Black Lace [Internet Bonds Series Book 7] Read online

  Parking the Chevelle in the garage, he noticed the Lincoln gone. He didn't think anything of it considering the season and the fact it was their first Christmas together with Candace. He walked over to the house, going to the kitchen door then inside.

  Since Chelsea had moved in, he'd come home in this way or the back door to the townhouse and drop his work clothes in a basket in the laundry room. He'd liked her suggestion and it worked out well.

  He walked into the kitchen feeling something drastically wrong. By now, Ming-toi would have been at his feet or on the counter waiting for attention or something to eat.

  "Ming?"

  A muffled howl caught his attention. He followed the sound of it to the pantry, opened the door and found his very scared cat glaring at him, his eyes red with anger.

  "Ming-toi, come here,” he said calmly, reaching for the cat. The cat hissed at him, backing into the corner. Reed grabbed him and gently pulled him out of the pantry, stroking his neck while trying to calm him. Once he had, he fed the cat dinner—something he'd been deprived of—and waited a few minutes to make sure the cat was all right.

  Once Ming-toi had eaten and gone about his normal after-dinner routine, Reed walked out of the kitchen. Crossing the entry, he went though the mail then upstairs to change and wait for the ladies in his life to return, grateful the servants had left earlier. Since their marriage, they'd kept a day staff, wanting the house to themselves at night. His housekeeper would come in and take care of things as always then return to the carriage house while Candace's nanny stayed in the room adjoining the nursery. It worked out perfectly, everyone happy.

  He crossed the room, grabbing his favorite pair of jeans on his way to get changed. He came out of the bathroom and froze where he stood at the sound of a strange but dreadfully familiar voice.

  "It's about time you came home."

  "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "We have unfinished business to discuss."

  "We have nothing to talk about,” Reed stated. “Get out or I will call the cops."

  "But why, sweetheart? I thought we had fun together."

  "And I've regretted it ever since."

  "Engine 11, Ladder...” the dispatcher's voice said. “Reports of an explosion..."

  "I didn't,” she said, smiling, her reasons twofold.

  "You've made our lives a living hell."

  "I just made sure you associated with the right people. With me, you won't need the job, the social outcast..."

  "Get out,” he said, with more force in his voice.

  Jocilynne pulled out a Berretta, having left the smaller gun to be destroyed with the house.

  "I suggest you listen to me."

  "Engine 11 on location, I have a three-story corner townhouse fully involved. I need a second alarm assignment and notify utilities."

  Reed listened to the call trying to ignore Lynne only the gun made him pay attention to her.

  "What do you want from us?"

  "That's better,” she said, coming closer to him, Reed putting space between them. “Her? She's got other things on her mind but you—I want to..."

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  "Philadelphia all-call at Engine 11's location, manpower needed. I.C. on-scene reporting exposure hazards. Repeating..."

  "What do you mean, Lynne?"

  "Just what I said. I guarantee, she is not thinking about you at this moment."

  Reed's pager went off.

  "11C, respond to..."

  "Lynne, I've got to go. I want you out of..."

  "You don't need to go."

  "I do,” he repeated. “Hold on a second ... What the fuck have you done?"

  "I took care of your problem."

  "You're my only problem,” he started before he realized what she meant. “No, you didn't..."

  "I did."

  "You bitch!” he screamed, pulling out his cell phone.

  "Don't you dare,” she warned him, waving the Berretta.

  Reed dialed Nicholson's number from memory.

  "Matt, she's here. She's responsible for the explosion 11's out on."

  "Get off the phone,” Lynne ordered.

  Reed got his radio and keys while talking to Matt, ignoring Lynne for the moment.

  "Matt, Chelsea's in the house. Tell command!” Reed keyed his radio. “Carrington to dispatch..."

  "Go ahead."

  "My wife may be trapped inside the fire building."

  "Affirmative, will advise,” the dispatcher said. “Dispatch to..."

  "You'd better hope she's alive because I swear I will..."

  "You aren't going anywhere,” Lynne told him, aiming the gun at his chest.

  Reed grabbed her arm and punched her, knocking her unconscious. He pocketed the gun then knelt down.

  "Next time, remove the safety,” he said as he picked her up, grabbed her handbag and left the house. He put her in the Chevelle then slid behind the wheel. He locked the gun in the glove compartment before he started the car.

  "Carrington to dispatch."

  "Go ahead."

  "I need a police escort from Fairmount Park to the fireground. Have Matt Nicholson meet me on location. I'm driving a ‘69 Chevelle and I have one to be taken into custody."

  "Affirmative, standby,” she said. “Can you give me your route of travel?"

  The dispatcher advised Reed he would have a police escort into Center City from near his location once a patrol car picked him up.

  "Affirmative and thanks."

  * * * *

  Chelsea fought the chair, the darkness and her situation overwhelming her. She looked around her, trying to see any bit of light she could but all she saw was a tiny blinking red light near the stairway.

  The ball gag made her sick—she hated them and never used them. She had one, specially designed with a quick release in case it was needed but it stayed in its box. She tried to find one on the rig she wore but of course, Jocilynne had made sure she couldn't get it off. She'd also made sure Chelsea couldn't dislodge the ball from her mouth. Damn her!

  Fruitless attempts at yelling for help frustrated her but she refused to give up without a fight. Her host had plans and Chelsea would be the center of them—no matter what.

  About an hour later—give or take, she couldn't be sure—she heard an explosion above her. The building shook around her, Chelsea terrified. She smelled smoke, her worst fears coming true.

  Please, help me...

  She renewed her struggle to get out of the chair, tiring herself. Then she heard one sound summing up everything—the crackle of a huge flame, the house on fire.

  A second explosion happened directly overhead. Chelsea figured the initial blast would be the second floor followed by the first. In a matter of time, smoke poured into the cellar, Chelsea terrified. With the house about to come down on her, she knew she'd never get out alive.

  She heard the wail of sirens in the distance. It had to be Reed's engine company.

  Help me!

  * * * *

  Engine 11 responded to a building fire, the result of an explosion—possibly gas but authorities couldn't be sure until they investigated. When they pulled up on scene, Dan Wheldon got on his cell phone and called the dispatcher with his report. He didn't want to take any chances.

  "I've got a multistory dwelling with first and second floor fully involved. I need an aerial at this location,” he told them.

  "Box assignment dispatched due to heavy volume of calls."

  "Get me an extra alarm assignment and a battalion chief."

  "Affirmative. Rescue 1 is also en route."

  Wheldon ordered his crew to hit the hydrant and set up two attack lines. A second engine arrived from the opposite direction, its crew pulling lines to aid in the fire attack. The aerial Wheldon needed went into service for roof operations.

  "Dispatch to command, be advised one victim may be trapped in the building, location unknown."

  "Affirmative,” he said, quickly redirecting his comma
nd approach.

  "Lieutenant, I..."

  "Chief,” Dan acknowledged before he updated his superior on what had already been done.

  "Good work. Rescue 1 will go in for the rescue. They're on location on the other side. I put them on the road the moment I heard how bad it was."

  Dan nodded, grateful for the chief's efforts.

  The chief sobered for a moment while he tried to collect his thoughts.

  "Lieutenant, Captain Carrington just told dispatch his wife is the one trapped in there."

  "Holy—Get..."

  "Lieutenant, your crew is way too close to the situation if this is true. Rescue 1 will handle."

  Dan nodded, knowing the chief was right. Rescue 1 responded to any call like this anywhere in the city to effect rescue of any kind.

  "But will they get to her in time?"

  They heard sirens, expecting more apparatus arrival but instead, they saw two police cars and Reed's Chevelle pulling up and parking.

  Reed got out of the car, yelling to one of the officers to hold Jocilynne Sommersby for Matt Nicholson. He then looked for the command post.

  "I've got it, Reed,” Matt stated, walking over to them. “I came straight here."

  "Thanks, Matt,” Reed said, handing him the keys. “Her gun's locked in my glove compartment."

  "Good."

  "Have they found Chelsea?"

  "Not yet."

  "I'll be back."

  "Reed, don't...” Matt tried warning him.

  Reed headed for the Incident Command Post, meeting with Battalion Chief Jeffries.

  "Reed..."

  "Chief, what's the update and where's my wife?"

  "Second and first floors have been destroyed. We haven't been able to get into the basement yet because of the extent of the fire."

  "And with the master streams, you could be drowning her if she's alive."

  "The guys from Rescue 1 know what they are doing. Let them do their jobs,” Jeffries warned. “You're way too..."

  "You see that bitch with Nicholson? She did this. She lured my wife into that house to kill her and you tell me I'm too close?"

  "Reed..."

  "Chief, I'm sorry but..."

  "I'm ordering you not to go in there. You..."

  "Chief..."

  "Reed, as a friend, I'm asking you to wait."

  Reed threw his hands up in frustration knowing Jeffries was right. If he did anything other than wait, he could lose everything he'd ever worked for and if he didn't, he'd lose his wife—his life.

  "Fuck this,” Reed muttered.

  Jeffries turned to speak with several other officers. Reed slipped away and headed straight for the cellar steps. Going against every bit of training, he went inside a fully involved building with no gear, no breathing apparatus and the drive of a man who knew what he had to do for the woman he loved.

  He found a hand light on his way, checked to make sure it worked and went down the steps.

  "Chelsea!"

  * * * *

  Helpless, Chelsea listened to what went on around her, every crackle of fire eating the house above her. Every noise terrified her more. She knew from talking with Reed and hearing the stories when they went out with the guys or at the station when she stopped in, that fire had stages. She felt sure the stages had progressed.

  She shivered due to the dampness from the massive amounts of water she knew they had to be using to fight the blaze. If smoke or fire didn't get her first, she'd surely drown.

  Every time she heard a noise from anyone who might hear her, Chelsea tried to make her presence known. Tears filled her eyes, her efforts futile. No one could hear her thanks to Jocilynne Sommersby, who would get away with murder.

  She heard another explosion from above her. How many did Jocilynne leave?

  For what felt like the millionth time, Chelsea tried to rock the chair but she discovered the same thing over and over—someone had bolted it to the floor to make sure she didn't escape. In frustration, she threw her head back, hitting the same place Jocilynne had when she had forced Chelsea to look at her. One good thing—pain kept her alert though she couldn't be sure for how long.

  She smelled smoke from moments after the first explosion but now it became heavier as it banked down along with the other odors assaulting her senses. She couldn't cough because of the gag, the sensation making her sicker. She fought again, trying to scream. Spent, she looked around her and saw faint traces of orange light.

  Nooo!

  "Chelsea!"

  She couldn't believe she heard his voice. Please, let it be real and not imagined...

  A bright light blinded her, Chelsea closing her eyes to get away from it. A few seconds later, she felt heat of a different kind.

  "Chelsea, my God,” a voice said.

  The building groaned, Reed cursing in the darkness.

  "No matter what happens, I love you."

  * * * *

  Reed paced at the command post before disappearing. He went to the Snorkel, the aerial from 4th and Arch Street Station and grabbed an orange hand light. Making sure it worked, he took it and, after taking a deep breath and saying a prayer, he entered the basement of the fire building, damning his training and everything he'd ever learned plus departmental policy. He had to get his wife out.

  Going into the darkness, he heard water pouring down from the floors above. At the doorway at the base of the steps, he flashed the hand light's beam around the room. When he found Chelsea, his stomach tightened.

  "Chelsea, my God."

  He cautiously made his way across the floor to where his wife fought for her freedom. Setting the hand light down, he went to work cutting the straps holding her to the chair using a seat belt cutter. As soon as he freed her hand, she went to the buckle holding the gag on but she couldn't undo it because of the tension.

  "Don't move,” he said right before he slid the thin cutter between her head and the strap. Nerves got the better of her, her trembling overtaking her.

  "Please, Mistress, I can't..."

  She looked at him, a wordless command passing between them. He slit the leather, releasing her from the rig Jocilynne had purposely altered to not be removed.

  The building groaned again. He grabbed her hand, leading her to the door only a third explosion ripped through the flooring directly above them. The building caved into the cellar, debris cutting off their escape.

  Reed quickly threw himself over Chelsea, taking the brunt of the collapse.

  "Chelsea, I'm sorry. I..."

  "Shh,” she said. “Remember, I'll always love you."

  * * * *

  "Jocilynne Sommersby, you are under arrest for..."

  Jocilynne watched the flames engulf the house destroying her enemy. She barely heard Matt Nicholson read her rights to her, engrossed in what she watched.

  Suddenly, she broke out laughing hysterically.

  "She's gone!” she yelled, wanting everybody to hear.

  "Who is gone?” Nicholson asked, motioning to several patrol officers to listen up.

  "Chelsea Strawbridge—I left her in there."

  "Ms. Sommersby..."

  "The bitch is dead,” she stated. “Now, that's hot."

  "Take her to the Roundhouse and put her in holding. Don't let her make any calls until I get there."

  "What about her cell phone?"

  "Confiscate it ASAP—it's evidence."

  "Yes, sir,” the officer said. “Sir, the fire chief wants you."

  "Wait a minute."

  The ground shook when the third explosion ripped though the remains of the house. Near silence took over the immediate area with the only sounds heard being the apparatus engines and Jocilynne Sommersby's maniacal laughter.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 13

  "Reed, I...” Jeffries started to say. “Where the hell is Carrington?"

  "One of the guys saw him grab a hand light and..."

  "Damn it, I told him to stay here. He knows
better."

  "If it was my wife, I'd be doing the same thing,” one of the others said.

  The third explosion sent firefighters running for cover while more debris rained down on them. An eerie silence crept over the area.

  "You said he went inside?"

  "Yes, sir, down into the cellar."

  The sound of maniacal laughter filtered to the command post. Jeffries looked in the direction it came from, then caught the detective's attention. He wanted the detective to bring the suspect over to his position.

  "How many charges did you set?"

  "They're all done,” she said, before laughing more.

  "Explain."

  "I placed one on each floor on delayed timers. They're all done and so is she."

  "Who?"

  "Chelsea, of course. Now I can have Reed all to myself."

  "Reed?"

  "Reed Carrington, silly."

  "You idiot. Don't you know he went in there and is feared..."

  The woman stopped laughing.

  "Don't say dead. I didn't do all this so he could wind up dead."

  "Take her away,” Nicholson said for the last time.

  "What the hell is going on?” Jeffries asked.

  "Stalking gone way too far,” Nicholson answered. “Now, what about Reed and his wife?"

  "Rescue 1 had to regroup for specialized rescue. If we're lucky, Reed may have made it to the area near the entrance. If not, there'll be a lot of labor-intensive work to get to them."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The older some of these houses are, the heavier the construction, plus the upper floors are already down adding extra weight to a weakened first floor."

  "Shit!"

  "Exactly,” Jeffries agreed. “I'm glad that bitch didn't leave any more surprises. I'm glad Wheldon had the good sense to use a cell phone instead of keying the mike."

  "What do you need from us?"

  "Get the crowds back. I don't want gawkers or photographers anywhere near when we bring them out."

  "You got it,” Nicholson said. He left and started issuing orders to move the police lines back several blocks. He advised them of the situation stating the dangers of the fire building. Evacuees from neighboring homes asked questions he tried to answer, his mind elsewhere.

  Jeffries heard him and could easily see his distraction. Once he had finished giving the patrolmen orders, Jeffries caught Nicholson's attention and had the man join him at the command post.