Page 85 of Paging Dr. Hart
We wander through the hotel, turning this way and that, an uneasy truce between us. Rafe helps me, holding me steady as we clamber over a pile of old bed frames that someone has shoved together to make a wall-like barrier in one corridor.
I wrack my memories as we move along, trying to recall that terrifying sprint with Shelly. It’s been so long, but the experience was traumatizing enough to form an indelible mark on my mind. The route to the supply room comes back to me in bits and pieces.
Finally, I reach what I think is the right door, but the door frame is warped. The door is jammed shut. Rafe puts his shoulder against it and, muscles straining, gives a mighty shove. The door flies open, and we enter. It’s dark as night in the room. I use my flashlight to search around.
There it is.
In the ceiling is the faint outline of the square-shaped hatch. Just like I remembered. The room has been cleaned out since I last saw it. The cardboard boxes and supplies were taken away. It’s an empty shell now, completely bare inside.
“Up there,” I tell Rafe, pointing to the hatch with my light. “I think that’s where Shelly might have hidden the diamonds.”
He bends back, hands on his hips, and squints up at it. “How do we reach it?”
“Don’t know. When I was here before, we stood on some boxes, but they’re gone now.” I tap my foot, impatient. How long will it take to figure this out? How long until those explosives go off? The longer I stand here, the greater the sense of urgency I feel. A clock is ticking down in my head.
“I think I saw a chair out in the hallway. Hang on.” Rafe disappears for a minute and returns holding a plastic folding chair. He positions it directly under the opening and stands on it. Lifting his arms above his head, he stretches toward the hatch but can’t reach it. Growling in frustration, he gets down and drops his hands back to his side.
He gives me a pleading look, asking for help.
“Lift me up,” I command as I place my flashlight on the ground, angling it to light up the small room.
Rafe’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What?” The lines in his face are exaggerated from my flashlight. His shadow looms huge on the wall behind him, looking like an ogre brought to life.
Quickly, I move in front and stand with my back to him. I lift my arms up over my head. “Pick me up. Hopefully, I can reach the opening if you lift me high enough.”
Rafe places his hands under my arms. With a grunt, he lifts me high in front of him. It’s not enough.
“Put me on your shoulders.”
Raising me even higher, he sets me on his shoulders. He climbs back up on the chair. I wobble, avoiding falling only by grabbing onto his head. He hisses as I yank, pulling out strands of hair.
After a minute, we steady. I balance, sitting on his shoulders, and stretchmy arms out as far as I can. My fingertips graze the hatch and then I get purchase. I can fully touch it now. Bracing one hand on the ceiling, I push up against the wood door. It lifts easily, swinging away and falling into the attic space with a loud thump.
“A little higher.” Straining, I grasp the splintered wooden frame of the opening. He rises on his toes, and I pull myself up, using every upper body muscle I have. Rafe curses as my flailing foot kicks him in the head. Wiggling my legs, I slowly army crawl forward until I’m fully inside.
Rafe shouts from below, “Do you see it?” His hand is clasped on his forehead, rubbing the spot where my shoe connected with his skull.
I retrieve my phone from my pocket, relieved it didn’t fall out in my struggle. When I was here before with Shelly, we had been too scared to use our lights, so I’m not sure what to expect.
Shining the light around, I see that it’s a cramped space with low ceilings. Box-like metal air conditioning ductwork and snaking bundles of electrical wires take up the bulk of the area. A thick layer of dust lies over everything. The beam of my light illuminates delicate cobwebs, turning them silver and throwing their lacy shadows along the walls.
Far from the opening, tucked behind a stud, is a dirty plastic bag with a faded red K-Mart logo on the side. It’s out of place in the otherwise utilitarian space. Crouching, I carefully make my way over to it, trying to put my weight only on the wooden support beams and not on the thin layers of drywall between them. The last thing I need right now is to fall through the ceiling and break a leg. Not while that imaginary explosive timer ticks down in my head.
Balanced carefully on one of the beams, I hold my phone with one hand and use the other to open the plastic bag. The light reflects off the faceted glittering stones inside. I gasp at the sight.
It’s diamonds.
Lots and lots of diamonds.
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The diamonds sparkle and glimmer. They’re so beautiful that I want to push my hands into them. I want to bathe in them, to swim in them. Instead, I seal the bag, tying a knot on top.
When I faintly hear my name called, I assume it’s Rafe yelling from below. Seconds later, I realize that’s not Rafe’s voice. That sounds like…Ethan?
“Tiffany,” Ethan shouts, closer now, panic pushing his voice an octave higher.
“Ethan! Ethan! I’m here.” I scramble across the support beams, but I’m still far away from the opening when incoherent arguing erupts from the room beneath me. Muffled thumps and crashing noises follow. When I finally reach the edge of the hatch door, I’m shocked by the view below.
