Love in a Nutshell - Janet Evanovich [68]
Floyd returned with the ladder, set it up, and climbed a couple of steps until he could reach the hatch at the top of the brewhouse. Once it was open, he scrambled back down.
“I’ve got it secured. Your turn now,” he said.
“Okay…”
Nan returned and handed her the flashlight. Kate jammed it into the back of her jeans, for lack of another secure location that would also keep her hands free.
“You’re a big, strong dog who can jump high,” she said to herself.
“What?” Nan asked.
“It works on my dog when she’s scared, so I thought I’d give it a try on me,” Kate said as she climbed the ladder. But the affirmation hadn’t helped. She peered into the darkness and then back at the assistant brewers. “So I just…”
“Climb in,” Nan said.
Kate took a deep breath and tried to maneuver her body down the hole. Coordination and grace were not going to be part of the equation. She slid through the hatch in the top of the brewhouse, dropping herself into the darkness.
Once there, she sat and assessed the situation. Except for the lingering, evil smell of hops, it could have been worse. Light shone in through the open hatch like a big, fat ray of hope, and the confines weren’t as tight as she’d thought they would be. She pulled the flashlight from the back of her jeans and switched it on. Nothing happened.
“Hey, the flashlight batteries are dead,” she called to Nan.
Nan’s face appeared in the hatchway. “I could look for more, but by the time I find them, you’ll be done.” She threw a roll of paper towels down to Kate, quickly followed by a spray bottle.
“Nan, Floyd, come on into my office. It’s time to meet with Matt,” Kate heard Bart saying.
Nan stuck her head in the hatch again. “Sounds like I have to take off.”
“Couldn’t you hang on a minute?” Kate asked. She liked knowing there was a lifeline outside her copper kettle.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re going to do great,” Nan said. “Be sure to pay attention to all the seams and outlets. That’s where the grunge sticks. Just throw the used paper towels out the top.”
“Okay,” Kate said. There was no answer. Nan had disappeared.
And the sooner Kate finished, the sooner she could stop being brave. She ripped a couple of paper towels off the roll and reached for the spray bottle. Taking a top-down approach, she began to wipe the tank’s interior and hum a little vintage Eric Carmen, which she knew courtesy of her parents’ ancient stereo. When she reached the chorus, she burst into full song.
“All by myyyyy-self…”
The tank’s hatch fell shut with a clang.
“Hey, I wasn’t even off-key,” she said.
And then reality hit her. She was trapped. Sweat popped out on her palms and, she was pretty sure, the soles of her feet.
“You’re a big, strong dog who can jump high,” she said.
Kate braced herself on the sides of the tank and pushed at the hatch. It didn’t give. She might be a big, strong dog, but she couldn’t sit alone in a metal coffin.
“Come on! Open the hatch!” she shouted.
The only answer was the rattle of the ladder being removed. And then water began flowing into the tank. It crept its way up her ankles and to her calves, and panic set in, big-time.
“Someone, anyone, come get me!”
Kate kicked at the side of the tank. She knew what was going to happen next. Wort was boiled. She was about to be boiled alive.
* * *
MATT PAUSED in his discussions with his brewing staff.
“Did you hear something?” he asked Bart.
“Just you being too damn stubborn about the winter ale recipe,” Bart said.
“No, from out there.”
Nan shook her head. “I don’t hear any—”
Matt raised his hand to silence her. A dull thud sounded again. “That!”
Matt shot from Bart’s office and back into the brewery. The ladder to the brewhouse lay on its side, the hatch was closed, and Kate was nowhere to be seen. He caught the sound of running water and a muffled shout.
Matt grabbed the ladder and was at the top hatch in an instant. Someone had locked the unit, and the only ones who could do that had been with him. He flung open the metal door.
Kate stood down in the darkness.