The Woman in the Trunk - Jessica Gadziala Page 0,73
that, I made my way back outside, realizing as I got to it that getting back in a basement was a lot harder than getting out.
In the end, I had to lie flat on the ground, slithering backward like the snake I guess I was that night, lowering myself down, legs dangling for a heart-dropping moment before I finally felt the step ladder, then stepped down.
I took the extra moment to put everything how I found it, sneaking into the other side, locking myself back up, and spending the next hour or so trying to get my buckles back into shape.
They looked all wrong in the end, but I hoped that these men wouldn't be the sort to look too closely.
Then I sat and waited.
Exhaustion disappeared, replaced with something that made me all sorts of wicked.
Excitement.
Anticipation.
Freaking glee.
I couldn't even consider sleep, my whole body was buzzing, adrenaline bouncing off my nerve endings as I leaned back against the wall, waiting to hear the house wake up.
On the other side of the door, at some point, Brio turned off his phone, maybe catching a little forbidden sleep like Chris had done the other nights.
A smile pulled at my lips as I heard the coffee pot beep as it finished brewing. And again when I heard Arturo's feet on the stairs, completely unaware of what was going to happen.
I should have felt guilt.
I guess normal people would have.
But I couldn't help but wonder how many men and women had started their days just like Arturo was starting his, completely oblivious that everything was about to change, losing their lives—or the lives of loved ones—because Arturo willed it.
He'd caused countless deaths.
He'd brought unfathomable amounts of terror into the hearts of others.
I felt no guilt.
Not even as I heard him take his cup upstairs, likely drinking a big gulp before getting into his shower.
In his locked bathroom.
Out of sight of anyone who might be hanging around with an epinephrine pen.
The excitement dimmed, the glee turned into something like disappointment, like defeat, when minutes passed, when nothing seemed to happen.
Tears sprang to my eyes, wondering what the hell my choice was now.
Trying to make a run for it?
What were my chances?
How could I start over with no money, no IDs?
Maybe I could go to the police.
Tell them my story.
Point fingers.
See if they would make me disappear.
My hands reached up, wiping the tears off my cheeks.
I don't know how long I sat there like that, biting my lip to keep the sobs in, face getting raw from the saltwater.
I was barely aware of the footsteps above, casual at first, then running, barely even registered the shouting.
But then there were frantic feet on the stairs, up, then down again.
The door flew open, bouncing against the wall.
And there was Brio.
His eyes were a little wild, but everything else about him calm, focused, as he made his way over toward me, producing a key, reaching for my ankle.
"You got to go, doll."
"Go? Go where? Where are you taking me?"
"I'm not takin' you anywhere. No one is. You're gonna get up, go up those stairs, and get fucking lost, you hear me? You run. And you don't look back. And you don't say shit about ever being here, you got that?"
"I, ah, yeah," I agreed, nodding as he fished for a handcuff key, freeing my wrists.
"Let's do it," he said, pulling me onto my feet, taking off toward the stairs, jogging up them.
Was I wrong?
Had it worked?
Had it just taken them this long to find him?
Hope swelled under my ribcage as I made my way into the kitchen.
"Out the back. And disappear, doll. Don't fuckin' look back, yeah?"
"I, yeah," I agreed, but he was already going through the front hall, jogging up the stairs.
I knew I had to run.
I knew I had to disappear.
But for some reason, I stood there for one extra second, looking around.
And then I saw it.
A wallet on the table.
I rushed at it, grabbing it, stuffing it down the bodice of my dress, and doing exactly what Brio said.
Getting out of there.
I didn't run right away.
I walked casually around the house, then down to the street.
I was nearly at the corner when I heard the sirens. Another couple seconds before the police cars came barreling down the street.
Turning, I saw them screech to a halt out front of Arturo's brownstone.
I took one second to watch, to see the ambulance pull up.