“You have to let my sister go,” Christina begged. “You can see she's not well.”
“Do you have cuffs on you?” Ranger asked me.
I dug around in my bag and came up with cuffs.
“Cuff them to the r
efrigerator,” Ranger said, “and then see if you can find a first-aid kit.”
We both had previous personal experience with gunshot wounds, so we had the drill down pretty good. I found some first-aid supplies in the upstairs bathroom, got a sterile compress on Ranger's arm, and bound it with gauze and tape.
Ranger tried the locked room off the kitchen.
“Where's the key?” he asked.
“Rot in hell,” Sophia said, her snake eyes narrowed.
Ranger put his foot to the door and the door crashed open. There was a small landing and steps leading down to the cellar. It was inky black. Ranger flipped the light on and went down the stairs, gun drawn. It was an unfinished basement with the usual assortment of cartons and tools and articles too good to throw away but of no practical use. A couple pieces of outdoor furniture partially covered with discarded sheets. One corner devoted to furnace and water heater. One corner devoted to laundry. And one corner had been walled off floor-to-ceiling with cinder blocks, forming a small enclosed room, maybe nine by nine. The door was metal and padlocked.
I looked at Ranger. “Bomb shelter? Root cellar? Cold storage?”
“Hell,” Ranger said. He motioned me back and fired off two rounds, destroying the lock.
We pulled the door open and staggered back from the stench of fear and excretion. The small room was unlit but eyes looked out at us from the far corner. Mooner and Dougie were huddled together. They were naked and filthy, their hair matted, their arms dotted with open sores. They were handcuffed to a metal table that was attached to the wall. Empty plastic water bottles and bread bags littered the floor.
“Dude,” Mooner said.
I felt my legs go and sank down to one knee.
Ranger pulled me up with a hand under my armpit. “Not now,” he said. “Get the sheets off the furniture.”
A couple more gunshots. Ranger was freeing them from the table.
Mooner was in better shape than Dougie. Dougie had been in the room longer. He'd lost weight and his arms were scarred with burn marks.
“I thought I was going to die here,” Dougie said.
Ranger and I exchanged glances. If we hadn't intervened they most likely would have. Sophia wouldn't have turned them loose after kidnapping and torturing them.
We wrapped them in the sheets and got them upstairs. I went to the kitchen to call for police and couldn't believe what I was seeing. A pair of cuffs hung from the refrigerator. The refrigerator door was smeared with blood. The women were gone.
Ranger stood behind me. “Probably gnawed her hand off,” he said.
I dialed 911 and ten minutes later a patrol car angled into the curb. It was followed by a second car and EMS.
We didn't leave Richmond until early evening. Mooner and Dougie were hydrated and dosed with antibiotics. Ranger's arm was sutured and dressed. We'd spent a lot of time with the police. Difficult to explain some of the story. We neglected to mention the pig heart en route from Trenton. And we hadn't muddied the waters with Grandma's kidnapping. Dougie's 'Vette was found locked in Sophia's garage. It would be shipped back to Trenton later in the week.
Ranger gave me the keys to the Mercedes when we left the hospital. “Don't attract attention,” he said. “Wouldn't want the police to look too closely at this car.”
Dougie and Mooner, dressed in new sweats and sneakers, were bundled into the backseat, looking clean and relieved to be out of the cellar.
The ride back was quiet. Dougie and Mooner instantly fell asleep. Ranger went into his zone. If I'd been more alert I might have used the time to sort through my life. As it was I had to concentrate on the road, working not to drift off to autopilot.
I opened my apartment door half expecting to find Benny and Ziggy. Instead I found quiet. Blissful quiet. I locked the door behind me and collapsed on the couch.
I woke up three hours later and stumbled out to the kitchen. I dropped a cracker and a grape into Rex's cage and apologized. Not only was I a slut lusting after two men, I was a bad hamster mother.
My answering machine was furiously blinking. Most of the messages were from my mother. Two were from Morelli. One was from Tina's Bridal Shoppe telling me my gown was in. A message from Ranger telling me Tank had left my bike in my lot, advising me to be careful. Sophia and Christina were out there somewhere.