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“Stand back,”Francesca said, and when Amber took a step back, she shot at the winch. Thebullets merely ricocheted from the metal or punched through the casing, doingnothing to stop it.
“Stop!” Ambersaid. “You’re not going to do anything that way.”
“Then how do westop it?” Francesca demanded.
Amber thoughtfrantically. She knew they needed to find a way to shut off the winch, but shedidn’t see a control panel or switch in the room. Her eyes roamed over themachinery, looking for any clues.
There didn’t seemto be an obvious power supply that they could cut off, and there was nothing assimple as an on/off switch that they could use. Had Steven Boon set up thiswhole thing so that, even if they got there in time, there would be no way tosave the victim? Did he only intend for them to be witnesses to his latestexecution?
No, Amber couldn’tbelieve that. It didn’t fit with what she knew of Boon. He’d worked as anengineer, and a part of what he’d designed was safety features.
Someone who didthat for so much of his life wouldn’t design something without a cutoff. Thiswas just another part of Boon’s puzzle, challenging them to find a way to stopthe winch in time.
Amber got underthe winch, the metal frame of the device towering above her. She started tosearch it. There was nothing there, no cunningly hidden switch, no obvioussafety device. Amber got up, going over to Boon and looking him in the eye.
“How do we stopthe winch?” Amber demanded.
Boon shook hishead. “You can’t.”
“I don’t believeyou. We beat your puzzle. There has to be a way to stop it.”
“Maybe I justwanted you here as a witness.”
Amber didn’tbelieve that. The game was genuine, and that meant that there had to be someway to free the victim.
A witness. Boonwas here as a witness to the death. He’d stayed to watch it. If there was a wayto stop the winch… maybe he had it.
Amber movedforward, starting to search him, going through his pockets. She came out with asmall, almost flat box with a single covered button on it. Amber took it outand held it up.
“I have it!”
She pressed thebutton, hoping that it was indeed the shutdown switch. There was no time tohesitate. As her finger jabbed down into it, she heard a definite click.
Amber heard agrinding mechanical sound and for a moment she thought that this might all be atrick, a way for Steven Boon to take revenge on anyone who caught him and thatthe winch might tighten.
Instead, though,it ground to a halt, the cable going slack. It meant that Amber and Francescacould haul on the metal cable, ignoring the pain of the metal as it cut intotheir hands. That let Simon gently lower the victim to the floor of theworkshop.
Simon pulled herdown into his arms, and Francesca quickly pulled the metal cable from aroundher neck. The victim gasped for air, tears streaming down her face.
“Thank you,” shewhispered, clinging to Simon.
Amber looked over atthe others. They’d done it. They’d caught the killer. They’d saved his victim. Theadrenaline of that victory flooded through her.
Then as it fledfrom her, she felt her strength giving way. Her legs started to weaken, and shecollapsed.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
“I’m fine,” Ambersaid. “I’m completely fine.”
“I’ll be the judgeof that,” the doctor replied sternly, in a tone that didn’t allow for anyargument from her. The doctor was a woman in her mid-forties with short,graying hair and an austere demeanor. She examined Amber with a critical eye,checking her vitals and asking her a series of questions.
“Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Any blurredvision?”
Amber shook herhead.
