In Hell: When Love Kills A Small Town Mystery

Chapter 35

Cash fled the room and slumped against a wall. The floor was cold and hard, but he took no notice. His hand cupped his face. He was gulping for air.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Gotta get outta here. Gotta ...

From somewhere deep in the complex, the hollow echoes of a woman's scream bounced off the walls. His head popped up. Grabbing the flashlight, he ran toward the sound. For once, he wished the crickets and frogs would refrain from their nightly chatter. Above their din, he could just make out the river splashing against the rocks. He knew exactly where he was – near the main factory floor – the place where his mother was murdered.

The flashlight's beam danced in the large workspace, fading into the distant blackness. Somewhere outside, he heard the lonesome hoot of an owl. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He strained to hear. Every nerve in his body seemed to be pulsing with electricity. He could feel eyes on him, but he had no idea where the enemy was hiding.

From deep in the cavernous gloom a rhythmic cadence started. Someone had started a motor of some kind. For a second, Cash thought he was mistaken. How could it be possible after all these years?

But it was true. A motor was running.

Something fell and clanked on the cement floor. Cash swung to his right. He took three steps forward, and then his flashlight died. He frantically shook it. Nothing. He slung it into the darkness. He stood shivering. A nerve in his cheek began to twitch.

"Come on out, you bastard." Cash yelled.

His eyes frantically searched right and left, but he saw only impenetrable blackness.

Soft laughter sounded. It echoed and danced in the darkness. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from. Cash's breath came in short spurts. His racing heart felt as if it would leap from his rib cage. Shrill, hollow sounds filled the building. He covered his ears with his hands. It sounded like a million razor-sharp iron fingernails scratching down a rusty iron blackboard. Metal ground on metal. Maddening. Frightening. Incessant.

An overhead light flicked on. Its dim illumination barely lit the factory floor.

Something was advancing towards him from the ceiling. Cash screamed.

Out of the void, a man's body swung down from the ceiling and crashed into Cash. The blood-stained corpse knocked him to the ground. One of the many hooks attached to the mangled cadaver's shoulders snagged the handcuff on Cash's left wrist.

He screamed again, but this time from pain. Metal on metal. The wenches and pulleys and hooks and chains groaned under the weight of both men being pulled toward the high rafters of the rotting building.

The factory's massive doors slid open. Lori was silhouetted in the moonlight. She was sitting on the edge of the factory floor. Her hands and feet were tied with white rope. A light piece of cloth was tied over her mouth.

The battered head of the corpse chained to Cash looked down at him.

"Leland," Cash whispered.

It was all he had time to say. He was being hoisted from the ground.

The burn in his wrist was excruciating. He convulsed in pain, twisting and writhing in the air. He screamed, grabbing at Leland's belt and missed. He groped for the belt a second time and found it. He clutched the leather binding and pulled his body's weight upward, trying to prevent his left hand from being pulled off.

Every muscle in his body screamed for relief. Sweat poured from his forehead and burned his eyes like acid. His head lolled back and forth. He fought the pain that came in waves and threatened to render him unconscious. Cords of sweat-stained hair hung across his forehead. His face was bloody and grimy from the gore of Leland's body. He turned his head toward Lori.