The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag - #2 Swept under the Rug Page 21

  “You’re doing fine.” I coaxed, praying my latest harebrained scheme wouldn’t be the last. Sierra worked the knot, each tug had me wincing. After an eternity she loosened the knot and I managed to work one wrist free of the rope.

  “Maggie, please go. Save yourself.”

  Ignoring her plea, I turned my attention to the tank. Carefully, I stepped onto the concrete platform. Balanced on the balls of my feet, my forehead only reached halfway up the tank. Numerous warning stickers decorated the thing. Up above my head was a sticker and an upwards facing arrow labeled Pressure Relief Valve. Heat emanated from the cylinder and I could only imagine what sort of temperature was going on inside the tank. Standing on my tiptoes, I could see the release valve hand been melted down to an unrecognizable lump of metal.

  Shit, it had been a shot in the dark anyway. Of course Garner would have anticipated that I’d get free. In all likelihood, he got off on the image of my futile efforts. I stepped down, carefully avoiding Sierra. If I couldn’t release the pressure by traditional means....

  My gaze landed on a fire ax, enshrined in glass next to a doorway. My mind couldn’t even imagine the possible outcomes, but I was operating under the idea that doing something was indeed better than nothing. The little metal hammer hung from a string next to the case and I raised it, looking away as the glass shattered. The ax was much heavier than I’d anticipated, but I had adrenalin driven panic on my side.

  “Sierra, I’m going to get you free. As soon as I do, I want you to run for that door as fast as you can, all right?”

  Even in the gloom, I saw the whites of her eyes as she focused on the ax. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be right behind you. Move your wrists as far apart as you can.”

  She did and shut her eyes. Aim and concentration. It’s just like darts. I focused on the metal links on her handcuffs, holding the ax in a firm grip and swung. Unlike in the movies, the ax didn’t cut clean through the chain, but it did manage to break a few links and not lop either hand off. Setting the ax down, I worked it, pulling her away from the pipe until the weakened metal gave way.

  “Go!” I commanded. Sierra stumbled once, but jackrabbit-ed to the door. I gauged the distance between the tank and the door as maybe fifty feet. Time to see if my running skills were up to par. I stood ten feet back, ax poised over my head, waiting until she was safe. The door banged against the wall, my cue. You could have been a great marksman. Neil’s praise funneled my concentration to the point I intended to hit. Just a really big dart.

  “Here goes everything.” I flung the ax at the tank.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Not waiting to see if the ax hit its mark, I bolted toward the door. Great clouds of steam erupted with an angry whistle, scalding my bare hands and face, but I pushed on.

  It was the longest sprint of my life, but I made it through the door, slamming it closed in my wake. Giant blisters bubbled up on my hands and the bright florescent lights blinded me after the gloom of the basement. Someone had sounded a fire alarm, and I took the stairs two at a time. Breathing through my broken nose was out of the question, as I tasted blood with every swallow. Gasping for breath, I reached the landing for the lobby and flung the door open, revealing the security desk.

  “Get everyone out of the building, now!” I shouted at the stunned guard and, having preformed enough heroics for one day, I bolted for the glass doors.

  “Hey, wait a minute, what the hell’s going on? Did you set the fire alarm off? That’s illegal, you know.” The guard moved like a striking snake and grabbed my jacket. I slipped my arms out of it and kept going, not willing to play twenty questions right now.

  “Maggie!” Neil, along with Detective Capri and the federal special agents were on the sidewalk, heading into the building. “Good God almighty, what happened to you?”

  I shoved at him, attempting to move us both to a safer distance. “Garner,” I wheezed. “Alan Garner, did it all, he’s going to blow up the building.”

  My words were like a brand to a herd of oxen. Capri got on the radio, screaming out orders and the feds circled me like vultures, their questions pecking at what was left of my damaged carcass.

  “Where is it? What kind of explosive?”

  “Basement, hot water tank. I threw an ax at it, but it might still go off.”

  “Get her to the car.” Salazar ordered Feist. “Take her to the hospital, and have those burns treated.”

  “I’m going too.” Neil looked more panicked than I’d ever seen him, almost like he was holding all of his vibrating energy together. He scooped me up, careful to avoid touching my skin.

  “No hospital,” I begged but was soundly ignored. Feist ushered us into the back of an unmarked black car and shut the door. I closed my eyes, my muscles still twitching.

  “Sylvia?” I asked Neil.

  “She’s fine. She took your car back home.”

  I took a deep breath, the first it seemed I’d taken in eons and doubled over from the pain. “Christ, what’s happening?”

  “Get us the fuck out of here!” Neil’s hands hovered over me, his energy touching where skin could not. “You’ve been badly burned, Uncle Scrooge. We’re getting you to the hospital.

  “He wanted to kill everyone, everyone in the building, just because they worked for Valentino. He killed Candie, cut her up.” Something drove me to get it all out, in case I didn’t make it.

  “We know. We found his DNA in Sloan’s house. Valentino had all of his staffs’ on file. Being the paranoid sort, he did it without their knowledge.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I really didn’t care, but anything was better than focusing on the gut-churning pain.

  Feist smiled. “Yes, it is.”

  “‘You’re gonna get burned,’” I murmured, sick at the irony. “Garner got his wish, Valentino’s going down.” That damn note had been an omen, and my sorry self insisted on getting involved. What had I been thinking? The worry in Neil’s voice, the frantic edge on his very presence iced my pain with grief

  “I couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t leave the kids, leave you.” My vision clouded, and tunneled. “So sorry,” I whispered and lost consciousness.

  * * * *

  When I came to, I groaned, not from pain, but from the smells of the hospital. Gauze pads swathed my hands and head in a light, but continuous mummification. Someone was talking in the low, sepulchral tones used in rooms like this.

  “Appears to be second degree burns. We’ve started her on a course of intravenous antibiotics to prevent any infection, as well as low dose morphine for pain management.”

  My gaze cut to the I.V. stand that dripped clear fluid down into a tube connected to the needle in my arm. “Well this sucks,” I croaked.

  Neil was at my side in an instant. “Hey there, hot stuff. How’s it going?”

  “It’s going.”

  “Let’s check those bandages,” The woman I assumed to be the doctor smiled reassuringly as she unwrapped one arm. “Looking good.”

  I glanced at the puffy red skin covered with angry blisters and winced. “On what planet?”

  The doctor brought out a fresh roll of gauze and a stack of sterile pads. “The one where you don’t need skin grafts. You’re a very lucky woman. The burns don’t extend past the dermis. You’ll be back up to speed in about a month, with only minor scaring.”

  My mind’s eye envisioned something akin to the phantom of the opera. “Will I have to wear a mask and go lurching around underground sewers?”

  “Not unless you really want to.” She secured the wrap and smiled. “I’ll be back in a few hours.

  Neil sighed and flopped into the chair beside my bed.

  “I’m so sorry…” I began but he held up a hand.

  “I think we should move.”

  “What?” I tried to sit up, a huge mistake as my battered body protested vehemently. “Why?”

  He patted the air, urging me to lie still. “No good h
as come from us being in Hudson. You hate the winter, and I hate seeing you like this.”

  Panic tightened my vocal cords. “Think this through, love. Winter’s almost over. We can’t sell the house in this economy and the boys, and Marty’s mess.

  And I promised Sylvia we’d make a go at the joint Shui Cleaning thing. And Leo’s going to be off his game for awhile, after Richard. He’ll need us close by. It just isn’t the right time. It was one madman, Neil; one guy caused all this misery. And the police are gonna get him, right?”

  “We already have him in custody.” Detective Capri entered, her hard cop eyes assessing my condition. “He’s in interrogation with the feds right now, spilling every detail, going over every nuance of his,” she made air quotes with her fingers “’grand master plan.’ It seems Candie was the linchpin, she agreed to stage the kidnapping in order to punish Valentino. She told him how to access the house security system, where to plant bugs after the FBI had swept for them, so he was always one step ahead.

  “From what I could discern, he made a pass at Candie, but she announced she was through with men and he lost whatever cool reason he’d ever possessed, hacked her into pieces, and set up Sloan as a convenient scapegoat. So don’t worry about Garner. He’ll be locked away for the rest of his life, I guarantee it. Valentino’s closing down shop, too, since his shoddy ethics have been put under a microscope. He’ll probably start over in some other state, but without the financial backing of Candie’s family.”

  She turned to Neil. “Don’t let him chase you away, don’t let him win.”

  Neil was on his feet before I could blink. “Maybe if you did your job, she wouldn’t be in this mess.” He stabbed a finger at the bed. “Maybe if you actually protected the people you’re sworn to serve, I might feel comfortable staying put.”

  Unfair. I opened my mouth to speak but coughed violently instead, returning my husband’s focus to me. He poured some water into a plastic cup and inserted a straw into my mouth. “Calm yourself, Uncle Scrooge. You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”

  The water was cool going down, soothing my parched throat. “Not her fault.” I croaked. The statement brought forth a new coughing jag.

  “I’ll leave. I just wanted to tell you that the City Council voted to honor you at the spring festival next month. We’re all grateful for your...,” I could practically see her swallowing her pride, “sacrifices.”

  Neil’s gaze bore into the back of her head as she left. “Cold comfort. A citizen’s award, just ducky.”

  “I’ve never received an award before.” I whispered. “To you it’s no big deal, but to me….

  Neil sighed and I smiled, glad to know I’d won this round. We’d stay, at least until spring. Warmth, hope a new start. Which reminded me….

  “After I’m back on my feet, let’s get a dog for Kenny. And we promised to set Josh up in his own room.”

  He shook his head. “We don’t have the space right now, what with Marty and Penny—”

  “Yeah, I’ve got an idea about them too….”

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” Neil gazed heavenward and flopped back into the chair.

  * * *

  An Excerpt from: The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag: Book 1: Skeletons in the Closet

  Copyright © 2008 Jennifer Hart

  All rights reserved, Wild Child Publishing.

  I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of ratty jeans, the comfortable kind with bleach stains marring the denim, and stuffed my hair under one of Neil's SEAL caps. As per Sylvia's suggestion, lunch for the boys was prepared the night before, so I fixed some oatmeal before rousting the kids. Neil was in the shower, so I set about gathering cleaning supplies. Not knowing what the Klines' had in stock, I grabbed a few essentials from my own war pantry. I hadn't cashed the five-hundred dollar check yet, mostly because I still didn't want to go through with this.

  Neil sauntered into the kitchen, took one look at me, and grinned. "You really don't want to do this, do you."

  It wasn't a question.

  Sipping my third cup of coffee, I noticed the tremors in my hands and quickly put it down. "What makes you say that?"

  Neil tucked a stray curl behind my ear. "It's either the dark circles under your eyes, or the crazed look in them."

  "It'll be fine." I waved him off. "Do I look all right?"

  "Couldn't find a maid's uniform?"

  That did it.

  "You know as well as I do that I'm not a maid! I'm like some kind of peasant woman ordered to clean the great lord's feudal castle. A gnarled old hag, brought out to do the washing and to scrub the blood from the floors! I'm the Laundry Hag!" My arms flailed as I ranted at my poor, put-upon husband, who couldn't seem to wipe the dopey grin off his face.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, searching for the inner calm that had saved me from insanity while Neil was saving the world.

  "The Laundry Hag. I like it. It's definitely memorable."

  I opened one eye. "What?"

  "That should be the name of your business. The Laundry Hag Cleaning Services."

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