to feel that way.

The elevator doors opened out directly into the large newsroom, where there was a buzz of activity. It was open and airy, with telephones ringing and staff calling to one another across the room.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Simon said, removing his arm from around Rebecca and heading for his enclosed office at the far end. “Just holler if you need anything.”

Jack watched Simon striding confidently away, displaying an air of authority that let everybody in the newsroom know who was in charge. Despite being only a little more than five feet five inches in height, he carried himself with the commanding presence of a much taller man. The wide shoulder pads on his expertly tailored suits helped.

Jack noticed that Rebecca had left his side and gone to sit at her desk by the window. He went to join her, realizing that he had never actually seen her place of work before. Her sunny desk was neatly laid out with photographs for local stories: a beauty pageant, a veterans’ parade, a new statue being unveiled. Next to her computer was a framed photograph of her and Ian, each holding one of their daughters, waving at the camera. He looked away, feeling sadness creep into his heart. He felt as though he were invading her private space.

She opened the drawer of her desk with a key from her purse and gave a small gasp. “They’re gone,” she said, searching through a pile of papers inside. “They were right here on top. I remember putting them there yesterday after I spoke to the auction house.”

Across the newsroom, Jack saw Simon talking on the phone, lowering the blinds in his office. It made him feel uneasy.

He squatted down beside her chair. “Does anyone else have a key to your desk?”

“Simon has a master key for all the desks,” she said. “But to my knowledge, he’s never used it.”

“Were these the only copies of the photographs?”

“They’re the only printed copies,” she said. “But I think I still have the negatives filed away at home. I have a storage freezer in my darkroom.”

“You think you have them?” he repeated. “Don’t you keep the negatives of all your pictures?”

She nodded. “Yes, mostly. But these photographs never appeared in any publication. At the time of Operation Iraqi Freedom, the media was way more fixated on human interest stories. Pictures of artwork weren’t what they wanted. If I don’t manage to sell a photo, I sometimes don’t look after the negatives like I should.” She looked a little sheepish. “I have thousands of them, and I focus on the important ones. I keep meaning to transfer them all to digital format, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

He dropped his voice. “We need to find those negatives before anyone else does.” He grabbed her by the hand. “Let’s go.”

* * *

As Jack led her toward the elevator, Rebecca heard Simon’s voice in the newsroom. “You leaving already?” he called. She looked back to see him jogging to reach them.

“Yes,” she said. “I got what I need.”

A look of surprise swept over his face. “You did?”

Simon quickly smiled, but it was too late to hide his initial reaction. Jack noticed it, too, and flicked his eyes to hers with a look of concern.

“I thought we could have a coffee together,” Simon said, keeping the smile fixed on his lips. “We so rarely get a chance to catch up these days.”

Rebecca felt her face take on a look of amazement. In the ten years she had worked at the Liberty News, Simon had never once asked her to accompany him for coffee. In fact, he didn’t like sitting down for longer than five minutes at a time and always grabbed his coffee on the run. He possessed a kind of energy that kept him moving at a frenetic pace.

“Um, no thanks, Simon,” she said. “I gotta run.” She noticed his disappointment. “Maybe next time.”

“Aw, come on,” he insisted. “Just ten minutes.”

Jack then stepped forward and stood between her and Simon. “Thanks for the offer, Simon, but we have a busy day ahead.”

Rebecca heard the emphasis that Jack placed on we, and she saw Simon’s face harden in response. He was not a man who liked to be challenged, and Jack clearly found it difficult to hide his dislike of her editor. Simon was a big player in the regional media world and had friends in high places. But none of this had an effect on Jack, who treated Simon like any regular Joe.

“Fair enough,” Simon said, raking his hand through his thinning blond hair. “It was good to see you guys. We’ll catch up another time.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back to his office in the newsroom, pushing open his office door with a flourish.

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he watched Simon walk away. “I think it’s wise to keep Simon at arm’s length,” he said quietly. “The less he knows, the better.”

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

“I know that Simon can be a little arrogant,” Rebecca said, feeling duty-bound to defend her editor. “But I’ve known him for twelve years. I don’t think he’s caught up in anything illegal.” She pressed the first-floor button impatiently when the elevator failed to move. “Simon isn’t a bad person.”

Jack leaned against the elevator wall as the doors finally closed and it started gliding downward. “You see the good in everyone, Bec. That’s your best quality.”

She felt her color rise a little and was suddenly conscious of their proximity to one another in this confined area. Jack’s aura seemed to fill the small space, and she found herself willing the elevator to go faster. But instead of smoothly descending to its destination, the elevator began to shudder and jerk, causing her to lose her balance and stumble sideways. She felt Jack’s arms catch her and bring her back to her feet, but the floor was still shaking beneath her legs.

“What’s happening, Jack?” she yelled, grabbing his hand.

“Just keep a tight hold on me,” he replied, quickly pulling her into the corner, where he could lean against the two walls.

Jack’s arms curled around her waist, and the sound of grinding metal filled her ears. It reminded her of the twisted remains of tanks and military vehicles she had seen littering the roadside during her time in Iraq. She could smell the pungent odor of heated steel as the elevator tried to slow its descent into an abyss below. Jack tightened his grip, restricting her breathing a little and leaving her breathless. She worked her fingers underneath his, and he loosened his hold.

Then the elevator stopped with a sudden jolt, and they were both sent sprawling to the floor when their legs gave way beneath them. She felt Jack’s body cover hers for a split-second before he sprang to his feet like a cat. The lights flickered for a few moments and then went out completely, plunging them into total darkness. This wasn’t a random fault with the elevator. This was a targeted attack, and fear seemed to seep into her bones. She imagined somebody just a few feet away, gleefully toying with the elevator control box, knowing that its occupants would feel terrorized in the dark.

“Jack,” she called, trying not to panic. “Where are you?”

Two strong hands lifted her to her feet. “I’m here,” he said gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll get us out.”

He used his cell phone to shine a flashlight around the elevator, letting it rest on the emergency telephone that hung on the wall by the buttons.

He picked up the red handset. “Hello,” he said loudly into the speaker. “Can anyone hear me? We’re trapped in an elevator at the Liberty News building in Blountstown.”

Rebecca looked at him expectantly, but he shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t even know if it’s working.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking at his face lit up by the glow from his cell phone. “I think we’re in trouble here.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her face. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Rebecca,” he said solemnly. “I promise.”

As if to mock his words, the elevator began to shudder again, falling a couple of feet with two quick jumps. Rebecca’s knees hit the floor as she felt her stomach dropping away with the sudden movement. She reached up to take Jack’s hand, and he pushed her down to the floor.

“Stay down,” he said. “It’s safer.”

Rebecca knelt on the floor and assumed the most natural position—one of prayer. She closed her eyes and asked God to deliver them from the danger that had sought them out. She had prayed hundreds of times while on photography assignments, surrounded by war and destruction, and the Lord had never failed her. She just needed to put her faith in Him. Within moments, the elevator had settled into a stable position, with no hint of movement. Rebecca strained her ears for the toe-curling sound of metal grinding against metal, but it appeared to have abated. She looked up at Jack, who had placed his cell phone on the floor and was attempting to pry open the doors with his fingertips. His biceps flexed with the powerful effort. When the doors eventually slowly opened, he was faced with a bare brick wall.

Jack looked at the ceiling. “I can climb out onto the roof and see how far from the next floor we are. We may be able to climb up.”

Rebecca looked down at her bandaged hand. Even though the injury was slight, the strength in her left hand was decreased. She didn’t know if she was capable of climbing through wires and cables in a dangerous elevator shaft.

A muffled voice in the darkness provided a beacon of hope. “Hello. Is anyone in there?”

“Yes,” Jack called. “There are two people in here. Can you help us out?”

“Stay where you are,” the voice called back. “I’ll activate the emergency override and manually wind you down, but be patient, because it’s mighty slow.”

Rebecca then recognized the voice as Hal, the building security guard. “Thank you, Hal,” she shouted, jumping to her feet. She quickly added in a murmur, “And thank You, God, for sending him.”

As the elevator began its sluggish, shuddering descent to the ground, Jack held Rebecca close in his arms. When the motion became a little smoother, she pushed against his torso and placed herself to his side, holding on to a rail on the wall for balance. He mirrored her stance, remaining by her side in the darkness until the familiar sight of the white foyer came into view.

Rebecca felt as though she was emerging from a cave. They had been trapped inside for only around fifteen minutes, but their eyes had obviously adjusted to the darkness. They both instinctively used their hands as shields against the glare of the sun.

Hal took her arm as she stepped out onto the polished marble floor. “I’ve never seen an incident like this before,” he said. “It’s the strangest thing.” He took off his cap to scratch his bald head. “Hope you two aren’t too shaken up.”

“We’re fine. Thanks, Hal,” Rebecca said with a voice that was as calm as she could manage. “Please make sure you stop anyone else from using this elevator until it’s been thoroughly checked and repaired.”

“Of course, Mrs. Grey,” Hal replied. “I’ll speak to Mr. Orwell right away.”

The mention of Simon’s name seemed to spur Jack’s resolve to make a speedy exit from the building. “Let’s get outta here,” he said. “Before anything else happens.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” she said, heading for the revolving door.

When they stepped out into the crisp air, Rebecca’s body gave a shiver. It wasn’t just the February day that caused her chills. She was shaken up by the thought that somebody was tracking them, putting their lives in danger, possibly trying to silence her forever. Jack took off his jacket and laid it over her shoulders, rubbing her arms to keep them warm.

“Stay here while I bring the car around,” he said. “You should keep out of sight.”

She nodded, glancing back to see Hal behind the front desk talking into the telephone, no doubt informing Simon that the elevator had suffered a serious malfunction, trapping the paper’s lead photographer inside. But would Simon be surprised? She found herself questioning whether Jack’s distrust of her editor was justified after all.

Then she caught sight of Jack’s yellow car in the corner of the lot. She reached into his jacket pocket and found the Porsche keys nestled inside.

“Hey, Jack,” she called after him. “Why don’t you drive your car, and I’ll drive mine?”

He spun around, and his eyes locked on the car keys in her hand. She put her thumb on the black fob that activated the unlock mechanism on the doors. Jack broke into a run and shouted, “No! Somebody might have been here while we were inside!” but it was too late. She had already pressed the button.

In the next moment, she saw a flash of yellow bounce before her eyes as the car skyrocketed into the air on a ball of flames. The shock wave took her clean off her feet, and Jack’s arms wrapped themselves around her while she was in the air. The last thing she felt was his body go limp as they both fell hard to the ground.