Page 110 of Ruthless Cross

"Or you could be lying about everything."

"I could be, but I'm not. I wish you could believe me."

"I wish I could, too."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Callie opened her eyes,blinking in confusion, as her brain tried to process where she was, what was happening. Everything was fuzzy. Her head didn't hurt, but her vision was blurry. As she tried to reach for her eyes to rub the sleep out of them, she realized her hands were tied behind her back. She was half-lying, half-sitting on a cold stone floor, and in front of her were stacks of crates and a couple of paintings propped against the wall. The room was small, no more than ten by ten, with a tall window with diamond-paned glass that held specks of green and coral.

It was strange to see such a pretty window in what amounted to a large closet or storage area.Where the hell was she?

She didn't remember that kind of window on the museum building or at the gallery where Flynn had gone to meet Gretchen, but she was in some place connected to art. She just wished she knew how she'd gotten here.

She remembered standing outside the hospital, waiting for her car, when someone had grabbed her and pressed something against her nose so she couldn't breathe. Then she'd been shoved into a van.Had she seen her kidnappers?She didn't think so, but there had to have been two of them—the driver and the one who had come up behind her.

She sat up, her gaze taking in as many details as she could. Along with the high window that would be difficult to reach, there was one door. She managed to get to her feet and walk over to the door. She turned around so she could wrap her hand around the knob and try to open it, but the knob didn't move; it was locked.

She looked for some other way out. There was a good-sized ceiling vent, but how would she get up there with nothing to stand on, and her hands tied behind her back?

Fear started to take hold as she realized the seriousness of her predicament, which was followed by questions.Why had someone wanted to kidnap her? What did they think she knew? How had they known she was at the hospital? Why did they want her alive when other people had already been killed?

She could only come up with one answer. Someone wanted to use her for something.To get to her mother? To get to Flynn?

But how would kidnapping her gain anyone anything? She wasn't rich and Arthur's money was tied up. Even if her mother wasn't in the hospital, she probably couldn't get her hands on much.

If it wasn't about money, then it had to be about something else…

The painting. Of course! It had to be about the painting. Flynn had taken it from the house in Palm Springs. It was in a secure location. If the killer was desperate to get it back, then they needed leverage, and she was it.

She wondered if Flynn already knew she was gone. He'd be going out of his mind, blaming himself for leaving her on her own. But she was the idiot who had decided she wasn't in danger, who thought she could just call a car and go home.

She drew in an angry breath, but she told herself to focus, think.

That brought her mind to Flynn's father.How was he tied into all this? Had his father's sudden reappearance been a way to separate Flynn and herself?

She looked around for her bag, but it was nowhere in sight. Obviously, the kidnappers had not wanted to leave her with a phone. But maybe Flynn could trace her phone and figure out where she was, unless her phone had been tossed out along the way. That was probably the case.

Her heart was pounding against her chest, and she felt close to panic, because the truth was hitting her in the face.She might be leverage now, but what about later? What about when the kidnappers got what they wanted? Would she be able to survive?

She had to find a way to save herself. She had her mom to take care of. She had a life she wanted to live. And she wasn't going down without a fight.

She slowly twisted her hands and wrists, flattening out her fingers, so that the tie would loosen. After a few minutes, she felt a bit more space, but her skin was already starting to sting from the friction. She had to get free before anything swelled up. She tried to make herself as calm as possible, closing her eyes and using yoga mantras to loosen her muscles, to release her tension, to make herself as small and flexible as possible. She would turn herself into a boneless mass.

Pulling one hand up and the other down, a twist of the wrist one way, then the other, and to her shock and amazement, one hand came free. She pulled the tie off her other arm and shook her arms out, feeling an amazing wave of relief. At least she had her hands.Now what?

She could possibly break one of the frames apart, use the jagged edge as a weapon. But it wouldn’t do much against a gun.

Her gaze moved to the ceiling once more, then over to the window. There was a small sill on the window, wide enough to stand on. She might be able to reach the vent from there.But how could she get up on the sill?

There were a couple of crates in the room. She dragged them over to the window, putting one on top of the other. Standing on the highest one, she could put her hands on the window. She tried pressing down and jumping, but she couldn't land herself high enough. She got down, digging through the pile of stuff in the corner of the room, feeling a bit more triumphant as she found three cans of paint. She placed them on her makeshift ladder and managed to get her knee onto the windowsill. She pulled herself up from there, using the window lever for support.

A bit more maneuvering, and she got herself into a squatting position. Bracing her hand against the window, she slowly stood up and now she was close enough to the ceiling to push the vent open. The square space was about three-feet wide, plenty big enough for her to crawl through. But it took all the courage she had to release the window and grab the edges of the vent, swinging her legs into the air.

For a moment, she thought she was going to fall, but somehow she managed to hang on and pull herself up into the vented crawl space. She was really grateful now for the bootcamp she'd taken last summer.

Her eyes took a second to adjust to the dim light, but through the crawlspace she could see a shimmer of light. She scooted along on her hands and knees, having to squeeze herself through narrow passageways and around large ducts. As she reached another vent, she looked down, seeing a hallway below her.

There was no one in sight. She carefully pulled the cover off and then she lowered her body out of the vent, dropping the last few feet to the floor. She winced as she hit the ground, hoping that no one had heard her land. Thankfully, there were large canvases leaning across the railing in front of her, blocking her from the view below.

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