Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(87)

For long moments Hannah didn't breathe, but all she could hear was the howling wind outside the car and the thudding of her own panicked heart. If Ted hadn't spotted her, she might be safe. He'd have to search every vehicle on his lot if he wanted to find her and while he was searching, she'd take a clandestine hike down the access road in the dark and catch a ride back to town.

Cautiously, Hannah took a peek out the back window, but she didn't see Ted. Should she attempt to run for freedom now? Or was he out there somewhere, his eyes scanning the rows of junked cars, hoping that was what she'd do? If only she had a cell phone! Her former objections seemed petty compared to the advantages in a situation like hers! They ought to issue them like pillows on an overseas flight. Anyone who jumped on-board a murder investigation would get one.

Even though the suspense was killing her and her muscles were screaming for action, Hannah decided to wait and listen. Since the cars were parked on gravel, she'd hear Ted's footsteps long before he arrived at her hiding place. She hunkered down on the floorboards, barely daring to breathe, listening for Ted over the sound of the wind and the occasional far-away honk of a car on the highway.

Was Ted still out there looking for her? Or was this an exercise in futility? Perhaps he had realized that it would take hours to find her and given it up as a bad job. His first priority would be to avoid arrest. It was possible that he was miles away by now, fleeing Winnetka County and the State of Minnesota in the fastest car he had on his lot.

Hannah reached for the door handle, but she pulled her hand back before she touched it. It was smart to be cautious. She'd count to a thousand and if she hadn't heard anything by then, she'd inch open the door and make a run for it.

Counting in the dark, her face pressed to a dusty floor mat, was a trial of the patience Hannah didn't possess. She got to a hundred quite easily, and to two hundred with a bit more effort. Three hundred was a struggle and four hundred a real battle. Five hundred was iffy, but she made it. And six hundred was even iffier. Seven hundred was achieved through sheer force of will, the eight hundred mark bespoke endurance she'd only dreamed of in the past, and nine hundred was a milestone of both determination and fortitude. Hannah had reached nine hundred and thirty-two and she was beginning to think she'd make it all the way to the goal that had seemed so unreachable only minutes ago, when she heard a loud roar. And then something hit the Cadillac so hard, her whole body bounced up from the floorboards and smacked down again.

Hannah curled up in a ball, dizzy and disorientated. She didn't seem to be injured, but it had felt exactly as if another car had smacked into the Cadillac at highway speeds. When she recovered her equilibrium, she realized that something else was wrong. The Cadillac was rocking back and forth. When at least thirty seconds had passed and the rocking had failed to stop, Hannah risked a quick peek out the back window.

"Ohhh!" Hannah moaned, her mouth dropping open in total shock. The Cadillac was no longer sitting on terra firma!

Her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing. Hannah blinked but the ground was still dropping down below the Cadillac's tires. It took a moment for Hannah to make sense out of what was happening. The ground wasn't dropping; the Cadillac was rising. Ted was lifting it with the claw, a giant crane he used to move disabled cars and trucks.

Hannah glanced down again and wished she hadn't. The car was swaying sickeningly and the ground was receding fast. She shut her eyes and moaned softly in fear. She was terrified. It wasn't the height that frightened her. She could climb a ladder or an open staircase. She could even descend a fire escape, as she'd had to do in college. But when it came to swaying high in the air with nothing beneath her, she would much rather take a pass. It was the reason she'd never ridden in a hot air balloon, and why she'd refused to take Tracey on the Ferris wheel at the Winnetka County Fair last summer. Call it crazy, or phobic, or whatever, she really couldn't cope.

It was better if she didn't watch. The sight of the world swaying beneath her was enough to paralyze her mind. Hannah sank down with a groan and hugged the floorboards again. She had the sickening feeling that she knew what Ted was doing and it didn't bode well for her. Beatrice had told her about the new car crusher and how Ted used the crane to hoist the cars he wanted to crush and drop them inside. Beatrice had also mentioned that their efficient new piece of heavy machinery could reduce a luxury car into something approaching the size of a breadbox. Hannah wasn't sure exactly how big a breadbox was since no one had used them in years, but it was certainly smaller than she was and that brought up something she didn't really want to think about.

Cringing on the floorboards of the Cadillac wouldn't save her. Hannah took a deep breath and forced herself to look out the back window again. She was up really high, almost as high as the top of the trees, but she wouldn't think about that either. She took another deep breath and held it as she looked down at the ground.

Help had arrived! Mike was here in his squad car and he was talking to Ted!

Hannah stuck her head out the window and shouted, but her loudest yell was no match for the roar of the heavy machinery and the howling of the wind. The Cadillac was swaying right over Mike's head, but he didn't hear her. It was too far to jump, even if she were a daredevil, but there might be a way she could get Mike's attention.

Hannah scooted up between the front bucket seats. She grabbed the steering wheel and leaned on the horn. That should do it. But nothing happened and Hannah realized that there was no battery in the Cadillac. Ted must have removed it to sell it for parts before he scheduled this car for the crusher.