Starting down the nearest hallway he began banging on doors as he passed and shouting “Fire!” at the top of his lungs. The farther he got from the source of the flames the better he could breathe. Smoke was layering on the second floor now, filling the space at the ceiling first, leaving air near the floor more breathable.

  If it wouldn’t have slowed him down he would have dropped to his knees and crawled. As it was, he bent at the waist and tried to cover his mouth and nose with fabric from his hoodie.

  Nobody responded on that floor. Elevators had been out of service all along so he opened a stairway door and ran through, slamming it behind him to slow the rise of the smoke and the spread of the fire.

  Arriving on the third floor Rafe secured the stairway door the same way, adding to the fire blocking. As old as the hotel was, hopefully there was not a lot of manmade material in the furnishings because fumes from plastics, etcetera, could be deadly without being concentrated.

  A roof access door stood open. He braced, aiming at the space as he passed through to check. There was nobody left up there. At least not that he could see. Which meant the kidnap victims must be already outside on the ground or trapped on the third floor. Like he was.

  Rafe turned on his heel, reentered the hotel from the roof access and started down the nearest hallway, hitting doors with the butt of one of the guns and shouting. Halfway down it occurred to him that even if Hannah could hear him she might think it was a trick.

  Doubling over coughing, he straightened and yelled, “It’s me, Rafe. The hotel’s on fire.” Every new door he came to got the same message, punctuated by sneezing and coughing and gasping for breath thanks to the doses of smoke he’d taken in below.

  His nose was too stuffy to accurately assess the air on that floor, but he imagined there must be enough smoke seeping through for others to smell it. To believe him. To decide to show themselves and come out of wherever they were hiding.

  If they stayed hidden for too long they might lose their chance to escape. Even if the old hotel had stood next to a fire station, which it did not, he doubted any efforts would stop the fire from engulfing every floor at this point.

  Tears of sorrow mixed with the effects of the smoke and trickled down Rafe’s cheeks. Each step he took was harder, each room he reached seemed farther from the last.

  At the far end of the hallway his body gave out. He thudded against the door, hit it with his fist, then dropped to his knees with a feeble, hoarse, “Fire, fire.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Hannah and Lucy figured out what was wrong when they saw patrol cars gathering and their headlights illuminating the smoke billowing from the first floor. Some of the young women panicked while others were nearly catatonic after their long ordeal and didn’t react at all.

  “What do you think, Gram?” Hannah asked. “Up or down?”

  “Probably up, until we figure out where everybody else is,” Lucy said. “See what you can find to use as a weapon.”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” Hannah said. “So is Kristy. She found us a couple of fancy curtain rods with pointy ends.”

  “You’re taking a plastic lance to a gunfight?” Lucy huffed. “I had something a little more lethal in mind.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just an old lady, past her prime.”

  “Never,” Hannah countered. “You’ll never be too old for a fight. I saw you at the church, remember?”

  “I do. Seems like that was months ago, not just days. I’ve aged a lot since.”

  “We all have,” Hannah said. She looked to Kristy. “Look around for something else, something dangerous?”

  “A lamp? The rod holding up hangers in the closet? The only other thing is an ironing board.”

  “Rods are good. Shower rods may be metal. Closet ones, too. And see if you can find the iron that goes with the board. It’ll be hard and pointed on one end.” Hannah’s gaze traveled over the obviously frightened group. “All of you. Look, please. Anything is better than nothing.”

  Unspoken thoughts enlarged the scenario to include a face-to-face confrontation of her basically defenseless bunch of women against guns. That kind of battle was unwinnable.

  So what kind is, at this point? Hannah asked herself, refusing to consider a negative answer.

  Thor began to bark at the closed door. Whiffs of smoke rose in faint, twisting columns from beneath, as if someone was out in the hallway smoking a cigarette.

  Hannah approached, grabbed his harness with one hand and fisted the base of a table lamp with the other. She called to Kristy. “Open it. And be ready.”

  “Fast or slow?” the teen asked.

  Mouthing Fast, Hannah poised to go on the offensive.

  Kristy turned the knob. Jerked open the door.

  Hannah froze as Rafe McDowell fell face-first at her feet. She dropped to her knees. It was easy to tell he was still breathing because of his gasping and coughing.

  She helped him sit up. He looked awful—and wonderful at the same time. Just having him with her again gave her hope.

  “We saw the smoke. How bad is it?”

  “Bad,” Rafe choked out.

  “Can you walk?” He proved the answer by standing. One hand was on the door, one on her shoulder. “Should we head for the roof?”

  Rafe nodded. “Can’t go down. Too much smoke and fire.”

  “There are fire hoses in cabinets on the walls in hallways. Can we use those?” Hannah asked. Enough smoke was beginning to reach their floor that she sneezed. Some of the others were already coughing.

  “There’s no water pressure to fill them,” Rafe said. “They’re useless.”

  “Maybe...” Hannah had been planning to rip linen into strips and use that to let everyone safely down from the roof. Now, she had a different idea.

  She pushed past Rafe to check the hallway. “One of those hoses is right out there. We can use it like a ladder.”

  Lucy showed up behind her with the clothes iron and shouted, “Stand back,” as she swung it at the glass cover in front of the fire suppression system.

  It shattered. She knocked loose slivers from the frame with the metal iron, then stood back as Rafe pulled on the thick canvas hose. It wasn’t long enough to reach very far past the window in the room they’d been hiding in but it looked adequate for a closer one.

  Hannah led the way with Thor, taking care to avoid letting him step on broken glass. The guest room next to the fire hose attachment was unlocked, as were they all. She crossed quickly to the window. It wasn’t designed to open so she threw a chair at it. The window vibrated but didn’t break.

  “Bring the iron,” she called to her grandmother. “And the rest of you get in here.”

  Lucy used the cord to swing, whipped the heavy iron around her head like a stone in a sling and let fly at the window. It shattered into a million pieces. Grinning, she turned to Hannah. “David and Goliath.”

  “Good one.” Now that the window was open Hannah could see plenty of activity below. If the siege was going as well as it appeared to be, the Fleming gang had been overcome.

  She turned to the kidnap victims. “We’re going to drop this hose out the window. You’re all young and strong so you should be able to slide down. Hook one arm around it if you don’t think you can hang onto the canvas covering well enough.”

  “I’m scared of heights,” one of the girls said.

  “Me, too,” another echoed.

  “Everybody join hands,” Hannah ordered, reaching for the closest person and finding it was Rafe. She clasped his fingers tightly and felt an immediate surge of determination and strength. “We’re going to pray, then we’ll do this. Understand?”

  Nodding, the others followed her instructions. She bowed. “Thank You, Father, for showing us a way out. Help us to complete Your plans for our rescue. Amen.”

  That was all that needed to be said, she decided. The asking was one step. Following through was another.

  Hannah took Thor to the window, watched as Rafe and Kristy dropped the hose its full length, then backed away. She held out a hand. “Okay. Who’s first?”

  It had immediately occurred to her that Thor would be unable to descend the way the humans did. She vowed to get him out of the burning building one way or another, even if it meant staying with him until a fire truck with a ladder eventually arrived. She refused to entertain the notion that that might happen too late for both her and her beloved dog.

  * * *

  The vibration of his cell phone caught Rafe’s attention. He stepped away from the window where he, Lucy and Hannah had been helping a young women over the sill and out the window. Three of them had already reached the ground and been scooped up by troopers.

  “Hello.”

  “Status?” his superintendent asked, shouting over the background noise.

  “We’re on the third floor. All the victims we knew about are present, including Kristy Fellows. We’ve rigged a line from a window to the ground and so far it’s working.”

  “How many more do you have?”

  Rafe did a quick count. “Looks like about eighteen, not including me, Hannah Lassiter or her grandmother.”

  “All right. Make it fast. Fire units are still twenty to thirty minutes out. You need to evacuate.”

  “Copy,” Rafe said. His gaze met Hannah’s and lingered. “Everybody goes out the window.”

  “I’m not leaving Thor.”

  “I figured that’s what you’d say. Lucy and I can handle this. You go find something to make a sling for him and I’ll take him down with me.”

  “That’s too dangerous.”

  “For me or for the dog?” Rafe asked, slightly perturbed.

  “For both of you,” Hannah answered.

  He didn’t like seeing tears filling her eyes. She must not give up. Not now. Not when they were so close to their goal.

  “My jacket was okay for the short drop back at your house. I don’t think it’s secure enough for the trip down the hose. You need to rig something that fits my shoulders and attaches to his harness.”

  In obvious agreement, Lucy left the window with Hannah and the dog. Rafe’s fondest hope was that the older woman’s arms were also strong enough to keep her from falling when she took her turn to shinny down the fire hose. If it had been filled with water it would have been about two inches in diameter. Flat, it was harder to grasp securely. Not impossible, just more difficult.

  He lost count of how many victims he had assisted. Turning to welcome the next he saw only Hannah, Lucy and Thor. “Ready?”

  “Gram will go next,” Hannah said, displaying a ripped, knotted sheet. “We’ve tied these strips together with a loop on one end. She’ll wear it as a safety harness, then we’ll pull it back up and tie a figure eight for your shoulders and fasten Thor’s harness to it.”

  Rafe gestured to her. “Okay. You next.”

  “No.” Hannah was shaking her head vigorously. She coughed. “I’m last.”

  “Unacceptable,” Rafe countered.

  “I have to be here to help you rig the dog for transport. He trusts me.”

  “He trusts me, too.”

  “Enough to let you manhandle him and sling him across your back? Are you sure?” She paused for a moment. “I’m the dog expert. You need to listen to me.”

  As much as he disliked the idea, he knew she was right. “Okay. Lucy next, then me and the dog. But I expect to see you right behind me. Promise?”

  She raised a hand, palm toward him as if taking an oath. “Promise.”

  Lucy slipped a loop of torn sheet over her shoulders and under her arms, wincing from the pain in her ribs, then put a leg out the window. Assisting her, Rafe felt her trembling yet she showed no more outward signs of discomfort other than gritted teeth and a deep scowl. Hannah’s grandma was quite extraordinary.

  That thought almost made Rafe smile. Coughing hid his temporary amusement. The smoke was getting thicker, more acrid, partly because the fire below was building and partly because they had been unable to shut the door with the hose passing through its opening.

  Lucy shouted and waved once her feet touched ground. Rafe hauled the sheet back up, hand over hand. Hannah was waiting to tie more knots and form a figure eight like a backpack for him to carry Thor. She explained as she prepared to tie a portion of the sheet line to the dog’s harness.

  “I think that will work,” Rafe said, intending to encourage her.

  “It had better. Sit down on the floor so I can get him closer to your back. I’ll lift him when you stand up and help you through the window.”

  That gave Rafe pause. “Are you sure we’ll fit?” Lack of an answer was his answer. She didn’t know. Neither did he. They’d have to try it to find out.

  Supporting Thor and speaking gently to calm him, Hannah finished tying the knots. “Okay, Rafe, on your feet. I’ll lift Thor as much as I can before I have to let go. You’re bound to be off balance so plan for it.”

  “Gotcha.” The weight of the dog would have been more of a problem if he’d tried to walk very far carrying him. As it was, the few steps to the window were manageable. He bent at the waist, still coughing some, and sat on the sill.

  “Try to hold him up while I get both legs out and around the hose,” Rafe said. “I’ll tell you when to let go.”

  “Okay.”

  He could see her teeth clenching, a grimace on her face as she struggled to help him balance the heavy dog. Turning, he let himself down until he was hanging on the hose, alone.

  “I’ll keep hold of the extra sheet for as long as I can, just like we did with Gram. It might help.”

  “Okay, as long as you don’t stop my descent,” Rafe warned. “It may be a little fast.” Hannah was letting the ripped fabric slip through her fingers as he pushed off and started down.

  The trip took every spare ounce of his strength. When he landed there were men waiting to relieve him of his canine burden and congratulate him on the success of the mass escape.

  Rafe looked up expecting to see Hannah traveling down, herself. Instead, she was leaning out the window, watching him. He gave her a thumbs-up sign and waved. “Come on.”

  Suddenly, her head and shoulders disappeared. Rafe held his breath waiting for her to stick a foot out and swing around to grasp the hose.

  She did not.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Hannah whirled. A shadowy figure appeared in the doorway behind her. For an instant she wondered if one of the troopers or government agents had come to rescue her. Then she realized who it actually was.

  She backed up as far as she could. Her hips hit the window sill and she froze.

  Deuce Fleming was coughing worse than Rafe had been so it took him a few seconds to speak. “Last man standing wins.”

  Although Hannah wanted to match wits with him and stall the inevitable, astonishment kept her quiet. This was not supposed to end this way. The good guys were supposed to win. And they had for the most part. Only one person was left to face this evil man because the rest of his victims had escaped and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Except kill me, she added, wondering if it was actually God’s will that her earthly life end then and there.

  “Please, no, Lord,” she whispered. “I don’t want to die. Not now. Not like this. I haven’t even had a chance to tell Rafe how much he means to me.”

  A massive coughing fit doubled Fleming over and he lowered the gun.

  That was all Hannah needed. She threw one leg through the open window and grabbed for the hose. It slipped out of her grasp. Her second leg bent at the knee to keep her from falling, but it also kept her within range of her worst enemy.

  Trying again she looped her whole arm around the hose and let herself drop outside. Both arms and legs circled the hose, slowing her descent as the rough canvas scraped off skin. Adjusting her hold she looked up. Fleming was leaning out the window and pointing his gun down at her. There was no way to duck. No way to dodge. Even if she let go and fell she’d probably die when she hit the ground so she just hung on and kept sliding.

  Ten feet from the bottom she heard and saw an explosion. A ball of fire blossomed out the third floor window and the hose went slack, dropping her into Rafe’s waiting embrace.

  Flabbergasted, Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her toward a waiting ambulance. Thor galloped along at his feet, barking as if they were playing a wonderful game.

  The rumble of Rafe’s voice was drowned out by the pounding beats of her heart and repeated explosions within the old hotel. Hannah didn’t care what had blown up or why. She was simply overcome by the timing and the way God had implemented her rescue—with the use of her favorite state trooper, of course.

  Clinging tightly, Hannah closed her eyes and buried her face against his smoky shoulder, hardly able to process what had just happened. None of her efforts should have been enough, yet they were. Imagine, a powerful explosion at just the right moment and this amazing man waiting below and risking his life to stay close enough to catch her.

  He didn’t loosen his hold and set her on her feet until they were back behind the carriage house where several ambulances waited next to the command post van. Then, he set her away, keeping hold of her shoulders.

  “What do you think?” he asked, looking worried.

  “About what?”

  “About what I just told you.”

  Befuddled, Hannah kept gazing at him and cupped one of his cheeks gently. “I can hardly hear you, even now,” she said. “The explosion hurt my ears.”

  “You’re going to make me say it again, aren’t you?”