She was sitting at the head of the bed by the radio, and a few minutes later she heard slight creaking noises directly overhead. She assumed that was Monty removing the ventilation grille, and silently wished him speedy, quiet success. The waiting and uncertainty was getting to her.
When they had approached the house, she had not known that they would be relying on finding a way to escape from it, and hadn't noticed the covered openings high up on each end of the ranch house. But she had noticed that feature on some older houses with pitched roofs in Montreal, so she was somewhat familiar with the concept. She just didn't know how they were constructed, how Monty could take one apart, and if the opening would be large enough if he succeeded in his plan. It was with trepidation that she awaited the ending of the faint sounds from above, which would signal that his demolition work was finished.
Mere moments after she heard the last little sound from above, she heard a terrifying sound from down the hall.
"Hey, cowboy, get your ass out here. I need you to show me which of these roads south would have the least traffic," Ranny hollered. "I'm untying the door handle, but I've got this gun trained on the door so don't try coming out doing something stupid."
Laura thought her heart would stop. How could she possibly get them out of this jam? Ranny was sure to explode when he found Monty gone, and Laura knew that Monty couldn't have gotten to the barn yet. She had to try to stall for time.
She went to the door, and said in a loud stage whisper, "He's fallen asleep."
"The hell he has," snarled Ranny, untying the door handle. He yanked the door open, sweeping the M-16 back and forth warily as he entered, thinking that Monty might be hiding behind the door waiting to attack him. When nothing like that happened, he stepped into the room and saw only Laura, cowering against the side wall, a look of terror on her face.
"Where the hell is he?" he demanded, crouching down to look under the bed, the gun always pointing in front of him. A glance showed him both windows still firmly nailed shut, the glass panes unbroken. Then he spotted the closet door ajar, and cautiously opened those doors, sweeping clothes aside with the barrel of the gun. He saw nothing. But something caused him to look up, and he saw the opening into the attic and knew immediately that half of his hostage quarry had escaped. He stepped back into the room, his face contorted with rage, and fired a burst of shots into the ceiling. Laura screamed and covered her ears against the noise.