Her fear of heights surged violently, old and ingrained, dragging memories with it—the oak tree behind her parents’ house, the sickening drop, the snap of bone, the months of nightmares that followed.
But fire pressed at her back.
“I need Your strength,” she whispered hoarsely. “I can’t do this alone.”
Scripture rose unbidden, Uncle Eric’s voice steady in her mind, echoing from a hospital room long ago.Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.
She tore the sheets from her bed.
The flames crept closer, heat swelling the air as she knotted fabric with shaking hands, testing each connection again and again because her life would depend on what she was making. The rope would not reach the ground. She knew that. But it might get her close enough.
Another sharp crack echoed through the apartment. The bedroom door bowed inward, the wood groaning, smoke forcing itself through the seams.
She looped the sheets around the heavy oak dresser she’d bought at her first estate sale, cinched the knot, and fed the length through the window. The ground waited far below.
Heart pounding, lungs burning, she climbed onto the sill and forced herself to sit.
The height stole her breath. Darkness pressed up from beneath her feet, vast and uncertain, her old terror surging until her hands trembled violently against the cloth.
Don’t look down.
But she had to.
She lowered herself over the edge and began to descend.
The sheets cut into her palms almost immediately. Her arms shook under her weight. The smoke poured from the open window above her, heat washing over her back as she eased herself lower, inch by inch, praying with every movement. Sirens reached her ears when she was halfway down.
The sound nearly broke her.
“Ma’am! Can you hear me?”
She lifted her head, tears blurring her vision as she focused on the alley below where figures moved beneath flashing red light.
“I’m Carmen with the Fairview Fire Department,” the woman called. “You’re doing great. Just keep coming down. Focus on my voice.”
Annie clung to that voice, to its calm certainty, to the steady instructions guiding her hands. Her arms burned. Her palms throbbed. Blood slicked the fabric beneath her grip, but she didn’t stop.
“That’s it. You’re almost there. About ten more feet.”
Ten feet might as well have been miles.
“My name’s Annie,” she gasped when Carmen asked.
“Annie, you’re being incredibly brave. We’ve got a safety net ready. Just a little more.”
Strength, she didn’t know she still possessed carried her downward until the words finally came.
“Okay. Let go. We’ve got you.”
Letting go defied every instinct screaming through her body. But she trusted the voice. Trusted the hands waiting below. Trusted the God who had carried her this far.
She released the sheets.
The net caught her, knocking the breath from her lungs as she fell into waiting arms. Firefighters steadied her, helped her to her feet, wrapped her in a blanket that barely cut the cold shaking through her.
“Jack,” she rasped, clutching Carmen’s sleeve. “Detective Calloway’s still inside. Storage room at the back. Jack Calloway. Please tell me he’s out.”
Carmen was already speaking into her radio.
