“I need my papers!”
“You didn’t put any in your bag?”
“No! I wasn’t done looking.”
Running toward the records room, Oliver grabbed Ansley’s pack, hopped over the fallen filing cabinet, and scooped up whatever he could reach. Men’s voices carried from the direction of the main elevator, followed by the woosh of gears. Oliver shoved the bag into Ansley’s arms and slammed the panel shut in hopes it would buy them time.
“We need to go.Now!”
Oliver froze at the frantic clang of an alarm that started below them and spread to every floor. Ansley scrambled to his feet and dragged Oliver down the hall. As they ran for the elevator, Oliver tried to hear if the men had made it into the office over the alarm, but the keening of the bell was scrambling his thoughts. If they knew about the panel in the wall or the secret doors on the floor below, he and Ansley would be in trouble.
“How do you start this thing?” Ansley yelled as he yanked the elevator’s handle, but it didn’t move.
“A key?” Oliver replied. There were definitely people in the office now.
“There is no key!”
“Then, get out!”
Oliver and Ansley took off down the stairs just as the hidden panel slammed open against the wall. Lights shown through the examination rooms as they tore down the awkward slope of the stairs, stumbling over their feet on the oddly spaced treads. Oliver’s heart beat in his ears, though it did little to drown out the horrible sound overwhelming his senses. They had to get out. The heavy camera thudded against his back as he slowed around the bend to keep from careening into the wall. When he looked back, Ansley was half a floor behind him wincing as he rose to his feet. Grabbing his arm, Oliver hauled the other man to his pace. A door behind them opened as they rounded the turn to the second floor. Oliver slammed another door shut before it could fully open, but he could hear people running down the hall after them, though he didn’t dare look back.
As they reached the penultimate flight of stairs, a dusty figure came sprinting toward them. Ansley jerked back, but even in the dim light, Oliver knew it was Felipe. He motioned for them to hurry. The second they were out of the labyrinth, Felipe slammed the grate shut and ushered them down the hall to the boiler room. Voices yelled after them and something rammed hard against the grate, but all Oliver could see was Felipe’s form as he followed him to safety. Joe waited at the entrance to the boiler room, but the remaining color drained from his face as a man called for him from the kitchen.
“Come on,” Felipe gave Joe’s shoulder a squeeze as he locked eyes with each of them. “We have to go. Don’t stop moving. Remember, Broadway. Go!”
***
OLIVER’S GREY EYESlocked with Felipe’s as he nodded and ran out of the boiler room and into the kitchen. Men and women in blue uniforms and dressing gowns poured into the basement like hornets. Before they could reach the kitchen, Oliver cleared the door and disappeared into the night faster than Felipe thought possible. Felipe shoved Ansley forward before the horde could reach him, but from the way Ansley’s chest heaved, he could tell the blonde man was running out of adrenaline.
“Get the steamer! Now!”
As Ansley fled, a man grabbed Felipe’s arm, and he punched, not caring where it landed as long as the man’s hand loosened. Yanking from his grip, he hurdled forward, dragging Joe with him. The mob surged at the bleeding worker’s outcry. Hands grabbed at Felipe from all angles. Somewhere along the way, he lost his jacket and nearly lost the bag with his camera and gun, but he held tight. The bones in his hand crunched as he lashed out. With a quick elbow to the stomach and a push, he twisted free from their grip. Joe released a stifled cry as someone took a swing at him, but Felipe caught him and dragged him forward. A dower woman in a blue dress stood at the door with shaking hands, trying to set the lock. She looked up at Felipe and Joe with something between fear and revulsion. Barreling forward, Felipe shoved her out of the way and burst up the stairs into the cold night. He caught a glimpse of brown and blue beside him and kept running.
A steamer nearly roared past him, but upon catching him in the headlamps, Ansley slammed on the brakes. “Get in, Galvan.”
“Where’s Joe?” Oliver called from the backseat as he threw open the door.
“What do you mean? He’s—”
The street around Felipe was empty. There was no one. Not anyone from the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul, not Joe, not a single soul but him.
“Joe? Joe!” he cried but only heard the deafening rush of his pulse in his ears. “Did you see anyone running?”
Oliver shook his head. “Just you.”
“But he was right next to me. I saw him. I— We have to go back,” Felipe said, throwing his bag into the back and climbing inside as police bells clanged at the end of the street.
“Go back? Are you out of your mind? I’ll drive halfway down the block, but if we don’t see him, we’re out of here. I’m not getting arrested because your informant took the money and ran.”
As Ansley drove down the block, Felipe scanned the shadows for any sign of Joe on the ground or in the air. He could have taken to the rooftops or fire escapes, but Felipe hadn’t seen him do it. He hadn’t said anything. Oliver’s hand closed around his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze as Ansley peeled down the next side street, narrowly avoiding a speeding police wagon. Fear and guilt churned in Felipe’s gut as he sat back and grimaced at the pain flooding his fractured fingers. Had he left him behind in the fray? Or had he gotten out but run the wrong direction? Felipe hadseenhim or thought he had, but he hadn’t truly looked. He hadn’t made sure no one was following them. He had made a mistake that might cost a man his life.
Clenching his hand until the pain flared enough to clear his mind, Felipe’s guilt galvanized into resolve. If Joe was still in there, Felipe would bring the Paranormal Society down on the institute’s head before they could make him or their evidence disappear. One way or another, he would get Joe out.
