The Edge

She covered her face with her arm where the needle had gone in, to deepen the darkness even more. Alex felt herself shrinking away, to nothing.

Then she heard someone coming.

Chapter 78

The stairs to the lower level emptied into a large room set up with an old-fashioned bar, and billiard and ping-pong tables. Behind a set of leather-covered double doors Devine found an elaborate home movie theater. There was also a lavish bathroom, and a well-equipped gym and sauna. Next to these spaces was a wine cellar with a glass door that allowed Devine to see that it was empty of anything except wine.

He reached one end of the basement, found nothing useful, and turned to go the other way.

He searched quickly but comprehensively, calling out Alex’s name periodically. At the opposite end of the basement was a large ceramic wall with each block about two feet square. Set at one end of the wall was a large hanging clock. On the other end was a floor-to-ceiling mirror. In the middle of the wall recessed shelves held vases and knickknacks, and another section contained rows of photographs of what looked to be the Maine coastline.

Shit, was I completely wrong about all of this, thought Devine. But then he still had the upstairs to search.

Heaven. Is Alex in heaven?

Depressed, he put one hand against the wall, dropped his head, and noted his muddy feet. He had tracked dirt in on the highly polished marble floors.

Forensic evidence to nail me on a felony.

And then his gaze drifted to the set of footprints that were situated right in front of the wall, where the recessed shelves were. Those were not his. They weren’t muddy, and they were bigger than his. And there was another, even more critical, difference.

They are heading out of the wall.

Devine instantly started running his fingers along the ceramic blocks, grabbing every crevice that he could find. He did the same with the knickknacks but found them secured to their spots on the shelves. And then he found the pictures were fastened in place as well.

He looked at the clock. The hands were set at six and twelve. He put his ear to the clock. He heard nothing. Thinking quickly, he took the hand on the six and moved it to twelve to match the other hand.

There was an audible click, and a door-size section of the wall opened up on stainless steel pivot pins.

Devine held his gun in front of him and peered around the doorway. He couldn’t see much because there was little light. He did a silent count to three and plunged in, his Glock making wide arcs as his gaze swept for threats.

Devine had imagined many things this space might contain, some outlandish, others quite possible. He had never thought of anything like this.

A hospital bed was tucked against one corner. It was empty. Next to the bed was an IV stand with empty bags on hooks. An automated medication dispenser was also attached to the IV stand. It had been turned off.

Bed covers were on the floor along with a pillow. It seemed like someone had made a quick exit.

He looked around the room some more. Under the bed he saw some lengths of rope. He examined them and then set them back down. He next spotted something else that might or might not be important.

Blood.

A few drops by one of the bed’s wheels.

The upstairs search took longer than he wanted it to, especially after he found nothing.

He opened a door off the kitchen and found himself in the garage. There were four bays. Two were occupied. He walked around the four-door Chevy Equinox and then eyed the Massachusetts plates.

He opened the driver’s side door and sat in the seat. He checked the glove box, found the Hertz rental agreement, and confirmed that Benjamin Bing had leased the vehicle at Logan Airport. Under the passenger seat he found a fully loaded Sig Sauer nine-mill with an extended mag. And a pair of brass knuckles. He would have had to check those in his baggage if he had indeed flown up here. He got out and popped the trunk, and in there he found zip ties, duct tape, and a serrated knife that had Bing’s name stenciled on the handle.

Standard abduction tool kit. But no sniper rifle.

He leaned against the car and wondered if any of these things had been used on Jenny. Had they taken her here, strapped her to the bed, fed her a truth-drug concoction to make her talk, and then killed her here before dropping her onto the rocks?

He turned to where a white van was parked in the fourth bay. He noted the painting equipment and metalworking supplies that were positioned next to it.

He opened the van’s door and checked the glove box. He found the registration and saw the name.

BING AND SONS.

He shone his light around the van, noting that the right front fender and bumper and the headlight frame were in the process of being repaired.