Marjorie Thelen - The Hieroglyphic Staircase

Elena and Miguel were hunched over, hugging each other.

“Are you okay?” She wiggled to make more room. The space was not big enough for two of them.

“Shut up in there.” Jorge banged on the metal cabinet lid of their prison.

When he had staggered soaking wet into the clinic Elena hadn’t recognized him. What she did recognize was the gun. He had brandished it in front of her face and told her to shut up and get the kid before her boyfriend came back.

Elena had had a tough time waking Miguel. He responded like he had been drugged, like he didn’t want to acknowledge the storm or the trouble they were in. Finally, she had picked him up and carried him out of the clinic — at gunpoint. She had no desire to play hero. She wanted to protect Miguel. She wasn’t sure what Jorge was going to do with them, but she knew now that he was the killer.

She could hear him rattling something on the metal box, and a sickening feeling gripped her. He was locking them in.

“There,” he said in a loud voice. “That should hold you. Don’t try anything.”

“Wait,” said Elena. She would not let fear overtake resolve. “I know what you are looking for. If you let us go, I’ll help you find it.”

Silence at first. Then Jorge said, “How do you know I am looking for something?”

“I figured it out. The Museum director had a book with a drawing in it that gave me the clue.”

He fumbled with the lock and threw open the lid. Elena hugged Miguel close to her side. He turned his head into her shoulder, as if to deny Jorge and the whole ordeal were real.

Jorge pointed the gun at her. “What are you talking about?”

Elena was grasping at straws. All she had was a hunch why the first man was murdered, and she hadn’t been able to work it all out until fear had her in its lucid grip.

“What are you talking about, I said?”

He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up so hard Elena winced. She faced up to him hands clenched, jaw tight with determination.

“You killed that man, and you were blackmailing the director. But you haven’t found what you’re looking for because you don’t know where the murdered man hid it. I do.”

Jorge grinned like a clean picked skull. “You think I’m looking for something, huh? You’re so smart, you think you know everything.”

He squeezed her arm until she wanted to scream but she bit back the scream and stared him down. This man must not know how frightened she was.

“Let Miguel go back to the clinic, and I’ll take you to the place.”

“Where is it?”

She hesitated because she wasn’t sure how much he knew and she wanted to give as few clues as possible. So she said, “In the Archaeological Park.”

“In the Park, is it? There’s just the small matter of a hurricane, but I think it’s over.”

Elena didn’t bother to tell him this was only the eye of the storm, the quiet that would lead to more destruction. She wanted Miguel out of danger.

His eyes narrowed to slits. He seemed to be considering her offer. Elena didn’t allow her gaze to waver. She wanted to scream but that wouldn’t help. No one was around. He had brought them to a deserted warehouse on the edge of town. On the way, they had narrowly escaped injury from falling limbs and electric lines. The gun in her back had propelled them down the street.

“What am I looking for?” he asked, shoving his face so close to hers she drew back.

She shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. “I don’t know. But I do know where the hiding place is. I know it made you kill one man and a child and drive another to suicide.”

“Hah. What if I did? So you think you know where this hiding place is.”

“Yes, I do.” She fought to keep the quaver from her voice.

He grinned. “Well, we’ll see. Get out of that box, both of you.” He waved the hand that held the gun.

Elena lifted Miguel out and then struggled to climb out herself. The metal box had sharp edges. She sliced open her knee climbing over its high side.

“Come on, stop stalling, or I take care of the kid now.”

“Wait,” she said. “There’s no deal if Miguel gets hurt. He goes back to the clinic. No harm comes to him, or there’s no deal. I don’t take you to the site.”

Jorge shoved Miguel so hard the child fell to the floor. “Stupid kid. Should have killed all of them.”

Elena’s rage almost propelled her into the ugly bastard’s face. She wanted to claw his eyes out for being a callous and coldhearted freak who would so casually take the life of a hapless child. But she had to focus on the here and now, or Miguel would not be safe. She helped him up, asking if he was hurt. Miguel shook his head.

“Get moving,” Jorge said.

She forgot the gash on her knee was dripping blood and turned to face Jorge.

“I want your word Miguel is not harmed. He’s not going with us.”

Jorge laughed. “You want my word? You can have it. Now get moving.” He shoved her shoulder.

Elena held onto Miguel’s hand as she led him through beat up wood crates stacked in the warehouse. She had seen the fear in the child’s eyes when she had helped him up. Jorge would pay for this. He would pay.

The building creaked and shuddered. Water dripped everywhere, and they were soaked to the skin. Elena’s one thought was to get Miguel to the safety of the clinic. After that, she didn’t know. She’d try to get away or overpower this maniac somehow. The hurricane was the least of her worries.

Jorge shoved them out of the warehouse. When Elena turned toward town, he pushed her in the opposite direction.

“No, bitch, we go this way.”

“The clinic is the other way. Miguel goes to the clinic.”

The barrel of the gun swept across her face before she realized what he was doing. The power of the blow knocked her to the ground. Through a daze she heard Miguel crying.

“Shut up. I’m not taking the kid to the clinic. What? And have someone pick me up? Stupid, stupid bitch. I’m not that dumb.”

He kicked her hard in the leg.

“Now get up.”

Elena held the side of her face with her hand, trying to get her breath, trying to quell the throbbing pain in her head. She reached for Miguel to quiet him.

“Shhh,” she said to him, “I’m okay. Don’t cry.”

“Get up,” Jorge screamed at them.

She staggered to her feet, hoping to avoid another debilitating blow. Pain shot through her thigh, and she fell when she put weight on the leg he kicked.

She now entertained no hope of their coming out of this alive.

Pandemonium reigned at the police station. Dominic found Connie Lascano buried behind people gathered around her desk three deep. She was standing, carrying on a conversation with the woman closest to her.

“The water is rising in the river,” she said to the woman, “so you won’t have much time. Better leave now.”

The woman in tears turned and pushed through the crowd, a man following her.

Dominic used the space created by their departure to wedge into Connie’s attention zone. She was now on a walkie-talkie.

“All right. Come back in then.” She clicked off. “Who’s next?”

Dominic butted in front of everyone. “Elena and Miguel are gone. They disappeared from the clinic. I asked Elena to stay, and I know she would have if she could. Someone has kidnapped her. Maybe that guy from the hotel.”

Connie’s face was parked in a permanent frown. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“She, Miguel and I were riding out the storm at the clinic and during the lull I went outside to see if I could be of assistance and when I got back they were gone.”

“Maybe she went out to check on things. Maybe something happened, and she went for help.”