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Jasmine smiled. “That’s a surprise. But you’ll understand the symbolism. You should have just enough time to piece it together before you die. Oh, and before you say I won’t get away with murder, you should know I won’t have to. This is going to look like a murder-suicide. By the time they find you, the chairs and ropes will all be gone. Although the authorities will find some interesting evidence on your phone, Ellie.” She waved the device in front of her as she spoke.
Ellie couldn’t help but cast a glance at Asher. His jaw was set, and his lips spread in a thin line. The intensity in his eyes as he stared at Jasmine made Ellie shiver.
“No one will believe it,” he said.
She shrugged. “Won’t matter what they believe if they can’t prove otherwise. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be going. I’m glad we’ve had this chat, though. I’m glad you know why you’re going to die. It’s much more satisfying. Again, I hadn’t planned it this way, but sometimes, when we go off script, we get a much better story, don’t we?”
Jasmine didn’t wait for an answer before turning and jogging up the stairs. A door opened then closed. Then Ellie heard it lock.
“Are you okay, Asher?” she asked, inching her chair around to face him in a series of hops and turns.
“Head hurts like a bitch, but I’m fine. You?”
She offered him a rueful smile. “Physically fine. I’ll probably need more therapy after this. But first things first—”
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said.
Her smile turned genuine. “Look at us, finishing each other’s sentences already,” she said. “Now, please tell me you have a plan that involves that wall you’ve managed to make your way to?”
He cocked his head and started moving his shoulders, no, his arms, up and down. “If you’re the sort to pray, now might be a good time. I have a plan. I just hope it works in time.”
She followed his gaze to where Jasmine had exited. When her eyes adjusted to the shadows, fear shot through her body.
Smoke—thick, gray smoke—slid under the door and fell, like a dark, spectral waterfall down the stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“I guess she plans to cleanse my sin with fire,” Ellie said, her eyes following the trail of smoke.“Other than pray, what can I do?”
Her response almost drew a smile from Asher. She may be the queen of the big screen, but she was one of the least dramatic people he knew. No wailing or crying from her. Nope. Just pure practicality.
“If you think you can shimmy over here, I’d prefer to have you closer to me. But it’s not strictly necessary,” he replied.
“What are you doing over there?” Ellie asked as the legs of her chair screeched and skidded along the concrete floor. Without Jasmine watching over them, Ellie moved much faster than he had.
“There’s a metal bracket behind me. It has a snag in the edge that I’m using to cut the rope.”
He looked toward the stairs as he sawed away. The smoke had thickened, and an eerie flickering light glowed under the door. Anger shot through him as the reality sank in that his family’s historical home would likely be gone by the end of the day—destroyed by a madwoman. But he needed to channel that emotion into getting himself and Ellie safe. He’d think about the rest later.
The rope gave and loosened around his wrist. Not enough to free himself, but one step closer. Redoubling his efforts, he sawed his hands up and down, up and down.
“She left my purse here,” Ellie said, then coughed. The heaviest of the smoke hadn’t reached them yet, but particles were wafting into the cavernous space.
“I guess a purse is the right accessory for a murder-suicide,” Asher said. Ellie shot him a flat look. “Too soon to make light of the situation?” He smiled as one more strand of the rope broke apart.
“If you could wait until we’re both out of here, I’d appreciate it. But that wasn’t what I was thinking. Once you’re free, I have one of those multi-use utility things in there. Harry makes me carry it. It might be easier to use that to cut me free than to try to untie me.”
“Other than ‘help is here,’ I don’t think you could have found a better thing to say to me,” Asher said, scanning the room. He spotted Ellie’s purse on the ground not ten feet away as another strand gave way.
Finally, the rope snapped and fell from his wrists. Without hesitation, he shook them out then bent to look at the knots tying his feet to the chair. The very complicated knots.
“Change of plan,” he said, rising from his seat. He couldn’t straighten all the way, not with his legs still bound. But he could get enough movement to shift the chair quickly toward Ellie’s purse.
“I’m sorry that you got sucked into this,” Ellie said.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, El. You’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, now less than three feet from her bag.
He thought she might try to say more, but she held her tongue. Itwasn’ther fault, although he could understand how she might carry some guilt. Regardless, they needed to concentrate on getting out. A feat made trickier by the fire above them and a heavy utility shelf blocking the basement egress door. The placement of the shelf wasn’t exactly up to code, but he could count on one hand the number of times someone came down to the basement in any given season.
