Page 72 of The Last Straw

“Yes, ma’am. I know she’s unconscious right now, but if she begins to wake up, please let us know. We need to talk to her. We still don’t have an identity on the man who took her.”

“Yes, sir, I will. I want him caught as much as you do. When her condition changes, I will let you know.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” Floyd said and then hung up.

He paused then, looking around the lobby at all the chaos. Residents were coming and going, carrying luggage to their cars, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He was unhappy that Carson had moved all of his suspects without notice, even though he could not have expected them all to stay put after what had happened. And then Allen Carson walked up and Floyd frowned at him.

“The least you could have done was run this mass exodus by me first,” Floyd said.

Allen’s disapproval at being reprimanded showed, both by the look on his face and the tone of his voice.

“Surely, you did not expect they would stay here. I’ve been inundated with people wanting to break their leases. Some of them were already packing up to leave anyway. I have to tear down that passage and tunnel, remove those access doors and rebuild the walls. You should thank me that I’ve kept them all in one place for you.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that foresight was wise, and it will help,” Floyd said.

Allen shrugged. “We just need to both pray that Rachel Dean wakes up and names the bastard. Oh...just so you know. This will be your only notice. Get all of the pictures and evidence you need from this property, and whatever else you want to take to make your case, because in two days we’re tearing into this place like a Texas tornado. I’m sick that this passage was never revealed to me when I bought it. And I can’t believe it wasn’t discovered during remodeling. If it had been, none of these women would have been fair game for a madman. Do we understand each other?” Allen said.

Floyd nodded. “Understood.”

Allen was satisfied he had a plan, but he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he found out why that passageway had ever existed.

He knew two people who might be able to help him. One was a historian, familiar with the city of Dallas, and the other was the last living relative of the original family. He’d never spoken to the old man, because he’d never had a reason to, but he was going to do so now.

Wyrick was asleep when Charlie drove through the gates of the old mansion, taking care to close them behind him before driving around back to park.

“We’re home,” he said as he pulled up at the doorway to the basement apartment where she used to live.

Wyrick opened her eyes then sat up, but Charlie was already out and opening her door to help her out.

She looked up at him from inside the Jeep and then pointed a finger at him.

“I’m walking in. I do not need to be carried.”

Charlie said nothing.

She rolled her eyes and got out. Now all she had to do was stay upright, or he would ignore what she’d just said. She just knew it.

As they started up the steps of the old veranda, she held on to the railing, and Charlie held on to her. She was too shaky to care. This felt like chemo. Like she was hollow. The only thing missing was the nausea and pain.

By the time they got inside, Charlie was out of patience and picked her up anyway.

“Nobody’s looking now, so don’t gripe. You and I both know you’re not gonna make it up the stairs, and you’re not gonna make it to the elevator, either.”

She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Charlie’s heart hurt for her. All the way up. All the way down the hall to her room. Even after he laid her down on her bed and pulled off her shoes.

And when she rolled over onto her side and curled up in a ball, it was too reminiscent of how he’d found Rachel. Tears welled as he pulled a blanket over her shoulders.

“I will be back to check on you,” he said, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Barrett Taylor had a visitor. He knew it was his lawyer, but he didn’t know why he was here, unless it was to tell him they’d been given a trial date. Still, it was a break from the routine of jail so he didn’t mind.

Marsh Fielding was sitting at the table in the visitation room when the guard brought Barrett into the room, cuffed and shackled.

Barrett took a seat on the other side of the table, and waited as the guard cuffed him to the table.

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