My forearm aches. The man on the stairs did more damage than I thought. A three-inch scratch, red and raw, crosses my wrist. He said he was security. Could he have been hired by the owners to intimidate Dallas? Did he go too far?

  “The police are going to have to sort that out in the morning,” I say. “Or whenever they get over here. In the meantime, we need to protect ourselves.”

  “Or maybe”—Hazel dabs at her eyes again, balls up the tissues, and tosses them onto the floor, where they join the mess and chaos—“it was my stalker.”

  “But you just said he wasn’t your stalker.”

  “Maybe he hurt Dallas to try to intimidate me. I believe Dallas was protecting me, Jacob.”

  “That man on the stairs? The one I was just talking to? You said you’d never seen him before.”

  “I hadn’t. At least, I think I hadn’t.”

  This Abbott and Costello routine is leading nowhere. “Hazel, for now, we just need to get downstairs. This is the top floor of the building. It’s not safe. The way the wind is blowing, the roof could come off.” I glance up at the ceiling. “Water could come pouring in. You said it yourself—the building isn’t in great shape. That’s why Dallas complained about it. Now, let’s get you out of here.” I clap my hands together as if this will jar Hazel into action.

  “My papers…”

  “We can’t take all of them, Hazel. You’ll just have to—”

  “Then I’m not leaving. I’ll take my chances.”

  “Hazel, no. Look…”

  She turns her head to the side, childishly acting as if I’m not here. It wouldn’t surprise me if she threatened to hold her breath until she turned blue. My patience is quickly evaporating, so I play my last card.

  “Hazel, I want you to come downstairs so you can meet Jordan and Mackenzie. I told them how important you are to me. They both want to meet you. We’re all going to hide together downstairs, barricade ourselves in Lloyd’s apartment. You just need to get up so we can get on the elevator and get down there before the power goes out. And before that man comes back, whoever he is.”

  “You hate the elevator. I know that.”

  “This is an emergency.”

  Hazel keeps her face averted. “Your family can come up and meet me here. They’re young. They can climb the stairs.”

  The hurricane shutters rattle in the wind. The door shakes. Reminders of how bad things are—and how much worse they’re going to get. Her stubbornness, which can be somewhat charming in the best of times, does nothing for me as the storm bears down on us.

  As my family waits downstairs.

  “Hazel, this is your last chance. I have to go.”

  She offers me a continued view of the side of her head. My hands go into the air and land against my thighs with a dull smack. I suddenly realize how cold it is in Hazel’s apartment. The air-conditioning is blasting out of the vents. It doesn’t help that everything on my body is still wet. Hazel is never going to listen to reason. I have to accept it.

  I stand up and cross the room, heading to the door. I don’t have a plan. I don’t know if I can actually go through with leaving Hazel in these conditions. But I don’t know what else to do. She’s refusing to budge—as Stanley predicted—and at some point, tough decisions have to be made.

  Hazel’s voice stops me, prevents me from having to see if I have the courage of my convictions.

  “What did you do with my gift, Jacob?”

  My hand hovers above the doorknob. “Your what?”

  “My going-away gift. Do you still have it?”

  I pat my pockets as if I’m going to find the box on my body. “I have no idea where it is, Hazel. I might have…” I try to think. I had it earlier. With my luggage. And the baseball. I may have dropped Hazel’s gift in Dallas’ apartment. “I must have put it down. It’s not the most important—”

  Hazel scoots forward on the couch. She starts rocking. It’s the same routine she always uses to get herself up. She grunts, and it takes everything in me not to go help her. I’ve tried that, and it only makes Hazel frustrated.

  “Hazel, what are you doing?”

  “If you lost my damn gift, I’ll kill you, Jacob.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious, young man.”

  She rises from the couch a few inches, but then falls back. She starts rocking again.

  I cross the room, lean down next to her. “Are you actually getting up and coming with me?”

  “I’m not coming with you,” she says. “I’m finding that gift. If you can’t take care of it, I will.”

  “Why are you so worried about it? What is it? A puppy?”

  “Will you just help me off this damn couch and take me downstairs? Haven’t we talked enough?”

  Rather than argue, I do exactly as she says.

  Anything to get her down to the second floor.

  Twenty-Seven

  Hazel shuffles across the landing to the elevator door, my hand on her arm in case she stumbles.

  She’s going nowhere fast. It’s clear to me now that it would be a slow, dangerous trek for her down the stairs. She’d probably never make it.

  The elevator is our only real option. Even though the thought of taking it makes my stomach churn with the ferocity of the ocean.

  My hand is shaking when I hit the down button. Once, twice, and three times. I know it won’t make the elevator come any faster, but it gives me the illusion of control.

  Hazel shivers.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m cold. And wet.”

  “The elevator will be dry.”

  “You really think that old contraption’s going to work, Jacob?”

  “I doubt it. Want to try our luck on the stairs? Only eight floors to Lloyd’s place.”

  “Pshhh. I’m only out here because you lost my gift.”

  “I didn’t lose it. I misplaced it. Temporarily.”

  “I told you to take it home. And not to look back. And yet, here you are.”

  “Helping you.”

  “Pshhh.”

  The elevator gears and cables whine loudly enough to hear them over the wind and rain. They squeal like a dying animal. Eight floors. One elevator ride. A few minutes of my life…

  Hazel shivers a second time. I wish I’d made her wear a coat, but we rushed out the door of her apartment so fast I didn’t have time to think. No way I can risk going back. I might never get her out of there again.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. When I glance at her, her eyes trap me in their gaze. “About Dallas. I know you’re close.”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry for you too. I know the two of you were close.”

  She doesn’t respond. The wind whips through the landing. I shiver as well.

  “I know you’ve lost some people in your life.” I feel like I’m on thin ice. Have I gone too far?

  She remains silent so long I think she’s ignoring me. Then she says, “Thank you.”

  The elevator rattles to a stop on her floor. The door slides open with the speed of a glacier.

  My heart speeds up. “Ready?” I ask.

  “I feel like the poor chimpanzee they launched into space.”

  “We’re not going into orbit. We’re going downstairs.” I put one hand in front of the open doors and keep the other on Hazel. “Come on.”

  Hazel shuffles into the elevator with me at her side. The space inside feels smaller than I remember. As if the storm has managed to shrink it a few feet. The floor is wet, and two of the four lights in the ceiling have burned out.

  Every nerve in my body tingles. Each one of them exerts its own tiny will, trying to get me to turn around and exit this death trap. I do my best to fight them off, forcing my feet to stay in place.

  After a deep breath, my quivering finger hits the number two.

  The heavy doors close, possibly even more slowly than they opened. Now would be a good time to pray—if I believed in prayer.

  We hang suspended for a long moment, the steel doors shut in front of our faces, before the car lurches into motion.

  “Oh, my,” Hazel says.

  That’s about all there is to say.

  She pulls her arm free of my grip, fumbling, until her hand clasps mine. Tight. Her skin is sweaty. She holds on to me like it’s for dear life.

  I get it. I do.

  I hadn’t thought a creaky elevator ride would scare someone as tough as Hazel, but it seems to do exactly that. She starts to hum, presumably to distract herself. I distract myself by trying to decipher the tune, and just as I do—“Lonely Is a Man Without Love”—the two working bulbs above us flicker. We look up at the same time, Hazel’s hand squeezing mine even tighter, and as soon as our eyes land on them with hope, they flicker out. We are surrounded by total darkness. A split second later, the elevator car jerks to a stop, clunking as loudly as a locomotive when it does. As soon as the elevator gears stop grinding, we hear it—the sound of the wind howling just outside the thick walls of the elevator shaft.

  Twenty-Eight

  “Oh, no.” Hazel’s grip tightens even more. She squeezes my hand so hard it hurts. “No, no, no, no.”

  “Easy, now.” It’s blacker than the darkest night inside this thing. We can’t even see each other.

  “This is like being in a coffin.”

  “It’s not that bad.” But it is that bad. The wind slows outside, and the dampening of sound is like dirt being shoveled over the lid of a casket. I have the strong desire to claw and scratch my way out. I suppress my worst impulses for Hazel’s sake, feeling like I’m a parent who has to calm a child. It’s just like all the times I had to put on a brave face for Mackenzie when she was scared.

  “Hazel, I have to push the emergency button.”

  “Please do.”

  “I need both of my hands.”

  She doesn’t seem willing, but she finally lets go. I move forward like a blind man, reaching out with both of my hands until I make contact with the elevator’s control panel. The floor buttons are flush with the panel. I hit as many of them as I can, but nothing happens. My pressing becomes more panicked, less controlled.

  I work my way lower, find the raised emergency knob, hit it as hard as I can.

  It makes a screeching ring, like the fire alarm in my grade school. Dallas explained once that the elevator has a backup power system that brings it back online even when everything else is out.

  I wait for that to kick in.

  At least everyone in the whole building now knows that someone is stuck in the elevator. And they can probably guess who.

  Not that there’s anything they can do about it. Dallas could—maybe—but he’s gone.

  In some small way, it makes me feel better to hit it again. Like whistling in the dark past the graveyard. So I do. I smack it again and again with the edge of my closed fist.

  “I don’t think that’s helping,” Hazel says. “We’re going to die in here.”

  “No, we’re not, Hazel.” Even though what I’m really thinking is Yes, we are.

  “We’re going to be in here until Christmas. Why did I let you drag me into this contraption?”

  “Because I wanted to save your life.”

  “I was safer in my apartment.”

  “You’re actually safer inside this stupid thing if the roof comes off.”

  I hit the alarm one more time. “Damn it.” My voice is louder than I intend, the sound bouncing off the walls and making me feel more trapped.

  Maybe it was a bad idea to get into this thing. It seemed like the best option. But now that we’re stuck here in the dark, it feels like the walls are closing in. Like we’ll soon be squeezed into pulpy flesh.

  My breathing comes faster, panic rising in my throat like a choking wad of cotton.

  I suddenly feel farther away from Jordan and Mackenzie than I did when they were still in Ohio. I feel like I’ll never be able to reach them.

  Every step I’ve taken has led me farther and farther away from them. Every choice has been the wrong one.

  When I left Ohio and came to Florida…

  When I left Dallas alone in his apartment…

  When I gave Alaina the keys…

  When I got into the elevator…

  “Jacob?”

  “What?”

  “I have to tell you something, and it’s important.” Hazel pauses for a long moment, letting me register her words. “If I don’t get out of here…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I don’t make it, and I might not, you have to find that gift.”

  “Hazel, why are you worrying so much about a gift?”

  “I worked hard on that gift, Jacob. It’s quite meaningful to me. And to Dallas. If you care about him at all…”

  I hit all the buttons again, to no avail. Hazel’s right—we could be in here a long time. Maybe the entire night. Maybe we will die in here.

  “What does Dallas have to do with the gift?”

  “If you care about him, find that gift. Promise me, Jacob. Promise me right now.”

  “Yeah, okay, Hazel…”

  Something thumps in the elevator shaft. Thump-thump-thump. Like a person is banging somewhere.

  A second later, I think I hear my name. Jake? It’s faint, but I’m pretty sure I’m not imagining it.

  “Hello?” I wait. “Hello?” I say more loudly.

  No one answers, but a couple of moments later I hear the sound of more thumping along the side of the elevator shaft. Like someone is running up the stairs. Like multiple people are running up the stairs.

  Someone yells my name again, and this time I can hear it more clearly. “Jake?” It sounds just like Stanley. Like Stanley is right outside the elevator door.

  “Stanley? Is that you?”

  “Jake!” The voice yells, saying one word at a time, “Are? You? Okay?”

  “We’re stuck!” I yell back through the elevator doors.

  I can barely make out what he says next. “Well, that’s obvious.”

  “Stanley?” I yell again.

  “I’m here.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. Everyone…”

  “What?”

  Again he says one word at a time. “Everyone. Is. In. Lloyd’s. Apartment.”

  “Jordan and Mackenzie?”

  There’s a long pause. It’s dead quiet. Where did he go?

  “Dad?” a voice calls out. It’s Mackenzie. She’s there. Right on the other side of the elevator doors. “Dad, are you okay?”

  Twenty-Nine

  “Kenzie. Go to Lloyd’s apartment. Please.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  “Is Mom there?”

  “I’m here, Jake.”

  “Go with Stanley.”

  Mackenzie’s voice gets louder. “Are you hurt, Dad?” She sounds upset.

  “I’m fine. Just stuck.”

  Sweat covers the back of my neck. It feels sticky and slick. Hazel breathes heavily beside me. The walls are moving again. I place one hand on the wall in front of me and the other on the wall next to me, trying to convince myself things aren’t really closing in on us.

  “Why did you get in there, Dad?” Kenzie yells. Just like a teenager to ask why at a time like this. “You hate elevators.”

  I swallow hard. My throat is too dry. I have to work to get the words out. “Kenzie, just go with Mom.” I lean against the elevator door. “Go with Stanley. Okay?”

  “Are you really okay?” Now it’s Jordan who sounds upset.

  “I’m fine.” I’m not sure there’s ever been a larger disconnect between my words and feelings. “Just go.”

  “Jake.” It’s Stanley again. “You know…” He hesitates. Like there’s something he doesn’t want to say.

  “Spit it out, Stanley.”

  There’s no time for secrets. We’re yelling at each other through an elevator door while a hurricane churns toward us. Secrecy is out the window.

  “Someone is here, Jake. In the building.”

  “I know.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Go back downstairs. Just go.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’re going,” Jordan yells through the door.

  “Good,” I yell. “I’ll be there soon.” It’s like I’m trying to convince myself.

  I wait, listening. But no one says anything else. I assume they’ve headed back down the stairs. My throat still feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, but the feeling of panic eases a little. At least they’ll be safe when they get to Lloyd’s place. It’s the best option they have—that any of us have.

  “Okay,” I say, more to myself than to Hazel. “Okay.”

  I take a few deep breaths, my hand still pressed against the steel door in front of me.

  “Are you okay, Jacob?”

  “I guess.”

  “I’m getting hot.”

  “Me too. I’m sorry there isn’t somewhere to sit.”

  “My legs are starting to hurt, but I’m not worried about that. That I can handle.”

  “We’ll get out of here, Hazel. We will.”

  “I was going to say…Well, never mind….”

  I turn from the door. My eyes have adjusted enough for Hazel to be a fuzzy shape in the darkness. “What is it, Hazel?”

  “It’s just…Stanley.”

  “What about him?”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t trust anybody.”

  “That’s not true.” She sounds huffy. “I trust you…and Dallas.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’ve led you into a dead end here.”

  “But, Stanley,” she goes on as if she didn’t hear what I just said, “he’s a tough case. You remember the man who was pounding on my door?”