Heart of Fire (20 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

Annabel adjusted herself in the front seat of her car and took another mouthful of coffee, she had been watching the same home for the past two hours and there was no movement.   She enjoyed her job, it was a career she picked since she was a child and she had always had the talent for it.  Her investigative skills had always given her the upper hand over the other officers, and she knew it had led to her promotion, but lately she started to question her skills.  She questioned herself several times since she was released from the hospital if this was her happy ending, or would she do better as an investigator.  She loved the time it took to solve the puzzle, to locate information.  But the thrill of the chase was exhausting, and she had made several bad calls which could have cost her – her life, or worse, Danni’s life. 

Things were so much easier when I was a kid she thought looking out the window of her car and admiring the crisp copper leaves that fell from the trees and swayed gently in the autumn wind.  The clouds overlapped each other, making the sky a gloomy gray.  She could smell the sweet scent of cinnamon apple candles burning from one of the neighboring homes; it reminded her of her mothers’ pumpkin pie that would cool on the counter in the kitchen.  She closed her eyes and imagined frolicking through the leaves as they swayed up in the air and float back down, and couldn't help but let out a smile at this thought.  Oh what a joy autumn was she thought taking another gulp of her coffee.  She would make her decision after this case, until then she needed to focus and do what she did best, research and surveillance.

A faint tap on her window and a muffled whisper made her jump.  Frank stood at the door motioning her to open it and let him in. 

There was plenty of room in the large car, he stretched out his long legs and handed her a fresh coffee.  No words were exchanged for several moments as he checked his messages. 

Annabel watched his expressions, amused how the muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye while in deep thought.  His mouth formed a rigid grimace.  With arms folded tightly across his broad chest he tapped his foot furiously all the while he stared out of the grimy window.  She admired him; he was a skilled agent, tall, lean as a greyhound, flat-flanked, in color neither dark nor fair.  His eyes were deep-set and looked out from a face that was burned to the color of a brick.  His nose was straight and large, cheeks well hollowed.  His face appeared stern but the humor that lurked about the mouth was contradicting.  She knew she could learn so much from him if he would give her half a chance. 

“Anything yet?” his question came across more like a statement as he looked towards the dark house.

“No, and I have a feeling she’s on to us.”  She inhaled a deep breath of frustration.  She hated surveillance and this one was no different from the rest.  She sat for hours and no one would show. 

“Let’s go check it out,” he said as he stepped out into the darkness and crossed to the other side of the road.

“Wait up.  Don’t you think we should call for back-up?” she stated flatly, twisting the key out of the ignition.  She stopped and looked at the eerie house worried about the unknown that could be hiding in the shadows.  She had a bad feeling, something told her to call for back up, but she resisted as she pushed forward.  The ground was still wet from the rain, but the footsteps were still preserved in the grass around the house.  She tried to remember if she walked through it when she secured the premise earlier.  She measured her foot next to the one visible, but it was much larger.

He ignored her question and moved forward past the quiet row of homes and made his way down the deserted alleyway.  It was silent, and all the homes surrounding were still.  He could smell something; a similar sent he had smelled one too many times as he stepped closer.  The smell of death was thick in the air.  He pointed towards a house on the right side of the street.  “Did you see something move over there?” He pointed to the shadows.

On the side of the house, he worked the lock until it unlatched.  He peered just inside with his back to her as he spoke.  “I got it open, let’s go!”

“I don't know about this Frank, something feels wrong.”

She grew quiet, looking down at the ground as they walk toward the house.  She focused on the muddy footprints on the concrete similar to the ones in the grass.  She looked to her left and eyed the house next door that was badly in need of improvements.  The bricks were streaked by years of water that leaked from the tin gutters that ran along the roof.  The massive shutters, thrown back from the long windows, were rotting away.  Below the lifted panes very clean worn curtains hung slack like things exhausted by the heat. 

She cringed as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, even more so since she was not following him.  She had two choices and she could not let him go in alone, he already broke in and she knew they must act fast.

Frank could see the apprehension in her eyes.  “You can stay there if you want, I got this.”  He snorted under his breath, and stood alone in the doorway. 

“I don't like this, this doesn’t feel right.” 

He motioned his hand to his mouth and stepped around into the opening to the living room. 

He stepped slowly around the furniture, then stepped back alarmed when he thought he heard something.  He slowly pulled his gun from his holster and held it close to his side.

Slowly and decisively, he lurked in the dark.  The room must have deceived him, or else his eyes were confused and dazzled by the recent glare of the reading lamp.  For a minute or two he could make out nothing at all but dark lumps of furniture, the mass of the chest of drawers by the wall. 

Annabel followed close behind.  She felt like a school girl having to make a life altering decision, she could feel her breathing rapid and shallow.  She could feel the pulse pound in her temples, and her legs shook with each step.  Cold sweat glistened on her furrowed brow.  With hands clasped tightly in front of her stomach as she fiddled with her knuckles, weaving fingers in and out of each other

They moved from room to room, through draughty corridors cold air swept under doors like the tide on a frigid desolate beach.  Icy and bitter wind rattles the condensation covered single paned windows; water lazily drips to the rotting sill with its dirty cream cracked paint.  Spiders scurried in dark corners, their old webs flapping in dusty silence clinging to the wall with their ghostly fingers.

His heart throbbed in his throat as he walked into the last room.  He used a little flashlight he kept in his pocket to light the way.  When they moved to the last room, the odor he smelled earlier stung his nose.  He could smell death again as they looked around the room, before rushing over to the lifeless body in the middle as he shone the light.  The man lay twisted, distorted in his own blood.  He stepped closer, Annabel stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed as he looked at and placed his gun back into its holster at his waist.

They didn’t sense her presence as she walked casually towards them.  It wasn’t until she stood within two feet of them, that they realized but it was too late.  She emerged from behind, knocking him down with one blow.  He struggled to stand up, but he felt another painful blow to his right kidney.

Annabel grabbed her gun from the holster but she raced from the dark and charged her and knocked her against the door frame slamming her to the floor.  Annabel didn’t think twice she just knew she needed to get back on her feet so she wasn’t so vulnerable.  Desperate, she turned back to the door.  She squinted in the growing light from the flashlight lying on the floor and explored what seemed to be its edges of a pointed piece of metal.  The threat grew as she looked over her shoulder to see the shadow was carrying what looked to be a section of pipe.

She forced her fingers into the space occupied by the object she tried to grab it but the predator surged forward.  It swung at her several time until she crashed to the floor.  Her vision blurred as she turned her head on the cold floor, Frank’s limp body lay still, there were no signs of life, concern suddenly began to etch itself on her face as two pounding boots approached.  A thought occurred to her as darkness began to seep across her mind; she should have called for back-up.

She cried out as the dark figure pressed her own gun a little closer to the back of her head.  She tried to get up again but she placed her foot firmly on her back.  Frank wiped the blood from his lip on his long jacket before he lunged from his spot on the floor.

“Get away from her you BITCH!” he yelled as the darkness overtook him.  He was going to end this tonight. 

Annabel opened her eyes just enough to see the two stocky human silhouettes roll along the floor.  Ignoring the pain, she bolted straight up, the adrenalin coursed through her.  She charged the woman and pushed her into the windows.  The figure bent at the waist then sprang forward.  Before she could react, she was on her back and a large metallic object smashed against her head.  She could see through the beam of light that shone through the gaping hole in the window.  Silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a few shards of glass shattered on the ground.  Fear seeped into every poor, like a poison slowly paralyzing her from either speech or movement.

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A loud thump brought Annabel from her unconscious state.  She could not make a conscious thought, she was dizzy with pain and nausea, and when she tried to move, she was held in place.  She struggled to move, but her hands were bound tight behind her back.  Panic set in when she saw Frank, his head had drooped forward and over his chest, and a great mat of blood had spread like a bib.

Fear clawed its way through her body; it choked the breath from her lungs.  Salty tears spilled over onto her cheeks leaving a tight, dry feeling.  She screamed, but the gag that was tied around her mouth muffled the cries. 

She tried to call out for Frank, but he did not budge.  Desperate, she needed to think, the woman was gone but she was aware she would be back, she never left witnesses.  She would return and kill them as she did the rest.  She would leave their bodies like ghoulish mannequins; throats cut and displayed like butchered animals

She had to get free, she saw the shards of glass on the floor, she tried to stand but her ankles were bound tight as her wrists.  She scooted across the floor with her fingers; she pulled the glass to her.  With her hands tied behind her back, she began the slow work of sawing through the rope.  Blood gushed from open wounds on her hand making the glass slippery.  She fought hard to keep the pace.  She felt one stand let loose and knew if she pushed forward she would get the rest.  She smiled, one down, keep up the pace she said to herself.  “Have to get free,” she chanted over and over.

Frank opened his eyes, his body battered and bloody.  He pulled himself to an upright position and saw the mirror image of his own expression on Annabel’s face.

She tried to tell Frank she smelt smoke but the rag tied around her mouth muffled the sound.  They were trapped in a locked room, and the smoke billowed around the cracks around the door.  Frank realized what she was mumbling, and tried to fight against the material wrapped tightly around his mouth and the rope that bound his wrists and ankles.  He couldn't scream and he couldn't move.  The fire in the other room was raging.  The flames crept closer, slowly inching their way toward them.

Planks cracking above and the sound of the ceiling falling above them created panic.

He choked and gagged as he tried to lift up from the ground.

They could hear the roof burning and weakening of the support beams overhead.  The fire was almost upon them.  Annabel tried again to scream from behind her gag but no sound escaped before the roof in the other room gave way.  Her silent screams echoed inside her head.  It was almost on top of them.

“We’ve got to get free,” she cried but the words sounding more like a mumble. 

Frank fidgeted with his knot that bound his hands, he struggled and pulled but it would not budge.  He witnessed the look of panic on Annabel’s face that matched his own.  He leaned towards her.  His back to hers, and with his fingers he struggled with the knot that bound her hands.

The harder he struggled to untie her, the more she realized there was no hope, even with as much as she cut, the rope was too thick.  She tugged harder to remove the cloth that bound her mouth.  Finally it fell around her neck. 

Frank tried harder in vain to untangle the ropes that firmly bound his hands.  The knots were just too strong.  The gag in his mouth forced him to inhale smoke through his nose, which burned with every breath and it was getting harder to do by the minute.

He stopped to slow his breathing, he needed a rational thought.  After all, he was an FBI Agent who had gotten himself out of worse situations.  Then it occurred to him, he was like a lab rat, an experiment the F.B.I put on, to find a person strong enough, quick enough and smart enough to solve crimes and help the world.  But with all his training, it never included being tied up in a burning house.

Frantically he looked around the room.  The door was still closed, but through the cracks he could partially see the light from the fire.  Instantly he adjusted his eyes.  He peered up to the boarded broken window; if he could stand up he could throw himself against it and loosen the wood from the frame.

He tried to scoot himself up the wall, but a sharp pain halted him.  He looked down to the origin of the pain, and the metallic pipe protruded, the sharp edge forced through his leg and pushed through the skin on the other side.  He cried in pain when he tried to move again.  He allowed himself to slide back down.  His head felt light and he had to fight to regain conscious.  He was losing blood fast and he had no way to stop it.