Chapter 8 - Down the ChuteThe metal laundry chute was steep, dark, and lined with smooth, painted sheet metal designed to slide linens effortlessly down three stories to the basement.
“I’ll go first,” Natalie said, her voice resolute. “I’ll catch Emma at the bottom.”
Without waiting for argument, Natalie squeezed her legs into the opening and slid downward into the pitch blackness, her clothing hissing against the metal walls. Seconds later, a dull thud echoed from the bottom, followed by Natalie’s muffled voice calling up: “Clear! Send Emma down!”
Rachel kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Be brave, my baby. Just slide straight down and auntie Natalie will catch you.”
Emma nodded solemnly, clutching her stuffed rabbit. She slipped into the chute and vanished into the dark.
As Rachel prepared to follow, the linen room door gave way with a deafening splintering sound. The heavy oak frame cracked open, and the face of the massive security guard appeared in the gap.
“Got you!” the guard grunted, shoving the laundry hamper aside and reaching out a thick, meaty hand to grab Rachel’s ankle just as she threw herself into the chute.
Rachel screamed as fingers clamped around her heel. She kicked out wildly with her free foot, striking the guard square in the jaw. With a curse, his grip slipped, and Rachel plunged headfirst into the darkness of the metal tube.
She tumbled out the bottom opening seconds later, landing in a sprawling heap on a pile of industrial laundry bags in the sub-basement.
“Are you alright?” Natalie rushed over, hauling Rachel to her feet while holding a wide-eyed Emma.
“I’m—I’m okay,” Rachel gasped, rubbing her bruised ankle. “Where are we?”
“The old boiler room,” Natalie said, shining the flashlight beam of her phone across the damp stone walls. “From here, we can reach the underground maintenance tunnel that leads out to the estate’s secondary gatehouse. We can call the real police from there.”
Suddenly, the heavy iron door at the far end of the boiler room clicked open.
A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
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Stepping into the room, holding a heavy steel wrench, was Caleb.
“Well, well,” Caleb smiled darkly, his shadow stretching long and distorted across the stone wall. “Running away so soon? The party upstairs is just getting started.”
