Her notes scattered to the base of the elevator, the rustling sound of pages growing louder as she slumped down along with them. Frank reached his arms out, catching her as her knees gave out completely. The lift had stopped, she was aware of that much, but why couldn’t she get her brain to work?
Sophia reached for the railing with thick, numb fingers, but her consciousness was fading fast.
The sound of a few uttered words pulled her back for one second more. “Time to play that game.”
Just as Sophia realized what he meant, the numbness took over.
Chapter 21
Blayze raced along the dark, circular corridor, furious that he hadn’t been warned about the exit change. “What’s happening, Roman?” he grumbled as he sped around the back loop of the stage.
Dim wall lights sped by on either side as he moved.
“I overheard someone telling Sophia the path was blocked. He said he was taking her to find you. Some secret passageway that was really an elevator.”
Blayze slowed as he came to a set of closed double doors. Frantically, he jostled each knob, but neither budged beneath his grip.
“Sophia?” he called, slamming the doors with his fist. “What do you hear now?” he asked Roman through the mouthpiece.
“A lot of squeaking. And rattling. I think they’re on the elevator he was talking about. Don’t have a visual.”
It’s fine, Blayze. She’s going to be fine.Yet, even as he assured himself that was the case, Blayze feared it wasn’t true. He reached out his phone and dialed her number before rearing back to kick the doors open. He was about to ram his foot against the weakest spot when the knob started to twist.
One ring sounded from the line as Blayze dropped his leg.
The door flung open. “Are you here with Ms. Vasco?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Blayze breathed, “where is she?”
Second ring.
He recognized the interns before him, told himself he had nothing to panic over, but his instincts were screaming otherwise.
“They went to go find you,” Jane said.
Fourth ring.
“Where?” he pled.
“Down the secret lift. It’s just behind the curtain.”
Sophia’s voicemail picked up.
Blayze tucked the phone back into his pocket as he rushed past the interns and toward the thick, hanging fabric, vaguely aware that the last speaker of the night was still giving his speech. “Hey,” he asked over his shoulder as he moved back the curtain. “Who was she with?”
“Frank,” the two hollered behind him.
When Blayze opened the small door, a metal gate stood between him and the lift, which, he realized, was making a slow climb up back to the top. Rattles, clanks, and screeches marked its progress.
“Sophia?” He called down as he waited. “Roman, you there?”
“I’m here,” said Roman through the small device. “I made a call to the police station in case there’s been foul play. They’re sending a buddy of mine out to help investigate. As for the body cam, my eyes and ears are shot. But that sound I can hear in the background right now… that’s the last thing I caught on Sophia’s end. You’ve got to be right where she was a minute ago.”
Blayze nodded, willing himself to stay calm. The lift came into sight. He leaned over to take a closer look, realizing how painfully slow the old thing moved. He’d be waiting all day.
Instead, he gripped the waist-high gate, then hoisted himself up, over, and into the dark, empty space. He caught a long stretch of air before crashing onto the wobbly contraption floor.
With a quick survey, Blayze located the operating box and punched the round redstopbutton. He shoved a thumb into thedownbutton next, waiting for the elevator to respond. At last it screeched to a stop, the thing rattling like a bear-jostled cage. With a whining groan, chains clattering, it began a jerky decline.
