“No, I didn’t, girlie. If you mean that car bomb, that was a mistake. The bozo I hired did it all wrong. Why would I kill her when I needed information from her.”
Brownley backed out of the wire enclosure. “I don’t want anything to do with murder, Reston. You kill them and you’re on your own.”
For the first time, Nancy saw uncertainty in Reston’s icy gray eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” He backed out of the cage and slammed the door. “You come up with me. We’ll talk.”
Brownley looked worried as he secured the padlock.
As soon as they were out of sight, Nancy began looking around for a means of escape.
“I’m so sorry, Nancy,” Ann said. “They fooled me. I thought it was you driving that cab. I opened the door to get in, felt a stinging in my arm—and that’s all I remember.”
“Forget it. My dad’s hearing is this afternoon. If we don’t get out of here, we’ll probably wind up in the nearest river and my dad’ll wind up in jail.” She peered out of the enclosure. “And it doesn’t look like Jim will be able to help us.”
Scooting over to the wall, Nancy leaned her back against it and pushed herself to a standing position. She then reached into the trash barrel for one of the oil cans and tilted it toward her wrists. There wasn’t much left in it, but what little there was oozed over her hands, coating them with the thick fluid.
It took draining the dregs from two more cans before her wrists were slippery enough for her to work the cord off. She then untied her feet and freed Ann.
But their problems were far from over. The enclosure was locked, and Nancy had no idea what happened to the pick she had been using when she was caught.
“Pssst!”
Nancy’s head snapped up. Bess, on all fours, scuttled over to the wire cage. Her eyes were twice their usual size. She looked heavier than usual, too.
“Nancy! Ann! You’re okay!” She looked at the lock with alarm.
“My pick set may be out there on the floor somewhere,” Nancy said. “See if you can find it.”
Bess pawed through the trash outside the door. “Here it is. Now what?”
“The weave of the wire is too small for me to get my hands through,” Nancy said. “You’ll have to get it open for us.”
“Me?” Bess swallowed and squared her shoulders. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
Nancy prompted her, forcing patience and encouragement into her tone. It seemed to take forever, but after a struggle, the lock clicked open and the door came ajar.
“Quick! This way,” Nancy said and started for the row of boxes.
“Uh, I think I’m going to need help.” Ann’s voice was weak. Her legs seemed to be even weaker. “It’s that stuff they gave me.”
Nancy and Bess looked at each other in dismay, then moved back to her side. Awkwardly, they maneuvered her between the cars and pushed and shoved her through the space at the end of the boxes.
At the bottom of the conveyor, Bess shook her head. “No way she can make it up this thing, Nancy. You go on. I’ll stay with her.”
Ann shook her head. “No! Leave me. You’ve got what you need to help Carson. Get out of here. Go to him.”
Nancy would have loved to do just that, but she felt responsible for her two friends and Jim. It was certain that if they didn’t get away, Reston would be glad to shoot them.
She looked at the door to the courier service. “Let me check and see if we can slip out from Fleet’s side. If we can make it to the street level, we can hide in one of the vans until the coast is clear.”
“No.” Bess’s voice was firm. “I’ll do that. You go on. Here.” She yanked the tail of her blouse from her jeans and pulled a bulky envelope from under it.
“I thought you looked awfully lumpy,” Nancy said. “What is it?”
“Cassettes of your dad’s and the judge’s voices. The dummies had everything marked plain as day.”