NANCY SCREAMED. She jumped out of the chisel’s deadly path and felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from under her. She was plummeting through the gaping hole! It all happened in a flash. Almost before she realized she was falling, Nancy’s flailing arms had grabbed a beam and she jerked still. Gasping for breath, she clung to the beam. She didn’t dare look down. Below her, she knew, yawned the cavernous space of the subbasement. The only thing that would keep her from smashing to the stone floor below was her own strength—and already her muscles were shrieking with agony. As the panic subsided, she realized something was stabbing into her hand—probably a nail sticking out from the beam. Carefully Nancy moved her hand a fraction to the right. Better. Then, warily, she raised her eyes. She couldn’t hear her assailant anywhere. Was he—or she—lurking above her, waiting for her to drop? Waiting to kick her hands off the beam if she made a move? Nancy suddenly remembered something else.
