CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
May raced toward the source of the sound, wild hope surging inside her, because this voice meant someone was alive. She rushed around to the back of the house, where there was a paved courtyard.
Had he built the basement underneath here? He must have. She couldn’t see a way in, so she guessed that this prison must be accessed from inside the house.
With no time to waste, May charged the back door of the farmhouse, flinging her shoulder against it, kicking at it. It splintered, but didn’t give.
Looking around, she saw a brick lying near the wall. Perhaps it was one of the bricks he’d used to build this underground prison. Picking up the brick, she slammed it against the door handle until the latch gave way and the door cracked open.
Breathing hard, she burst in. Immediately, she saw it. There it was. What she needed. A staircase in the kitchen, leading down.
There was a light switch, too. May flicked it on and saw light flood the subterranean area.
She rushed down the stairs.
"Who's there?" she called, her voice squeaky with tension.
There were three doors in front of her. She saw light streaming through peepholes in the doors.
"I'm here! Help me!" the cry came faintly.
It was coming from the left-hand door, which was firmly latched from the outside.
May drew the latch back and pushed the door open.
She gasped, as she came face to face with a thin, haunted-looking woman who was probably about twenty. Her clothing was ragged. Her blonde hair was straggly and greasy-looking. Her face was sheet-white, and her eyes were wide.
It wasn't Lauren. That knowledge shocked through May. This captive woman was not her sister. She’d been convinced she would find her here. But this woman was desperate and in need, and May couldn’t dwell on her own past when there was still another hostage to be accounted for.
“Help me, please! Help me! I’ve been locked away forever,” the woman said, beginning to cry.
"What's your name?" May asked her.
"Mary-Ann," the woman replied.
"Mary-Ann, was there another girl here with you? We need to find two hostages. You, and another woman called Cassandra.”
"I was here first. Others have come and gone. There was one other girl, who came here recently, but he’s taken her! He’s already left, and I know she won’t come back!”
May caught her breath.
Josh had already departed with Cassandra. He could be anywhere by now. She could be dead.
In the midst of her panic, May knew that calmness, and asking the right questions, might possibly save the day.
"When did he leave?" she asked.
"Just a few minutes ago. Maybe five minutes," she said.
Just before May had arrived! She had not seen another car going the other way. So that meant he’d gone south. At least she knew which direction to turn.
The clock was ticking, and May knew every second counted now.
"I'll keep you safe," she promised this traumatized woman. "But we need to find Cassandra urgently. Do you have any idea where would he have taken her? Did he say anything at all?"
She tried not to show Mary-Ann how worried she was as the traumatized woman thought back over the recent minutes. Pressure would not help this young woman now. Calmness would allow her to think.
"He was muttering to himself," Mary-Ann said. "He did say something."
"Just keep calm and try to remember," May soothed her, even though she was about as far from calm as could be. She felt as if she was exploding inside.
Even now, Josh could be using his terrible, serrated blade on Cassandra, taking her life, destroying the last of her parents' children, and all their hopes.
"He said he was in a hurry. That he couldn't go far," Mary-Ann said. "That he was going to drive the shortest route to the lake, and just dump her there."
"Have you seen his car?" May asked, guessing that Mary-Ann probably had not.
"No. I haven't seen it." Then her eyes lit up. "I remember something he said a few days ago, to one of the girls when he brought her here. Well, he wasn't saying it to her. I don't think she was awake at the time. He was saying it to himself - that he hoped she enjoyed her ride, and that it would have been smooth in the Mercedes."
"A Mercedes, and the shortest route to the lake," May echoed. It was not a lot, but it would have to be enough.
She couldn’t possibly leave this traumatized woman here. What if things went wrong and the killer came back?”
“You can come with me in the back of my truck,” May said. “But I need you to lock yourself in. Help and backup will be here soon, and the car will be a place of safety for you until then.”
Taking the girl’s arm, May rushed back to her car.
Where was the shortest route to the lake? She helped Mary-Ann into the back, and then dived into the front, slammed the pickup into gear, gunned the engine, and roared away.
"I'll get there in time," she muttered to herself. "I have to get there in time. I have to!"
But each second that ticked by seemed to be an interminable minute, and each minute was like an hour as she turned south and sped down the road.
The shortest route had to be straight ahead, at the end of this road. There was a sign for Eagle Lake.