Allie heard the basement door unlock and the heavy tread of his footsteps on the stairs.
She met him at the bottom of the stairs, blocking the view to the part of the basement where he had held and tortured his victims. She had already found his photographs in the search for a weapon.
His hands were full of the tools she had requested. As he neared the bottom step, she reached out with the crowbar and tripped him, so that he fell down the remaining steps, the tools falling on top of him. She had hoped one might hit him in the head, knocking him out, but no such luck.
Instead, she got a roar from him as he realized what she had done.
He jumped up and attacked her. She swung the crowbar at him with all her might, but he managed to duck where she aimed it at his head, grabbing it in the process.
He backhanded her, and she fell on the floor.
"Bitch!" he called out, noting the absence of his victim on the slab. "Deceiving bitch!"
She scrambled out of his reach as he swung down with the crowbar, which narrowly missed her. She went for her second weapon, which was stashed not too far from her. Always good with projectile objects, she threw a hammer and managed to hit him in the head before he could duck this time.
He roared and kept coming at her. She kept scrambling for tools, ignoring the taste of blood in her mouth as her lip began to swell. Finally, he had her cornered and she was out of tools.
He grabbed her throat and even with her hands scratching at his, he lifted her off the ground and squeezed.
"Bitch!" he muttered again. "I could've given you everything! Don't you know that?"
He glanced at the metal slab and dropped her hard on the floor.
She sat there, stunned, gasping for breath.
"I need to figure out what to do with you," he muttered more to himself than her. "Something special. We want your boyfriend to be finding pieces all over the county!"
She was trapped and she knew it. It had been risky attacking him, but what else could she do? Once he had noticed the boy was gone, he would know It had been her. She had thought of bluffing, of actually injuring herself like the boy had knocked her out and escaped. It hadn't been too realistic though – how would he have gotten out of his straps? No, she had decided to fight, knowing it was possibly a losing battle. She hoped with all she had that the boy had found someone to send help…before it was too late.
He reached out and grabbed her again, lifting her with one hand and backhanding her with the other. "Should know better than to trust a woman," he muttered, throwing her back down again. "I need some time to think."
He left her on the floor and stomped up the stairs, turning off the light and leaving her in darkness. She heard the lock turn on the door. The darkness was stifling. Both her mouth and nose now streamed blood. She gingerly put a hand up to her nose to feel if it was broken. Her lip was definitely swollen, she could feel, and she probably would have a black eye, but at least her nose wasn't broken. She couldn't swear she didn't have a concussion…the last time he had thrown her down, she had hit her head on the concrete floor. Unfortunately in the darkness, she couldn't check for blurred vision.
She closed her eyes against the darkness and tried to calm her rapid heartbeat, going into a mediation trance she had used during her time in the military. She'd have to save her energy and adrenaline to use to fight him off again when he decided her fate. She would definitely not go down easy!
Feeling her way along the floor, she visualized the basement, grateful that her hunt had made her look close at details. She felt her way to where she had seen the tool bench…..making sure to stay out of what she had termed the "death corner."
She found a screwdriver in her travels and held it between her hands. Think of it as a javelin, she thought, and you have one shot. With enough force, it could produce a fatal blow. She bowed her head, drawing her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs.
She heard shuffling upstairs, as if someone were moving furniture around. Now what was he planning? she wondered. She could swear she heard voices. Was he listening to a radio or television? Did the boy find help after all? In his shock, she wasn't sure if her words had gotten through to him. For all she knew, he had gotten lost wandering around the area.
Then there was silence.
Allie thought she'd rather have the noises than the silence, which hung like death in the air.
She heard the lock tumble and the basement door open. She saw a beam of light illuminate the stairs and realized that behind the door, she only saw darkness. Had the electricity been cut?
As the beam came closer, she tried to scuttle out of its sight, not knowing who was behind it.
"Allie!" a voice whispered, and she was unable to stop the whimper that escaped her lips. Was this going to be how it ended? Her hand tightened around the screwdriver. She could always drive it into his leg or his foot. The open door beckoned….she hadn't heard it shut. If she could make her way over to the stairs without being detected….
"Allie? Are you here, sweetheart?"
The familiar voice stopped her. Was this a trick? One of his talents could be to imitate voices. It wouldn't be hard to guess that she would respond to Flint's voice.
"Have you found her?" a voice called from the doorway, its Gaelic accent sounding familiar.
"I think she's down here, but she's not responding," came Flint's worried voice.
Surely he couldn't do two voices at once! In her confusion, the beam of light found her, illuminating her pants leg.
"Alison!" called the voice, shaking with emotion. Steps ran towards her and the flashlight illuminated the rest of her body, including her face. "Oh my god, sweetheart! What did he do to you?"
Flint gathered her in his arms and couldn't tell who was shaking more – himself or Allie.
"Baby, shh, we found you, you're okay," he soothed as she began to quietly cry. "It's over, honey. Eric's team took care of Ranger. He won't ever harm you again."
He needed to get her out of this place. Like her, he recognized the acrid smell of blood. The medics would be here soon and take care of her, he knew. He gently lifted her up in his arms and carried her up the stairs, a flashlight illuminating their way.
"We cut the power so we could take him by surprise," he told her, even though she hadn't asked. "Well, Eric's team did. Mike had your map the two of you had made and everyone's been checking all the areas. We ran across that kid, Jeff, who helped bring us here. That was a smart movie, sweetheart. Then again, you always know what to do, don't you?" he told her, kissing the top of her head.
The flashing lights outside signaled the police and ambulance had arrived. Flint reluctantly handed Allie over to them, but stayed by her side the whole time, his eyes never leaving her.
She didn't seem to be injured other than her face, he thought with relief. He was so scared something else had been done to her.
Mike hurried up to him, but Eric blocked his path.
"The suspect has been neutralized. It was self-defense," he told Mike, who nodded, understanding.
"That's how we'll put it in the books, then," he told Eric, shaking his hand. He had meet most of Allie's cousins over the years, who had a tendency to visit at odd times.
"How's she doing?" he asked Flint, who saw his own concern mirrored in her partner's eyes.
The EMT stood up and looked at the two. "Possible concussion, split lip, black eye….she's been slapped around a little, but nothing broken. She's going to be sore for the next couple days, at least. She's also in shock. We'd like to take her in, just for observation and to check her over further."
Mike knew what that meant, and he looked at his partner sympathetically. He then looked over at Flint and nodded. "Are you going to ride with her?"
Flint nodded.
"I'm okay, just looking a bit ugly right now," Allie managed to croak as she realized her partner and Flint were standing outside the ambulance. Her mouth was so dry! She struggled to sit up against the heavy blankets they had placed on her.
"Nothing else happened," she said pointedly to her partner. "I'll be fine at home." This time she looked at the medic. "Honest. You can't do anything for a concussion anyway."
The medic looked unsure.
Mike sighed. "It's okay. Release her into my custody. Rather," he amended, smiling, "his custody," he said, jerking a thumb towards Flint. "Let someone else be responsible for her, for once."
Allie frowned at Mike. "Since when…" she began, then paused as a wave of nausea overcame her.
"Let's just go to the hospital, let them check you out and release you," Flint told her, concerned.
"Fine," she sighed, and laid back down.
"Damn, man, you're good!" Mike exclaimed. "I can't ever get her to agree to anything I say!"
"I heard that!" came Allie's voice from inside the ambulance.
"Phone my parents so they'll know she's okay, and to keep Katie for one more night. Tell them I'll be with Allie."
Mike nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Good luck!"
Flint climbed into the ambulance and sat on the bench next to the stretcher, holding her hand. He was concerned about how cold it was, and the fact that she was still shaking. He was glad she hadn't argued with him about going to the hospital. Now that they had finally worked everything out, he didn't want to lose her again.