Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Rafters
Mark pulled back into the shadows beneath the mezzanine stairs, his back pressed flat against a moldering support pillar. His heart hammered in his throat. Amanda wasn't alone. Julian walked behind her, wielding an iron crowbar, his boots splashing carelessly through the puddles of rain that had accumulated on the floor.
"Check the loading dock," Amanda instructed, her tone devoid of any humanity. "They couldn't have gone far on foot with two freezing brats. Remember, Julian—no bullet holes. The coroner has to conclude drowning or exposure after a hit-and-run accident."
"The girl can talk, Amanda," Julian grunted, shining his light into empty wooden crates. "She knows your name. She knows what you did to her mother's keepsakes."
"She won't talk when she's at the bottom of the reservoir," Amanda replied flatly. "Search upstairs. The office is the only dry room left."
Panic flared like white fire in Mark's mind. Upstairs. Clara and Leo were trapped in the foreman's booth. If Julian went up those narrow stairs, there was nowhere for them to run. Mark scanned his immediate surroundings. Next to him lay a pile of discarded heavy iron gears and broken chains from the old logging lift.
He waited until Julian took his first heavy step onto the bottom tread of the stairs. With a sudden burst of movement, Mark hoisted a ten-pound iron chain and hurled it across the cavernous room into a stack of empty steel oil drums.
The resulting crash was deafening, metallic thunder echoing through the rafters.
"Over there! By the back bay!" Amanda hissed, drawing a small revolver from her coat pocket. Julian turned instantly, abandoning the stairs and charging toward the source of the noise.
Mark didn't hesitate. He slipped up the stairs like a ghost, entered the office, and closed the door behind him without making a sound. Clara was still dutifully rubbing Leo's arms, her eyes wide with terror as she heard the commotion below.
"Daddy?" she breathed.
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"Shh," Mark whispered, locking the office latch. He walked over to the back window of the office. It opened onto an exterior metal fire escape that led directly down into the raging, swollen creek running beside the mill. But as he unlocked the rusted window frame, the wood groaned loudly, splintering in the damp air.
From below, Julian’s voice boomed: "He's in the office!"
