The firm sand of the beach was the perfect place for a man to run. And his mind was free to range where it would. He’d told himself he needed a vacation, and yet he knew it was more than that. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for him in this place—something unknown. Part of him wanted to flee back to Maryland. And part of him was damned if he was going to try and outrun his destiny.
As he’d passed a row of palatial houses, he’d wondered who owned them. One place in particular had caught his interest because of the fencing around the property. What kind of person would buy a house along the shore and then block access to the water?
Previously he’d seen an old guy, usually wearing a Hawaiian shirt, standing out on the patio and scanning the beach or perhaps staring out into the blue water. Now he could see two other men dressed in knit shirts and jeans on the veranda. They were big, tough looking guys poking around inside the storage boxes that served as part of the seating and leaving the cushions where they’d scattered onto the veranda. One of them picked up something Zane couldn’t see and stuffed it into his pocket.
As Zane watched, he was unable to tamp down his detective’s curiosity. Something was out of pattern here, and he’d like to know what.
He could have assumed that these men were friends of the old guy, but they weren’t treating his property very kindly.
He jogged farther down the beach, then cut to the right, away from the ocean, onto the grounds of a nearby house. Ducking into the tropical vegetation, he made his way back toward the fence in time to see one of the newcomers open the gate and step onto the sand. He shaded his eyes, as though he were trying to see if anybody was observing him and his companion before heading back to the veranda. It was getting dark now, and it looked like they were planning something. Perhaps the wolf could get close enough to figure out what.
###
Francesca wasn’t sure how long she had stayed hidden. It seemed like years, but she knew it could only have been a few hours.
Was it safe to come out? She wished she knew. She hadn’t heard any noises in the house for a long time, but that didn’t prove anything. They could be lying low, waiting for her to think it was okay to make a run for it.
She was still trying to decide what to do when she detected an acrid smell. It took a few moments for her to realize it was smoke, not the welcoming scent of a campfire but the nasty tang of burning domestic materials.
Oh Lord, the house must be on fire. And she had to assume the two men had done it.
She picked up the flashlight and leaped to the front of her hiding place, shining the light over the vertical surface, but she could see nothing that looked like a latch. Was it something that worked by pressure. She tucked the flashlight under her arm and slid her hands against the wall, trying to find some mechanism that would open the hidden door. Again nothing.
As the smoke seeped into the space behind the closet, she struggled to keep from coughing and giving herself away. Although panic threatened to cut off logical thought, she knew that she didn’t have much time to save herself. She’d read somewhere that you had about three minutes to get out of a burning house because the furnishings and the building materials were so flammable.
In the distance she could hear the wail of sirens. The fire department was on the way, although it would be too late to save her. She had to get out of the house, but she couldn’t escape the compartment at the back of the closet by the way she’d come in. That meant there had to be another exit. Again she shined the flashlight over the walls, this time focusing on the remaining three. In one of the short walls, she saw a small chink at the corner. When she pressed on it, the panel slid back. She wanted to dash out, but what if one of the killers was waiting on the other side? Cautiously she peered through and saw a long narrow passageway. Behind her more smoke seeped into the room, and it felt like the walls were getting hot. With no other choice, she stepped into the tunnel and ran along the passage. It ended in another blank wall, but this time when she shined the light over it, she detected the same kind of crack she’d seen before. If she stepped through, would one of the killers be standing there?
The crackling of flames behind her warned that she couldn’t’ delay. Clenching her teeth, she pressed on the latch, then held her breath as the wall slid open. It was almost dark outside, but as far as she could see, she was alone, staring into dense tropical foliage. With no other choice, she stepped out beside a bush with green and yellow variegated leaves. She seemed to be at the side of the house. And as she recalled the view of the mansion from the circular drive, she thought she must also be at the back side of the garage.
Moving cautiously through the bushes and flower beds, she peered out and saw the fence. Could she get to it? Would the gate be locked? Or had the men left it open for their own escape.
They must be watching for her. Or maybe they had decided it was too dangerous to stay with a fire truck coming.
She thanked God when she saw the gate was open a sliver. She made a dash for it. Before she reached it, one of the killers stepped from behind a clump of bushes. When he raised his arm, she saw the gun in his hand.