Page 144 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

The roof above them groaned. If the fire had reached the attic beams, they didn’t have a lot of time before they came crashing down on them both.

The killer squeezed her wrist tighter. Then he ran two gloved fingers of his free hand slowly across her visor. “Be careful little eyes what you see.” At another loud crack, his eyes crinkled even more. “Goodbye, Jules Adler.”

She had never hated anything more than she hated the sound of her name on his lips.

The man grasped the end of the tube attached to the cylinder on her bag and wrenched it free before grasping the respirator and tearing it from her face. Her helmet clattered to the marble floor.

Immediately, she breathed in thick, choking smoke and coughed. Her attacker released her wrist and backed toward the door, his eyes locked on hers until he disappeared into the bedroom.

Jules covered her mouth and nose with her bent arm. “Help.” Yanking on the cuff, she called out as loudly as she could, although between the roaring of the flames and the sirenswailing inside and outside the house, she doubted anyone would hear her.

Where was Hernandez? Whoever finished their search first was supposed to find the other so they could confirm the upper story was clear before descending to the main floor together or, if necessary, crawling out a window from the second floor. Why was he taking so long?

Her stomach twisted. Had the killer gotten to him as well? If so, neither of them was making it out of this alive. Jules unzipped her coat and felt around for her portable radio. It hung low, the antenna just below the hem of the coat to allow for the best signal strength. As it was dangled down her left side and her left hand was out of commission, Jules couldn’t reach it, no matter how much she contorted her body in an effort to bring it closer.

Abandoning her efforts, she called out again and again, until her throat was hoarse from yelling and smoke. When yanking on the cuff yielded no results, she brought her other elbow up and slammed it down on the towel rack over and over. The metal bar didn’t give one bit. It was no use.

Coughing, Jules slumped against the wall between the rod and the marble shower, her eyes stinging so badly she could barely crack them open. When she managed it, she glanced up at the ceiling, the paint blackened and bubbling.Look, I know we haven’t spoken much lately, but is there any chance you could help me here? Please? We can’t both go this way. It would kill my mom.

The thought of her mother, tiny and fragile as she huddled beneath the blankets the night before, deepened the ache in Jules’ chest already throbbing from toxic inhalations and desperation.At least look after her.

An intense cough gripped her body, and she pressed her arm to her mouth again. A distant, muffled sound broke through thecrackling of the fire and the groaning of the house. Perspiration dripping down her temples and the sides of her face, Jules strained to catch it again. Was someone calling her name?

Summoning the last bit of strength in her body, she hollered, “I’m here,” before succumbing to another coughing fit.

Hernandez burst into the room. “What’s going on. Why—” His gaze landed on the cuffs. “Who did that?”

Not wanting to get into it, Jules shook her head slightly.

“You’re right. Let’s just get you out of here.” Hernandez scooped up her respirator mask, but the killer had broken the valve when he ripped it off the bag. Hernandez dropped it and shoved off his helmet to grasp the bottom of his own mask.

Alarmed, Jules rasped, “No, don’t.”

He ignored her as he removed it and tugged it down over her face. “You need to breathe.” While she inhaled greedily, he grabbed her mask and slid it over his head, which would at least block some of the smoke. Then he raised the hem of his coat to snatch the radio free. Lifting it to his mouth, he issued terse instructions for someone to immediately bring an axe to the master ensuite. Still speaking, he strode to the towel bar and drove his elbow into it over and over. “Tell the medics to get the stretcher ready. Adler is going to need medical attention.”

The ceiling cracked above them, and they both glanced up. “Go,” Jules urged him, her voice muffled behind the mask.

“No way. I’m not leaving you.” Hernandez dropped the radio into his coat pocket. As he did, another firefighter shoved into the room, gripping the axe. Jacques Philippe. He asked no questions—bless him—only took two seconds to grasp the situation before heading over, nudging Hernandez out of the way, and bringing the blunt head of the axe down on the bar. Philippe was a big guy, and it only required four slams of the axe to rip out one end of the bar.

The other remained fixed in the wall, which was helpful, since Jules was able to slide the cuff off the bar. She was free.

Hernandez leaned close. “Want me to carry you?”

Jules shook her head again and, although she wasn’t entirely convinced it was true, said, “I can walk.”

“Let’s go, then.” He ripped off both their packs before sliding the straps of his over Jules’ shoulder. Then he wrapped one arm around her waist and the three of them lurched from the ensuite. They weren’t out of the bedroom yet when loud crashing behind them suggested the ceiling had given way.

Philippe led them to the stairs, using the axe to sweep pieces of wood and other debris out of their path. As they descended, Jules caught flickers of orange coming from the kitchen and living room. Amazingly, the path to the door remained clear of fire although still thick with smoke as the three of them stumbled to the exit.

In seconds, they were outside. Hernandez ripped the mask from his face and gulped in air. Jules’ legs gave out, and he and Philippe lowered her to the ground as medics ran toward them, pushing a stretcher.

For a few seconds, Jules stared up at the sky, the blue intense and the sun blinding. The world spun around her, and she closed her swollen, stinging eyes and gave in to the blackness.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Dante pacedthe small hospital room. Each time he reached the end of the bed, he stopped and studied Jules’ face—pale as the white sheet pulled up to her chin—willing her to wake up.