CHAPTER 54
DeAngelo Finn hung crucified inside the closet door. His arms were raised shoulder height, metal spikes driven through the palms, blood dripping down the wood from each one. The weight of his body was held up by a rope tied around his waist and hung on a hook. Finn’s head listed to the side, eyes closed and face ashen in the intense beam from Calloway’s flashlight.
Roy Calloway put his ear to Finn’s chest and heard a faint beat. Finn moaned.
“He’s alive,” Armstrong said, disbelieving.
“Get me a hammer, something!”
Armstrong stumbled out of the room, spilling whatever remained atop the dresser to the ground.
Calloway’s instinct was to remove the belt, but if he did, Finn’s weight would be transferred to the spikes through his hands. “Hang on DeAngelo. We got help on the way. Can you hear me? DeAngelo? Hang on. We’re going to get you down.”
Ronkowski and two of his firemen trailed Armstrong into the room. One carried a powerful lantern.
“Jesus,” Ronkowski said.
“I need something to pull them out.”
“You pry those nails out and the pain will kill him,” Ronkowski said.
“What if we drive the points out from the back?” one of the firemen said.
“Same problem.”
“We could cut around the spikes,” Calloway said.
Ronkowski wiped a hand across his face. “All right. Let’s do that. We can lift him to take the weight off his hands. Dirk, get the saw.”
“Forget that,” Armstrong said, stopping the fireman. “Just pull out the hinge pins and take down the whole damn door. We can use it like a stretcher.”
“He’s right,” Ronkowski said. “That’s better. Dirk, get a hammer and screwdriver.” Ronkowski stepped closer to DeAngelo. “He’s having trouble breathing. Lift him up to take the weight off his rib cage.”
Calloway lifted Finn by the waist. The old man moaned. Armstrong returned with a chair from the kitchen and slid it under Finn’s legs, but Finn was too weak to push himself up. Calloway continued to support his weight as Dirk returned with the hammer and chisel and started on the top hinge pin.
“No,” Armstrong said, “take out the bottom bolt first. We’ll brace the top.”
The fireman knocked the bottom pin out of the hinge, then the bolt from the middle hinge. Armstrong and Calloway steadied the door.
“You got him?” the fireman asked.
“Do it,” Armstrong said.
The fireman knocked out the top pin. Calloway braced against the weight of Finn and the door as he and Armstrong managed to turn the door and slowly lower it onto the bed.
“Get the tie downs,” Ronkowski said. “We need to strap his body to the door if we’re going to carry him out of here.”
Ronkowski fitted an oxygen mask over Finn’s face and checked his vitals. When a fireman returned with the straps, they removed the belt from around Finn’s waist and maneuvered the straps under the door and cinched Finn about the ankles, waist, and chest.
“All right. Let’s see if we can get him out of here,” Ronkowski said.
Calloway took the end of the door by Finn’s head. Armstrong grabbed the end near his feet.
“On three,” Ronkowski said.
They lifted in unison, trying to avoid any sudden movements. Finn groaned again.
As they maneuvered the door through the jamb, Armstrong said, “Who would do it, Roy? Jesus, who would do something like this to an old man?”