Lucas stumbled down the stairs, and one of his neighbors grabbed him before he tumbled and did serious damage like breaking a leg.
“Let me get this for you. Is this Troy’s football-card collection?”
“Yeah, he’d be destroyed if something happened to it. Is there anyone else inside?” asked Lucas.
“I think everyone is accounted for.” They both looked across the street, counting heads. The apartment complex was small, only eight units with nineteen total people, including Mrs. Levitz.
The two yap-yap dogs who lived downstairs next to her were barking at the commotion. All the downstairs apartments were filled with smoke, there was smoke practically surrounding the building outside, but Lucas didn’t see any flames. Were they in the back?
A fire truck could be heard in the distance. This whole thing was weird. Lizzy ran up to him. “That smoke—it’s toxic. Everyone’s eyes are burning. But there’s no flames. What is this?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said. His own eyes were watering so much it looked like he was crying. They walked across the street, and Lucas put his backpack on the lawn.
He called Regan. Her phone rang and rang, she was probably sleeping. Lizzy ran to help the owner of the dogs when one of them got away.
Regan answered. “Hey.”
“There’s a fire at my apartment.”
“Where are you?” She now sounded more alert.
“Outside, with my neighbors.”
“Do I hear fire trucks?”
“Yes, I can see the lights, a couple blocks away.”
“Stay put. I’m on my way.”
He ended the call and was about to walk over to where his neighbors had gathered when someone came up behind him.
A hand fell onto his left shoulder, and another came around his front. “Say one word and I will kill you.” He felt a sharp jab in his right side, then excruciating pain. He could feel blood dripping down his skin.
“Whoops,” the woman said.
He turned and saw a black Jeep Wrangler on the street. Its rear door was open. A rag came down over his face, and it smelled sweet. He looked at the woman, as he clutched his side. Everything looked fuzzy and unfocused.
Rachel Wagner?
Rachel pushed him into the back seat as he grew woozy, and then he couldn’t think straight. He heard Lizzy scream his name. She sounded far, far away…then the car, with him in it, was moving.
He lost consciousness before the first turn.
Forty-Six
Regan jumped into her truck not five minutes after Lucas called—she’d simply pulled on the clothes she wore yesterday. She was twenty minutes out of town, but this early in the morning, she punched it, figured she could make it to Lucas’s in fifteen minutes.
Her phone rang as soon as she got on the highway.
“Regan Merritt,” she answered.
“It’s Lizzy Choi. Rachel took Lucas! I called the police. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“The smoke alarm went off, and we were helping people get out of the apartment, and I went to catch this woman’s dog, and Lucas was just standing there. He was going to call you.”
“He did.”
“I don’t know what happened, he was right there, but I saw her and did a double take. She pushed him into her Jeep, just pushed him in! I ran after her, but she drove away, nearly hit me with her Jeep.”
“Did you get a license?”
“Partial. The smoke really burns and everything is blurry.” She rattled off three numbers. “I told the police, too. Why would she do that?”
Last night, Nicole Bergamo had come out of her coma but wasn’t communicative. Her doctor told Detective Hernandez that he could try to interview her this morning. While the hospital knew not to release the information to anyone, and Vicky was completely on board with keeping the information to herself, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that Rachel had a way of finding out her status, maybe through another sorority sister. Even if she didn’t know for certain, Nicole wasn’t dead, and that meant Rachel’s time as a free woman—if Regan was right about everything—was limited.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Stay with people.”
Regan made it in fourteen—relieved she didn’t get pulled over on the way. The fire trucks were there; she parked as close as she could. As soon as she got out of her truck, her eyes started to water. She saw no flames, only lots of smoke. Maybe the fire was already extinguished?
She found Lizzy standing with an older woman holding a black-and-white cat. “Regan,” Lizzy said, relieved. “You have to find him.”