He bit back the desire to call her sick. “Where is Raven?” he asked in a calm voice instead.
Heather glanced down at her watch and smiled. “We still have two minutes on our break.” She shifted her eyes back to him. “Now, where were we? Oh right, Kimmy, Kim, Kimber.” She chuckled. “That bitch didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. We’re the only one in town who can spread lies.” She drew out the S sound. “And she had no right gossiping about us in the grocery store to everyone.”
“So, you killed her?” he asked.
“Oh, it was easy. The girl was high as a kite that night, thanks to a few pills we’d sold her earlier in the week. Besides, she was a small little thing. Not very heavy.” She shrugged. “Our only regret was that we couldn’t stage her death in this grand ol’ place.”
“Where is Raven?” He took a step towards Heather.
She sighed, one of those I’m-so-annoyed-and-bored kind of sounds as she motioned with the gun.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” He shook his head.
“Did you know that this room is not only airtight but soundproof?” She smiled and lifted the gun again, this time pointing it at his head.
He felt the air leave his lungs as his heart raced.
It was true, Cade thought. Moments before death, your life really did flash before your eyes.
Raven felt groggy and cold. So cold. Her teeth chattered and her body shook uncontrollably.
She moved to sit up and bumped her head, which sent ice particles raining down on her head.
“What…” She coughed when frigid air filled her lungs. Reaching out, she scraped the ice over her head, her nails, sending more ice particles falling over her already frozen body. Her knuckles split as she punched at the icy roof, and the knees on her slacks split open when she used them to kick against her prison.
Her throat burned as she screamed to be released.
Once the sheer panic of being locked in an icy coffin dissipated slightly, her brain kicked into gear.
It was obvious she was in an old freezer. The kind she used to get ice cream out of in the kitchens at the resort when she was younger. They used to have those small orange sherbet cups that she loved. The kind that had their own wooden spoons.
Then she realized she was most likely still at the resort and wondered vaguely if this was the very same freezer.
If it were… she held her breath as she searched for the release handle her mother had forced her father to install in the freezer for fear that their eight-year-old daughter would accidently get locked inside, just like the little boy they’d seen on a special news report who had suffocated inside his parents’ freezer in their garage.
There was several years of ice buildup to claw through, and it seemed to take hours, but when she felt the cold metal of the bright red handle her father had installed all those years ago, warmth seeped into her body.
Older model freezer lids wouldn’t lock, but this kind had a small button you could push on the outside to lock it. The handle overrode the lock and latch, allowing the lid to pop open freely.
Even though her parents had died more than ten years ago, they were still here. Protecting her. Saving her life.
The moment the lid popped open, she took a deep gulp of warm air, relishing the heat that seeped into her body. Still, her entire body shook as she used her frozen limbs to climb out of the box.
As she scanned her surroundings, she realized instantly where she was. The one room she hadn’t had a chance to really survey yet. It was a small storage area that was tucked behind the wine and liquor supply room.
The moment she could feel her limbs again, she crawled towards the doorway. Seeing a light under it, she leaned against it and took several deep breaths as she tried to remember how she’d gotten there.
When the answer rushed in and hit her over the head, she gasped. Heather.
At the moment she thought the name, she heard the woman speaking. Fear leapt into her and she frantically looked around for someplace to hide or for a weapon.
Then she remembered the gun Heather had used to get her to follow her down into the storage area.
At first, she’d been convinced to head down there when Heather had called her to the bar area, claiming that someone had broken in and stolen some wine and had broken a bunch of other bottles.
When they’d arrived downstairs, Heather had pulled out the gun.
She couldn’t remember getting into the freezer, but now that her body was warming up, she could feel a dull ache in the back of her head. Heather had most likely hit her and then put her into the freezer herself.
Leaning her head against the door, she listened again. It was definitely Heather talking.
When she heard Cade’s voice, she almost cried out. But then his words sunk in.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me?” he asked.
Images of Heather holding Cade at gunpoint flashed in her eyes. She needed to do something. And quick.
Then she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. It was as if the device had just connected with the internet now that it was out of the metal box.
Pulling it out with shaky fingers, she sent a text to Sean with frozen fingers, quickly telling him where they were.
Still, she doubted the man would get there in time. From the sound of things in the next room, she had seconds. Not minutes.
She would not let this woman take the man she loved from her. Not again.
Seeing her grandmother’s heavy sterling silver tea set sitting on a shelf over the freezer, the tray her mother used to make her shine every holiday season, she got a very stupid idea.
She opened the door, and her eyes raced around the room and connected with Heather. With all her remaining energy, she threw the silver tea kettle at Heather’s head and jumped in front of Cade’s body and the end of the gun.
The shot rang out, almost deafening in such a small space. She felt the sting of it, the heat of it. Then Cade’s arms were around her, holding her, guiding her as the room filled with shouting voices instead of more shots.
“Shit,” she gasped. “That stings.” Then everything went dark.
When she opened her eyes next, Cade was there, looking down at her.
“You little fool,” he said, but since there was a smile on his face, she figured her stupid plan had worked.
“My grandmother’s silver platter?” she asked. “Did it survive?”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid it gave it’s life for yours.” He motioned to the floor. Sure enough, there was a very large dent in the tarnished old thing. “You’ve been watching too much Dirty Harry.”
“Wrong movie,” she said, sitting up slightly and wincing when her ribs ached.
Since her blouse was untucked, she assumed that Cade had looked at where she’d been shot. Well, where the bullet had dented in the heavy tray at least.
Since she didn’t see any blood, she figured she’d walk away with some bruising, maybe a broken rib, since she was having a difficult time breathing. Her body was still too cold to tell much, but she figured she’d feel everything later. For now, she was just going to enjoy being alive.
“No.” Cade smiled and helped her sit up. “I’m pretty sure that’s Dirty Harry.”
She held in a laugh and hugged her sides. “The Man with No Name,” she corrected. “A Fist Full of Dollars.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure I can move in with you now,” she said through heavy panting breaths.