Holding Out for a Hero (Baytown Heroes #9)

Chapter 32

32

Bess squirmed closer to Carol. She wanted to see if Carol could work on Bess’s zip ties but was afraid Carol’s hand coordination might be strained. Plus, she knew they weren’t strong enough just to break the ties.

Now that the door was closed and the interior lights turned off, they were in pitch black with no way to see what tools might have been around to assist. “God, I wish I’d looked around more before they left us in here.”

“What are they go-ing to do with us?” Carol asked.

“I don’t know,” Bess answered. “But it won’t be—” She halted her response but figured Carol knew what she was going to say.

Carol confirmed her suspicion. “You don’t have to pre-tend. I know it’s not good.”

Blowing out a long sigh, Bess shook her head. “No, I don’t think it will be. That’s why we need to get out of here.”

“We can’t see any-thing. How can we?”

“I have to get these ties off my wrists.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to ignore the pain in her shoulders and the bite of the plastic on her wrists. “Maybe if I can get to the van’s bumper I can try to saw them in two.”

Just as she started to squirm in the direction she knew the van was parked, Carol said, “Wait. Did they lock the van? Or your car? If not, we could open the door, and the vehicle’s interior light would come on.”

“Oh my God, Carol. That’s genius!” Filled with gratitude, Bess didn’t allow herself to feel dumb for not thinking of that solution first. With her hands secured behind her back, she couldn’t figure out how to stand. “I can wiggle around but can’t get to my feet.”

“Me ei-ther. But then it would be hard for me,” Carol said, her voice hard.

“No, you’re doing great!”

Unable to get any leverage to stand, Bess wanted to cry in frustration. She had no idea how long they would have before one of the men returned. Bess heard Carol shifting around.

“There’s some-thing sharp here. I have it in my hands. Can you back o-ver to me?” Carol asked. “I can try to hold it up, and you can work it a-long your ties.”

Having no idea if the idea would work, Bess was willing to try anything. With difficulty, she managed to get to her knees and crawl toward Carol’s voice. By the time she’d gone just a few feet, she bumped into Carol, and they both fell over. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Carol assured. “Let’s see if we can get in position.”

“What do you have in your hands? If you're holding a knife, I don’t want to fall on it.”

“It feels sort of like a screwdriver, or at least some-thing long,” Carol said.

Still unsure how it might work, Bess managed to scoot to where her back was next to Carol’s back. Carol’s fingers felt for the ties on Bess’s wrists, and then she said, “Here I go. I’ll hold it still, and you move your hands up and down and see if this works to loosen or cut them.”

“If this works, you get a raise, for sure,” Bess said, hoping to add some levity to the seriousness of their situation.

It must have worked because a small chuckle erupted from Carol. Or maybe it was more of a scoff. It was hard to tell in the black-as-night room. Awkwardly feeling behind her, she managed to slip the tool Carol held erect under the plastic tie. Their movements were uncoordinated, and the tool fell out of Carol’s hands several times.

“I’m so sor-ry,” Carol cried.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re going to get out of here.”

“How a-bout you hold still and let me move the tool. I think I can do that.”

Bess strained against the ties until finally, with one last sawing motion from Carol and Bess stretching the ties even though she was sure her wrists were bleeding, the plastic snapped.

“Oh my God! We did it!”

Turning, she got up on her knees and quickly sawed through the plastic around Carol’s wrists. As soon as they were both free, they helped each other stand. Bess was worried that Carol might be injured, but she was assured she wasn’t.

Just as she was getting ready to try to move around toward the van door, a voice was heard. Bess’s heart dropped into her stomach, terrified that the men were back so quickly. She reached out blindly, her hand finding Carol’s, and they held on tightly. Now that she was close to the van door, she was afraid of opening it, making any noise, and turning on the van’s light.

“Maybe we can find something to use as a weapon,” Carol said. Carol’s words were brave, but Bess was afraid they’d be easily overpowered. The self-defense class she’d continued to put off now rose in her mind.

“Who’s there?”

Gasping, Bess heard the male voice, immediately knowing it wasn’t one of the men who’d grabbed them. She and Carol remained perfectly still in the darkness, their hands still clasped together.

“Who in the hell is in there? I could hear you, so don’t act like you can’t hear me!”

Mr. Williams! Bess let go of Carol’s hand to hurry forward but moved too suddenly. Her feet tangled in something on the floor, and unable to catch herself, she fell with a crash. Crying out in pain, she curled over, holding her leg. Her fingers encountered torn pants and then landed on wet oozing from the cut. “Oh God, I’m bleeding.”

Carol whispered, “I have the door handle.”

Suddenly, light burst forth, illuminating the van's interior and spilling out to land on Bess, who blinked and squinted at the welcome invasion. Thank God Carol got the door open! Bess looked down and gasped. A large slit was just above her knee in her jeans, the material now red with blood. Suddenly lightheaded, she was terrified of fainting before being rescued.

Carol moved closer, her gaze landing on Bess’s injury. “Oh God. What can I do?” In the pale light, Carol pulled off her blouse, leaving her in a short-sleeved T-shirt. Wrapping the material around Bess’s leg, she tied it tightly.

“Carol, listen—that’s Mr. Williams at the door. The owner. He can?—”

“What if he’s with them?”

Bess swiped at the hair sticking to her cheek, but the sticky feeling let her know she’d just smeared blood everywhere. Barely able to think with the pain, she said, “Can you make it to the door? Tell him Bess Crowder is here, and he needs to call 911.”

Carol got to her feet and awkwardly moved along the van until she came to the front. “Um… Mis-ter Will-iams?”

“Who’s there?”

“I’m here with Bess Crow-der. We were kid-napped and put in here. You need to call the she-riff. 911. Now. Please,” she begged.

“What? Whatcha say?”

“Shit.” Carol mumbled the curse, then said louder, “Call 911. Bess Crow-der and I are trapped.”

“Crowder? Okay, I’ll get you out!” came the shout in return.

Bess’s hands clutched the wound on her leg, trying not to see how bad it was. “Tell him 911 again.”

“Call 911. You need to get the police here!” Carol yelled. Speaking more softly, she said, “I hate yelling. It feels like we should be quiet.”

“I know. But we have to assume that if Mr. Williams is out there, then the guys who put us in aren’t around.”

It was silent for a few seconds, and then talking was heard. Bess prayed it was Mr. Williams calling for help and not the arrival of Flip or one of the others. Finally, a metallic rattle was heard, and a sliver of light appeared at the container door. Bess looked to see that Mr. Williams had wrenched the door open just an inch, but a chain keeping it locked was in place. Carol moved closer to the door.

“All right, I called the police!” he said, peeking through the slit.

“Thank God,” Bess breathed.

“We’ll get out of here,” she whispered as she moved back to where Bess lay. Bess grabbed her wrist, drawing Carol’s gaze up to her face and off her leg. “Carol, if Mr. Williams can get the door open a little bit before the deputies get here, then go with him.”

“I’m not lea-ving you,” Carol vowed.

“I ain’t got nothin’ here to pry open the door,” Mr. Williams said.

Carol’s head swung back and forth, and Bess realized she was looking for something. “See if you can find a long piece of metal that can wedge in the door.”

Carol made her way around to the other side of the van, then came back with a crowbar and a pair of huge bolt cutters. “Would this work?”

“Yes.” Bess nodded but inwardly groaned as she wondered how Carol would have the strength to work the cutters. Hating that she could not help, she kept pressure on her leg, knowing that passing out would be the worst thing she could do. The pain intensified, and she realized that bleeding out on the dirty floor would be worse.

Carol made it back to the door, where Mr. Williams peeked through. “Whatcha doing in there?” he asked. “You ain't Miz Crowder.”

“I’m with her. The men here took us and locked us in. She’s hurt,” Carol replied, trying to work the cutters onto the metal chain that was barely visible through the slit.

“Dammit, I knew something was wrong,” he muttered. “Can you find somethin’ else, girl? Like a crowbar?”

“I found one,” she said, dropping the cutters.

Bess prayed that Carol would have the strength necessary, unsure that Mr. Williams would.

“Are they around?” Carol whispered.

“Don’t see no one,” he replied. “Stick that thing through here, and we’ll see if we can get it open enough for you to get through.”

Bess wanted to watch what they were doing, but her leg was hurting in time with her pounding heart. With Carol's shirt tied around her leg, it seemed as though the bleeding had slowed. But she wasn’t sure it wasn’t just being absorbed with the extra material. Deep breathing, she twisted her head to look toward the door of the container, seeing Carol pushing against the end of the crowbar. But it didn’t look as though any progress was being made.