Joss yelled, “Clayton is keeping us hostage down here! Do you want to go to jail with him?”
I looked up at the cook. Gina’s face was a picture of conflict. There was a long moment of frozen silence. We had a four-way standoff.
Clayton’s face relaxed, the longer it took Gina to respond. He thought he had her on his side. “Gina? Who’s up there?” he said, more calmly. I realized I was in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He couldn’t risk moving closer to the stairs to see me better.
“A woman from the maid service,” Gina said. She was clearly torn. I shook my head at her emphatically. He has a gun, I mouthed silently.
“What’s she doing?” Clayton was trying to keep his eyes on Joss, but he kept glancing toward the stairs.
Gina said, accurately, “Nothing.” She went back up a step. She was clearly on the verging of cutting and running, and that would be absolutely disastrous.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” Clayton called to Gina. “You listen to them! You want to work here, right?”
Gina said in a normal voice, “I’m not going to jail for you.” And she backed away from me as if I were the Devil, and then turned and ran into the kitchen, leaving the door open.
“Who’s there?” Clayton yelled.
I went down one step to see Joss resolutely not looking up at me, Clayton backing away from her, the gun held in a shaking hand, and I heard a barrage of pounding and thudding from the makeshift prison.
A few minutes would see us all safe. Just a few minutes. I tried to figure how many had passed since Robin had hung up to call the police, and I could not even hazard a guess. And maybe it would take them ten minutes to get someone over here? Or maybe they would wait for a SWAT team to assemble? Oh, God, I hoped not. I should probably follow Gina out of the house, but Joss was by herself, facing down a murderer. I couldn’t abandon her. I was torn between securing safety for my baby and acting a witness to whatever was going to happen.
Wisdom suggested I beat a retreat.
“Who’s on the stairs?” Clayton screamed. “Answer me, bitch!” He lunged toward Joss and hit her across the face with the gun.
She yelped with pain, and blood ran from a gash on her forehead. I couldn’t think what to do. “Clayton, put down the gun,” I called. “Put it down and it won’t be so bad on you.” I had no idea what I was saying or if it was true.
“Who are you?” He sounded less hysterical but more determined; that was probably a bad thing. I didn’t want him calm. I wanted him thoroughly rattled and scared. Or did I? Would he be more likely to shoot someone if he thought all was lost? Or would he surrender? I was not adequate to meet this situation.
“I’m Aurora Teagarden, Phillip’s sister,” I said. “And the police are on their way, Clayton. This is over. Your parents aren’t here,” I lied. “It’s just you.”
“I heard the door beep,” Clayton said, though uncertainly.
Maybe the Harrisons had gone upstairs, because they hadn’t appeared yet. Maybe they wouldn’t.
But then there were footsteps on the hall floor. “Gina?” a woman called. “Where’s the woman from the maid service? Did she come out this way?”
Sometimes I just couldn’t catch a break. Launching myself up the stairs, I felt the doorknob urgently. There was a little press-to-lock button. That would buy me a little time.
“Clayton?” This time it was a man. “What’s happening? Where is Gina?”
I held on to the doorknob with both hands. Someone outside tried to turn it.
“What’s wrong with the door?” Karina asked, from just a few inches away.
Thanks, universe.
“I think it’s locked,” Dan said.
“There’s one of those skinny keys around here somewhere,” Karina told her husband. Though I didn’t hear one inserted, I gripped the knob so ferociously that I would fall down the stairs if the knob came loose. Again, someone tried to open the door, with no key but more muscle. Probably Dan Harrison. But I was determined to keep my grip: nothing good could come from adding two more people to the equation.
Especially two adults who were letting their son hold hostages in their basement.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life. Clayton was at my back and his parents were at my front. It couldn’t get worse than this.
Then I heard footsteps on the stairs below me and I knew Clayton was coming up behind me.
I looked over my shoulder and saw him almost at the landing, half-keeping the gun trained on Joss, half-glaring in my direction. If he shot me in the back, all his immediate problems would be solved. And the gun was beginning to swing around when Joss did an incredible thing.
She tackled him.
The gun flew out of Clayton’s hand to land on the floor. He wriggled free from her and dove for it, but she was there ahead of him.
Clayton froze. He was stomach-down on the basement floor, and Joss was sitting up, still bleeding profusely from her forehead, the gun pointing steadily at her captor.
“You won’t shoot me,” Clayton said.
“I would be so happy to shoot you,” Joss said. “Don’t tempt me.”
I don’t know about Clayton, but I believed her.
Now the older Harrisons were doing their own pounding and yelling, the door reverberating with their blows. If they found a key, I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to hold on to the knob. I wondered if I would hear sirens any time soon. Like, now?
But the police did not arrive with sirens. They came in quietly and heavily armed. I heard Karina scream when she saw them. That came through the door loud and clear. And the rescuers began yelling very specific orders at Karina and Dan. “Step away from that door!” was popular, as well as “Hands up!”
Dan Harrison began to bluster immediately: “Why are you in my house? Do you have a warrant? I’m calling my lawyer!”
“You do that,” said one recognizable voice. I felt glad all over. Cathy Trumble. Another woman said, “I’m going to read you your rights.” Bernadette Crowley. God bless her.
“Get them away from the door,” she added. “We’ve got hostages down there.”
Finally, I was able to let go of the doorknob. I felt like sagging to my knees. I turned the knob to unlock the door, but I didn’t open it, not knowing the situation on the other side.
“I’m in here!” I called. “It’s Aurora and I’m in here! Clayton has been holding the kids hostage, and Joss just got the drop on him. So there’s a gun down here,” I added. An important point.
“Okay, steady, Aurora. Steady. Open the door and stand back against the wall.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to do this since the stairway was narrow, but I turned the knob and pulled the door open, flattening myself against the wall. Just for insurance, I put my hands up. Cathy Trumble’s was the first face I saw. She had a gun pointed at me.
“I’m stepping back,” she said to me, her voice level and steady. “When I do, you come out of there.”
I could only nod. Several times.
She did step back, revealing a hallway which had become a narrow corridor lined with men and women and guns.
Clayton was clearly out-armed. “Who’s down there?” Crowley demanded.
“Joss is the only hostage loose,” I said. “She’s taken Clayton’s gun from him, and she’s ready to shoot if he tries to get it back.”
Crowley propelled me forward down that corridor, hustling me toward the back door, and, barely registering the fact that the paved apron was now solid with law enforcement vehicles, I hurried through the kitchen and started down the steps. And then I kept on going because my husband was there waiting, his face tense with fear. His arms opened and I flew in, wrapping my arms around him like a monkey. Robin didn’t say anything, just hugged me very tightly. That was enough. After a moment of feeling safe, I peered around Robin to see Gina, talking excitedly to Levon Suit, clearly beside herself.
After a minute, I noticed that Bryan Pascoe
was standing back behind Robin. He looked very lawyer-like in a full suit and a starched shirt and subdued tie. “Bryan, I’m so glad you’re here,” I said. “I don’t think Phillip is going to need you, but it might be really, really handy.”
Bryan said, “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Bryan was not a smiley kind of guy, but he was delighted, no two ways about it.
Then there was quite a bit of yelling from the house, but I couldn’t understand it. Joss shot out of the kitchen door, bleeding but triumphant. Two officers hustled her to the waiting ambulance. In short order she was loaded in on a gurney and sent off to the hospital with sirens wailing.
Next out was Liza Scott. I don’t know who had called Aubrey and Emily, but they appeared walking down the driveway just at that moment. They ran across the apron to hold their daughter. Emily was weeping and laughing at the same time. Aubrey picked up Liza and began to carry her up the driveway. He brushed aside an EMT. “We’re taking her to the hospital ourselves,” he said firmly.
I unwrapped myself from Robin to wait for my own hostage. And he was out next. Like Joss, Phillip was filthy and thin, but his back was straight and his face was hard. He came right into my hug willingly, though. He said, “I was never so glad to hear anyone’s voice in my life, Roe. Oh, thanks, thanks, thanks.” His voice broke into something suspiciously like a sob.
“Hey,” I said, and then I couldn’t say anything else, because it was my turn to cry all over him. And he didn’t demur. He smelled awful. But I was so glad he was alive and intact, I’d have hugged him if he’d been skunked.
I missed a lot of the ebb and flow and the commands, but an EMT crew ran past me. After a few long minutes, Josh was carried out on a stretcher. I had a moment of wondering if we’d really have a happy ending when I saw Josh. He looked terrible, and he was clearly very ill. “Call the Finstermeyers,” I suggested to Robin. “I’m sure they’ve already heard, but they could go to straight to the hospital, skip this confusion.” Robin extricated his cell phone. After a moment he said, “Beth? They’re taking Joss and Josh directly to the hospital. They’re safe.”
I could hear her scream over the phone. Phillip grinned at me. It was so good to see him smile. I grinned back.
“Yes,” Robin said. “We just got them out of the Harrison house. Clayton was keeping them hostage. We’ll tell you later.”
He dropped the phone back in his pocket, and did some beaming of his own. He turned to the nearest uniform, who was (I saw with some surprise) the chief of police, Cliff Paley. He was talking to his shoulder, which was explained when he turned toward me and I saw some kind of communication rig attached to it.
“Chief,” I said, “can we go home? You all know where he will be.”
“Let me check,” he said, and talked to his shoulder some more. He said, “Roe, you can take Phillip home if you don’t let him call or talk to anyone else until we get his statement. Pascoe?”
Phillip nodded emphatically. “I just want a shower,” he said. “And food. I don’t need an ambulance.”
“My client will stick to those restrictions,” Bryan said. “Though we hope you’ll interview him sooner rather than later, so he can tell his friends he made it.”
Chief Paley nodded. “Done.”
“But wait a moment,” Robin said. Down the kitchen steps came the Harrisons, Dan, Karina, and Clayton. And they were all in handcuffs. I’m sure it was wrong of me, but I was absolutely delighted. Phillip had a broad smile on his grimy face. It was all I could do to keep from spitting at them as they walked by. Karina turned to look at me, but her face was blank with shock. Then they were in separate police cars and going to jail.
“Okay, we’re going home,” I told Chief Paley, smiling. “No talking or calling.” And just like that, we started to Robin’s car, which he’d parked at the house across the street while he waited for my instructions. I would not be able to move mine for hours, it was clear. As we hiked up the driveway to the street, we passed the Scotts. Phillip stopped, so we did, too.
Liza wriggled gently from her mother’s grasp and hugged Phillip without reserve. “Mom, Dad,” she said. “Phillip saved my life.”
Phillip hugged her back, but he looked embarrassed. “Oh, naw,” he said. “Liza was brave all the way through.”
“I think Clayton would have killed me right away if it hadn’t been for Phillip,” Liza said.
“Liza, what are you going to do with those girls the next time you see them?” Phillip asked, looking down at her. He was obviously going through a ritual.
“Punch them in the nose,” she said stoutly. “I promise I will.”
Aubrey looked a bit shocked, but Emily, after a moment’s hesitation, said, “You do that, Liza. Turning the other cheek isn’t working with them.”
There were going to be some interesting discussions in the Scott household in the next few days, but that was not my concern. I let it float away on the outgoing tide of tension. I was replacing that with well-being and relief. It was amazing how the world had changed in less than an hour. I said good-bye to Bryan, who told me to call him if we wanted him present when the police interviewed Phillip. I promised him I would, and I thanked him.
Once in the car, we could not think of anything to say, which was odd. There was too much … or not enough. “Phillip,” I said. “We want to know all about it, but you don’t need to tell us now. We just want you to feel clean again, and we want to feed you.”
“I’ll eat anything,” he said, as if he were swearing on a stack of Bibles. “Even asparagus. Even salmon croquettes.” He had not liked my salmon croquettes to an extreme degree.
“I have to tell you that your mom and your dad are both in town,” I said. The bliss of anticipation disappeared from Phillip’s face. But I had to warn him, or perhaps prepare him would be more accurate.
“They can wait,” he said, pushing his problems with them away. “For now, shower, shampoo, and soap. And food. Any food.”
Though Phillip had no coat on, he did not seem to be feeling the cold at first. But halfway home, he began shivering. We turned the heat on high, and I tossed him a lap robe Robin kept in the car in winter, but he couldn’t stop. “I’m not cold,” he said. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
“It’s a reaction,” Robin said. “In a while you’ll be fine.”
“What day is it?” Phillip asked suddenly.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” I said, surprised to realize it, myself.
“I thought so,” he said. “I tried to keep track of the days. I was scared I might have miscounted. I was scared we’d be in there for Christmas. Or he’d kill us all before then.”
I couldn’t imagine how scary it must have been.
But in two more minutes we were home and hustling Phillip into the house. He went to his room briefly to grab clean clothes. Then he vanished into the hall bathroom. The water started thundering down in the shower before he could have taken off his nasty clothes, and I smiled to myself. I had been afraid I’d never hear Phillip wasting hot water again.
I began pulling food out of the refrigerator. Now the food friends had brought us would be put to good use.
Chapter Fifteen
An hour later, Philip was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He had consumed lasagna, creamed spinach, cheesy carrots, and a bowl of bread pudding, all with a truly inspiring single-minded intensity. His hair was clean, he’d scrubbed and shaved, and he was wearing clean clothes. He’d asked me to throw away the clothes he’d worn all during his captivity. I’d put them right in a trash bag and tossed them out in the garbage can.
Phillip hadn’t wanted to talk.
But now he sat back on his stool, sighed, and looked about ten years old … for just a second. “That was the best food I ever ate,” he said simply. “We didn’t get fed much. I’m so full I think my stomach will pop.”
Robin and I both perked up, since we were finally going to hear what had happened.
The doorbe
ll rang at that moment, of course. Not at all to my surprise, the callers were the FBI agents. Bernadette Crowley was impassive, but Les Van Winkle gave me quite a steely look.
I did not quiver in my shoes.
My brother was home. If I hadn’t done what I did, he’d still be in the basement.
“We’re here to talk to Phillip,” Crowley said. “Phillip, it’s good to meet you face-to-face after looking for you. I’m Special Agent Bernadette Crowley, and this is Special Agent Les Van Winkle.”
“The FBI? Wow,” Phillip said, impressed. He slid off the stool and shook their hands, I waved everyone to the two big couches and the armchairs. Robin and I flanked Phillip, while the agents took the other couch.
“First off, do I need to get our lawyer here for this?” I asked.
Van Winkle looked surprised. “No, this is just a preliminary interview to get Phillip’s story down.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to repeat it a few times to law enforcement bodies,” Crowley said, after she and Van Winkle had turned down my offer of coffee or a soda. “But we need to hear it.”
“Okay,” Phillip said. “What do you want to know?” He had tensed up again.
“Let me ask a question or two first.” Crowley smiled. “Why did Clayton Harrison keep you prisoner for so long?”
That was an odd question, I thought, but I suddenly found myself wondering the same thing. Why, indeed?
“He was waiting for his passport,” Phillip said, with no hesitation. “He’d lost his a month ago. He’d already applied for a replacement since he was going on a trip to Peru in June. Since he was leaving the country as soon as he got it, he was waiting for it to come.”
The agents glanced at each other. “He told you this?” Van Winkle asked.
“Yeah, he did. He said as soon as his passport came he’d be gone out of the U.S., and his parents would ‘discover’ us in the basement and let us go.”
“Did the older Harrisons come down there at any time? Did you see them?”