The impact caught him square on the Kevlar vest, knocking him onto his back. In one smooth motion, he rolled and flipped, raised furious red-rimmed eyes to her, supported his gun hand with his other hand and aimed.
She prepared to drop, knowing she could never outrun a bullet shot by a master marksman.
From above, something large and square slammed down on his head, knocking him flat. Knocking him unconscious.
What? A cardboard box. He’d been hit by a cardboard box. Car manuals spilled out, dozens of them, thick, heavy, leather and paper and weight.
From the loft above, Birdie said, “Take that, you bastard.” Her voice was no more than a croak.
Kellen stashed her pistol, supported herself with both hands and swung her feet down. She landed flat-footed and ready to fight.
Mitch was unmoving, a pool of blood beneath his thigh.
With her pistol in her right hand and her left hand supporting her aim, she approached him.
None of her guys should ever be underestimated.
Still in that hoarse voice, Birdie said, “The box was full of old car manuals. Probably weighed forty pounds. He’s not getting up.”
With her foot, Kellen pushed the box off Mitch’s back.
His neck was crooked sideways.
Kellen felt for his carotid artery.
No pulse.
“You broke his neck.” Kellen looked up at Birdie.
“Good for me.” Birdie used the handrail to lower herself to the loft’s metal mesh floor. “Because he damned near killed me.”
A drop of blood splatted on the floor beside Kellen.
The right side of Birdie’s face was split open, bruised and shiny like a ripe eggplant.
Kellen holstered her pistol, grabbed the first aid kit off the wall and ran up the stairs. She knelt beside Birdie. “What did he do?”
“Came in all friendly. I turned my back. He smacked me on the side of the head with a tire iron.” Birdie’s cheek was swelling so fast one eye was shut and she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Dragged me up here while I was half-conscious. I fought. He gagged me, tied me up. He knew you’d be coming for help, but you got here too soon, before he thoroughly secured me. Thank God. He went after you and I screamed through the gag. I spent too much time getting myself free. I’m sorry, Captain. Dropping that box on him was the best I could do.”
Kellen supported Birdie and helped her recline, inch by inch. “You killed him. What else do you want to do to him?”
“Torture. Hot needles under his fingernails.” Birdie closed her one eye. “Did you call 911?”
“I can’t. Mitch cut us off from the world.” Kellen pressed a gauze pad to Birdie’s head to staunch the bleeding and used a roll of gauze to hold it in place.
Birdie’s eye opened. “Then I will attempt to survive this night. Wrap me warm. Put a pillow under my head.”
“I know what I’m doing!” Kellen snapped, but she wasn’t really snapping at Birdie. She was trying to explain…
“You’ve got to leave me. You’ve got to go finish this.” Birdie took a breath. “Blanket. Pillow. Go.”
Kellen had never abandoned a fallen comrade before. Not on any tour of any place in the world. But she had to leave Birdie. She stripped the blankets off Birdie’s cot and gently wrapped her, rolled her so she was cocooned in warmth. She lifted Birdie’s head and deftly slid the pillow beneath her. She pressed a kiss on the least-swollen side of Birdie’s head and whispered, “Stay alive. I’ll be back. Stay alive.”
“I’ll try.” But Birdie’s voice was less than a wheeze, and she didn’t move.
Kellen ran down the stairs, stopped by Mitch and touched his cheek. He was already cooling. It had been the fast, brutal passing that he deserved. But damn. He’d been her comrade in battle. She died a little inside to know he was gone.
Then, ruthlessly practical, she reloaded her pistol, placed it in her holster. As backup, she found his firearm, reloaded it and stored it in her boot.
She had no way to call for help, no time to find Max for help. She was alone.
37
Kellen ran out into the silent night, where black streamers of clouds clawed across the sky, grasping the stars, then releasing them. She climbed into her ATV and drove toward the castle, toward Carson Lennex’s tower room, where light radiated like a beacon. Time and worry oppressed her, and the taste of grim fear filled her mouth.
After such a delay, after so much time spent suffering under Nils Brooks’s hands, was Carson Lennex even alive?
She let herself in a side entrance, ran the dim, silent corridors toward the elevators that led to the private suites. She pushed the up button.
Nothing moved. Nothing lit.
A step behind her had her pulling her pistol and spinning around.
Sheri Jean stood like a disconsolate ghost. “Everything’s broken. The elevators, the intercoms, the house phones. Some of the lights are running on generator. Some are not working at all. I can’t call or text on my cell phone. Kellen, what’s happening?”
Kellen had included Sheri Jean on her list of possible candidates for the Librarian. She was so smart, with an edge that marked her as a possible predator. But this Sheri Jean was frightened, seeking direction. “We’re in a deep pile of trouble with the guy who killed Lloyd Magnuson and cut off Priscilla’s hands.”
Sheri Jean whimpered. “Can you fix this?” She gestured at the elevators.
In Kellen’s mind, she paced off the electrical schematic and shook her head. “I don’t know enough about wiring to guarantee I won’t electrocute myself in a spectacular way, and I need to handle this situation in an unfried manner. Are any of your staff here?”
“Russell’s at the front door. He won’t leave. Frances is manning the front desk. She won’t leave. I convinced her to take cover underneath. They’re the only ones of my crew that I know of. If anyone else is here, they’re hiding.”
“That’s probably best. Listen, I need your help.” Reluctantly, Kellen said, “Mitch Nyugen tried to kill my friend Birdie.”
Sheri Jean knew Kellen had recommended Mitch as an employee. She didn’t try to shame her. Bless Sheri Jean for that. “Birdie’s alive?” she asked. “Can I help her?”
“She’s in the loft in the maintenance building. She’s bleeding. Use the CB radio in Annie’s office to call for help.”
Sheri Jean’s eyes widened. “A CB radio? What am I, a trucker? I have no idea how to use a CB radio!”
“It’s not hard, you just…”
Sheri Jean got that old Sheri Jean scowl of disdain.
“All right, who knows?”
“Annie!”
“And me.” And no doubt Max, and he could be anywhere.
Sheri Jean snapped to attention. “I can stabilize Birdie long enough for someone to get her to the hospital. My first aid training is up-to-date.”
“Thank you!” Impulsively, Kellen grabbed Sheri Jean and kissed her cheek. “Run now, be careful, and if you find anybody who can use the CB, get them to Annie’s office. We need emergency services. We need law enforcement.”
“Right!” Sheri Jean left Kellen standing in front of the sabotaged elevators.
Kellen checked her phone. No messages from anyone. Certainly no message from Max.
She couldn’t warn him. She couldn’t get his help.
In her mind, Kellen re-created the resort’s floor plan, each corner, each line, each lettered word and carefully created detail. Only one stairway led to Carson Lennex’s tower, and that dumped her in the suite’s entry. Nils would have that covered. But the old dumbwaiter shaft was still there and hopefully the dumbwaiter mechanism itself. Maybe she could make that work.
Scrub that. She had to make that work.
For access, she went to the first-floor hospitality storeroom. It was dark; the generator’s power didn’t extend beyond the necessities. She pulled her tactical flashlight and shone it at the wall and found herself staring at…nothing. When use of the dumbwaiter had been discontinued, the resort had walled off the entrance.