Page 72 of The Texas Murders

I freeze in my tracks, uncertain whether I should proceed. Apparently they turned off the electricity but not the gas,and somewhere down in this basement is a leak. I know I should alert Carlos and Ava—tell them to get out of the building—but it occurs to me that it’s probably just an open valve, which I could easily close.

I holster my gun—if I fired a shot, I’d blow up the whole damn basement—and I take out a handkerchief from my pocket to cover my mouth. I move forward, cautious but quick, into a spacious room with a dozen or more circular tables and stacks of chairs along one wall. Across the room is a counter for serving food, with a rolling divider—like a miniature garage door—separating the dining area from what I assume is the kitchen. I search the dusty floor for tracks and see them leading toward the kitchen. I head that way.

The basement is warm and stuffy, and I can feel my shirt clinging to my skin. I use the handkerchief to wipe a rivulet of sweat running from my hat band down the side of my face. I shine the light under every table I pass.

The smell is overpowering now, and my head is starting to hurt.

I shoulder the door to the kitchen open and shine my flashlight inside. The air is so thick with gas that I gag. My eyes water. I take a step forward and almost fall over when a wave of vertigo hits me. This doesn’t seem like such a smart idea now, but I’ve come this far and I don’t want to turn back until I see where the gas is coming from.

An industrial-sized grill, like the kind you’d see in a restaurant, sits across the room, and I hobble toward it, careful of my steps.

I hear gas hissing.

I get to the other side of the stove, and panic grips my heart when I see what’s happening.

The pipe coming out of the wall has been cut in two—probably by the same tool that cut the chains—and a thin line of white vapor sprays into the room.

I hear a loud clattering noise in the direction I just came from.

Chains.

I burst out of the kitchen and run across the dining area. Through the small windows on the doors, I spot the light of a flashlight out by the stairwell. The doors themselves rattle as whoever is out there feeds the chains back through the handles.

I draw my gun and give one of the doors a solid kick. The metal door only opens a crack before closing again. I shine my light through the door window to see a man outside the door, his face covered in a gas mask—not your typical paper-thin painter’s mask but an air-purifying respirator. Through the Plexiglas face shield, I can tell the man has a scar going through his left eye, just like the image of Llewellyn Carpenter in his mug shot.

I point my SIG Sauer at him through the window.

“Go ahead,” he says, his voice muffled but audible through the mask and doors. “You’ll blow the whole goddamn building to kingdom come.”

CHAPTER 62

AS I AIM my pistol at Llewellyn Carpenter’s face, I’m tempted to do as he says. I’d willingly sacrifice my own life to keep the evil son of a bitch from kidnapping any more women. But if I pull the trigger, the explosion will not only kill us; it might also kill Ava and Carlos.

Assuming they’re still alive.

Carpenter has a look of demented glee on his face as he steps back from the window.

“Carlos!”I shout.“Ava! Get out of the building!”

My throat is thick with mucus, making it hard to breathe. My eyes stream tears, blurring my vision. My head pounds with the worst headache I’ve ever experienced.

I keep my light on Carpenter, who wears a small knapsack and has a large set of bolt cutters tucked into his belt. Next to the tool is a sight that stops me cold.

Carlos’s Colt sticks out of his waistband.

“Ava!”I scream so hard my vocal cords feel like they’re going to shred.“There’s a gas leak. Carpenter is going to blow the building up!”

Working with a bemused grin on his face, Carpenter sloughs off his knapsack and reaches inside, pulling out a small rectangular canister of what looks like lighter fluid. He pops the top off the canister and squirts a stream toward the door. Then he pulls out Carlos’s gun and begins ascending the stairs, leaving a trail of flammable liquid behind him.

“Ava!”I roar.“It’s a trap. Get out!”

I shake the door with all my strength, but the chains won’t budge. I might be able to punch out the window—even with the reinforcement wire—but that wouldn’t do me any good. It’s too small for me to crawl through, and I couldn’t simply reach through and unlock the doors. I would need something to break the chains. If not for the gas, I’d shoot through the door until I hit the chains. But the moment the first spark ignites inside the gun, flames would fill the basement and burn me alive. The concussive force might blow the whole building off its foundation.

I pull out my phone to warn Ava, but—it must be because I’m in the basement—I don’t have any service.

I spin around and shine my light throughout the room. If my flashlight wasn’t already on, I’d worry that it might be enough to ignite the fumes. But it’s waterproof, and I assume no gas can get inside where there might be sparks between the contacts.

I’d been so preoccupied lately with all my close calls in gunfights, I figured a bullet was waiting for me in my future.I never dreamed that the way I’d go would be natural gas poisoning—or being incinerated in a fiery explosion.

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