Page 82 of Craft Brew

Harper’s voice a floor above boomed, shouting at someone, and Emma flinched, staring up at the ceiling.

Nic grasped her hand, squeezing. “We’re gonna get out of here.”

Her big brown eyes shot to him. “How?”

Straightening, Nic stood in the middle of the room and made a three-sixty turn, looking for any other exits or windows.

None.

“Have you seen him go in or out any way but the stairs?”

Emma shook her head.

He searched the table for potential weapons. Wrenches, anvils, sockets. Something he could make work for an attack.

Emma moved, trying to stand, and fell back against the wall.

The thump echoed.

He brought to mind the outside of the house, having paid close attention when Harper had driven the car around back. He considered the arrangement of windows and the approximate dimensions of its footprint, then surveyed the basement again. It was smaller than the building footprint. Or at least this part of the basement was. He stepped around the mattress, knocking gently on the wall Emma had fallen against. Hollow, with only a few studs. Plenty of room to go through.

“Okay, Emma, I’m going to need your help, if you’re up to it.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“This is a false wall,” he said, laying a hand on the wall in front of them. “There’s a room behind it. Maybe an exit.” He picked up the mattress, and when the waft of putrid smells assaulted his nose, he forced the rising bile down his throat. “Can you hold this upright? It’ll muffle the crash.” He patted the corner of the mattress where he wanted her to hold it. “Now when I hit it, you let go, okay?”

She nodded, standing back already, but holding it up like he asked.

He backed up as far as he could in the space, then ran full-tilt, shoulder first, at the wall. He crashed into the mattress. And through the wall.

The mattress fell to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust, and Nic landed on top of it, almost retching from the smell.

Then almost retching from the waking nightmare he’d fallen into. The walls were covered.

In pictures of Cam’s sister.

Every inch of wall space, at least several years’ worth of pictures, highlighted by the light streaming in from above.

And beneath him, beneath the mattress, the ground wasn’t flat. It was mounded, like a grave.

He closed his eyes, hoping to wake up in bed with Cam, hoping this was all just a nightmare that would fade in the light of day.

Light of day.

Eyes popping back open, he scrambled up and whipped around.

There was a subbasement window, definitely big enough for Emma to crawl through, and maybe even big enough?—

“What’s going on down there?” Harper jiggled the lock on the basement door.

Emma burst into the tiny room and almost fell, letting out a yelp. “He’s coming,” she cried in Nic’s arms.

Nic looked around for something to use to bust through the window.

Finding nothing, he hiked up a foot and thanked all that was holy that he’d slipped into Cam’s heavy-ass boots this morning. Tearing off one, then the other, he didn’t waste time or try to be quiet, heaving them through the window and opening up an escape route.

Steps thundered down the stairs.