Back Before Dark (30 page)

C
ooper couldn’t hear the water rushing in anymore. The basement got quiet as a closet, and felt just as small. They stood on the washer lid, connected by Coop’s belt. The water was at their chins.

“D-did it s-stop?” Gordy’s voice sounded hoarse. Weak.

Cooper shook his head. The water was above the windows now so they couldn’t hear it rushing in. But it was still coming. Relentless. Greedy. Wanting more.

Cooper had no idea if his handmade survival coat was helping keep Gordy’s body warmer. Gordy was conscious, and in his right mind. That was something. There was nothing they could do now but wait. Cooper’s cheeks hurt from clamping his teeth so tight against the cold. He fought back panic. They were going to drown. Freeze. Not sure which first.

Had he known this would happen? No. But he knew baiting the kidnapper was beyond risky. Hiro would call it crazy—and it was.

But his plan had been to find Gordy and escape together. Cooper got it half-right, anyway. So maybe the plan was only half-crazy.

“C-coop?” Gordy stammered. “I’m s-scared.”

It wouldn’t do Gordy any good to know that panic was clawing
its way up Cooper’s throat. “W-we’re okay.”
Keep it together. Keep it together.
“S-snorkel t-time, cousin.” Cooper handed Gordy one of the PVC tubes. “J-just like we p-practiced. N-nothing t-to it.”

Gordy took the tube and looked at Cooper. “T-thanks, C-coop.” He worked purple lips around the white PVC.

It wasn’t the snorkel Gordy was talking about. Cooper knew that. Tears were filling Cooper’s eyes as fast as Salt Creek was filling the basement. This was it. What do you say to your best friend when you know you’ll never see him again? How could he possibly tell him everything he should? Cooper swallowed down the lump in his throat.
You can’t.
“Adios, a-amigo.”

Gordy nodded once, his eyes wide.

Cooper inserted the makeshift PVC pipe snorkel into his mouth. Closed his lips around it. Braced it along the joist and raised it up nearly to the ceiling next to Gordy’s. Did his best to hold it there against his violent shaking. He felt stable enough standing on the washer to let go of the joist by his head. He slid his free arm around Gordy’s waist. Pulled him close. He felt Gordy do the same. No matter what happened, they were in this together.

The flashlight slipped from his numb fingers—disappearing immediately beneath the water. Darker now. Way darker. In the dark, things are never what they seem, right? How many times had he read stories about guys in a really dark place—but things turned out amazingly well? There’s always hope. Always. Cooper clung to that thought as tight as he did the PVC in his mouth.

But this was
different.
It was happening—to him.

He should be praying, right? Begging for his life—or making sure he was ready to die. But it was cold. So cold He felt Gordy grip him tighter. Cooper squeezed back.

Please God.

The water climbed over Cooper’s mouth, nose. He struggled against an urge to scream. He closed his eyes tight.
In the dark, things are never what they seem.
Sometimes they’re worse.

The icy black water rose over his head.

H
iro yanked the minivan handle. Locked.

“Give me some light,” Lunk said, brushing past her.

Hiro moved up beside him and shone the light through the tinted windows. “See anything?”

Lunk cupped his hands and scanned through the side windows. “Nothing.” He turned and checked the Honda parked beside it. “Clear.”

Hiro already had her phone out, dialed, pushed send.

“Hammer.”

“This is Hiro.” She could barely breath. “We found the minivan.”

“Where.”

“In a garage near Lark Court.” She gave him an approximate address. “Realty sign out front. Mailbox post, but no box.”

“Don’t move. I’m coming.”

She hung up and jumped at a crashing sound. Lunk took out the window of the compact car and reached inside.

“What are you doing?” Hiro shouted.

“Trunk latch.” Lunk grunted, and the trunk popped open. Instantly he was there, leaning in for a closer look in the dim light. “He’s not here.”

Cooper had to be in the house. Hiro shined her flashlight on the door—and the light reflected off a trail of water leading inside. “Tracks!” But were they going in—or out?

“I’m not waiting for the police,” Lunk said. He checked the doorknob. “It’s unlocked.”

Hiro stood so close she could feel Lunk’s body tense.

Lunk took a fresh grip on the bat, and pulled open the door. The room inside was still—and dark. “Give me that light.”

Hiro handed him the flashlight and followed him inside.

Lunk gave the room a fast sweep with the beam. They were in a kitchen. He aimed at the floor. The wet tracks led to a door—with a latch and padlock on it. It had to be the basement.

“They’re down there,” Hiro said. “I know it.” Alarms started going off in her head.
The water trail—it was leaving the house. Had to be. The basement is flooding.
Fear knifed into her.

Hiro yanked the bat from Lunk’s hand and swung it at the lock. It lurched and jerked, but held strong. She hit it again.

Lunk grabbed the bat and stopped her from whacking it a third time. “You won’t bust it open that way.”

“We have to get down there,” Hiro said.

“Back up,” Lunk said. He raised the bat over his head and came down on the lock like he was splitting a log with an ax. The entire latch and lock clattered to the floor.

Police cars squealed to a stop outside. Flashing lights bounced in through the windows.

Lunk locked the beam of the flashlight on the door, pulled it open—and froze.

Hiro squeezed past him to see.

Water filled the stairwell. Black. Still.

“Cooper!” Hiro screamed. “Coop!” She dropped on her knees on the hallway floor. “Dear God, no!”

The entire basement was flooded. Right up to the top of the stairs.

L
unk made himself as small as possible in the corner of the kitchen. The place was crawling with cops, firemen, and paramedics. He wanted to stay out of the way so nobody would tell him he had to leave. Hiro stood with him, her tiny frame shaking with tremors. Cold? Fear? Spasms of grief? Take your pick.

Hammer directed operations from the kitchen. Coop’s dad stood knee deep on the stairs looking lost.

Lunk knew the feeling. He’d been lost for years. But somehow Coop had changed that. Along with help from Gordy and Hiro. Lunk belonged now. Or at least he had.

But not anymore. If they lost Coop, he’d drift again.
If they lost Coop
? Lunk was too realistic to believe anybody could survive in that basement.

Hammer pointed at an officer. “Get public works out here. Now. I want this basement pumped out.”

The policeman nodded and disappeared down the hall.

Gordy’s dad stepped in from the garage, his face pale … eyes haunted. Maybe he had to check the van for himself. Hoping Gordy wasn’t in the basement—like everybody in the room knew he was. Probably Cooper, too.

Lunk tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

If Lunk had any idea Coop would have tried something like this he’d have—what would he have done? Stopped him? Gone with him? He’d have done something.

The two dads hugged for a moment on the steps. What would it be like to have a dad who loved like that?

Two firefighters stepped in the room. Lunk recognized one of them.

“Dave Rill,” the fireman said. He pointed to the man behind him. “Mark Hayden.” He stared at the flooded basement. “Rolling Meadows has a dive van here now, but no team. Closest team is Arlington Heights. There’s a call in to their chief already.”

Hammer glanced at his watch, obviously making calculations in his head. The same ones Lunk made. By the time they got here, it would be over. It already was.

Hammer’s jaw clenched. “How fast can they be suited up and in the water?”

“Their regular dive team can’t touch a confined space rescue.” Rill looked at the flooded stairwell. “They’ll need a specialty team of at least three divers—and that may take fifteen minutes to assemble. But once they’re here?” Rill glanced toward Coop’s dad. “Dry suits. Full gear. Under ten minutes. Easily. One diver down. A rescue diver on the surface to help him if he gets in trouble. And a ninety-percenter ready to go if needed.”

Safety regulations. Three men suited up? Of course, it made sense. It was all about saving lives. But in this case they’d be too late.

Even Hammer had the same opinion. Lunk could read him.

“There’s a chance the Arlington Heights chief won’t authorize the team,” Hayden said. “‘Risk a little to save a little. Risk a lot to save a lot,’ It’s a saying they have.” He looked apologetic. “Unless you’ve heard tapping—or some way to be sure somebody is actually down there—they’ll wait for the pumps.”

In other words, they’d likely assume Cooper was dead—if he was in the basement at all. And they wouldn’t risk a diver unless they were sure Coop was alive to rescue. It wasn’t hard to figure
out what Hayden was really saying. The chief would probably treat this as a recovery mission. Pump the basement. Then recover the bodies.

“I’m a certified diver.” Cooper’s dad stepped up. “You said you have gear—here?”

Was he going to go in himself? The desperation on his face was too much.

Rill hesitated. Like he was torn between thinking like a dad and following the official safety procedures.

Hammer nodded.

Rill obviously saw it. “Come with me.”

Decision made, Rill rushed out of the room with Cooper’s dad … and Gordy’s dad right behind them.

Two cops looked at Hammer. By the looks on their faces, they figured Hammer just made a tactical—and maybe even a
career
error.

Hammer’s jaw clenched. “Mr. MacKinnon has a son in that basement. Any dad in this room can imagine what that must be like.” He looked down the hall like he wanted to be sure they weren’t headed back yet. “We are
not
going to stand here and make him wait for the dive team. Understood?”

The cops nodded.

Hammer pointed at the basement door with his flashlight. “Let’s get that thing off its hinges, give’ em some room to work.”

Two firemen entered the kitchen with a couple of emergency lights on stands and started setting up. Another fireman swung in a cord running from a generator outside.

Cooper’s dad, and the others with him, were back in little more than a minute hauling two air tanks and other gear. Immediately Rill screwed a regulator on the tank valve and cranked on the air. Mr. MacKinnon slid a mask over his face, and started down the stairs—like he was going to go down for a look even before he had air.

“Ready,” Rill said. “Take it.” He hustled down a couple steps
and helped Coop’s dad shrug the tank assembly over his shoulders. Mr. MacKinnon quickly buckled the waist strap in place and added a weight belt over it.

Rill handed him a diver’s flashlight even as Coop’s dad rushed down the steps again.

He was going in without a dry suit.

The water had to be cold. But Cooper’s dad didn’t hesitate. He put the regulator mouthpiece in place, took a deep, Darth Vader-sounding breath, and disappeared under the black waters.

A giant mushroom of bubbles broke the surface, and for a moment, a dim light from the flashlight glowed—then nothing. The light faded. No more bubbles.

The firemen switched on the emergency lighting, making Lunk squint and lower his head.

Rill was already halfway into a dry suit. Another fireman readied the second air tank.

Lunk watched in silence. It looked like these men were breaking more than one safety regulation.
Risk a lot to save a lot.
There was definitely a lot at risk here.

Hiro dropped on her knees and clenched her hands in front of her. Her lips moved, but Lunk couldn’t hear a word she said.

She’s praying.
And obviously not ashamed to do it—even in a room full of cops, paramedics, and firemen. She had guts, but her prayers seemed pointless. The way he saw it, God fell asleep at the switch or something. He missed his cue. Was slow on the draw. If he was going to rescue Coop, he was doing too little, too late.

One by one the paramedics and cops in the room bowed their heads as well. Were they actually praying—or were they showing respect?

Lunk couldn’t be sure. But the room grew very quiet. It didn’t look anything like a rescue scene. Not to him. It looked a lot more like a funeral.

H
iro heard the bubbles burst and echo in the stairwell. She darted past Hammer and rushed to the basement entrance as Cooper’s dad surfaced—alone.

Her heart dropped into an abyss—one with no bottom in sight. Mr. MacKinnon pulled the regulator from his mouth. The dive mask couldn’t hide the fear and pain etched on his face. “N-need b-bolt cutters. They’re chained.”

Rill nodded to a nearby fireman. The fireman ran from the room.

Chained
? She wanted to scream. And he said
they’re.
Coop and Gordy were both down there. What kind of animal chained them in the basement and left them to drown? She wanted to run. Get away. Escape.
Die.

She felt Detective Hammer’s hand on her shoulder. He squeezed once—probably just to let her know he was there. That he understood.

Cooper’s dad put the regulator back in his mouth. His whole body was shaking.

“Go,” Rill said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Cooper’s dad nodded and ducked back under. Rill seated his mask, handed one of the other firemen his safety line, and turned
on his dive light. The fireman hustled back with the cutters and handed them to Rill. Instantly Rill disappeared into the flooded basement.

Gordy’s dad slumped to the floor, his back against the wall.

The room went silent again. It struck Hiro as odd that nobody had asked Cooper’s dad the obvious question when he’d surfaced.
Are they alive
? Nobody asked—because everybody knew the answer.