Brooke didn't bother trying to run far inside the garage. She knew Logan would come hunting for her soon enough, and he'd turn the place upside-down. The only chance she had was to hope someone else came by quickly so she could get his attention. Surely someone else in this place would help her! They couldn't all be cruel, possessive bastards like Logan was. They were supposed to be rescue workers, dammit!
After a moment Logan came out and started to root around under the fire engine, trying to see if she was hiding amidst the tires. She was actually up against the left-hand wall, behind a tool box, where she had a clear view of the inside of the building from the shadows. After a moment Logan wandered slightly away, until finally he had his back to her.
She glanced around, wondering if this would be a good time to move. If he turned and saw her, she was finished, but he seemed intent on checking underneath everything loose in the garage that he could find. How he missed the tool box was a mystery, but she was sure he'd come to it eventually. Where could she hide?
Of course, she thought. Double back! Without another thought she dashed away along the wall, hardly daring to look over her shoulder for fear he might see her sudden motion. He didn't, though, and in a moment she found herself back in the foyer, the giant desk looming ahead of her. What better place to hide than where she came from before? He'd never think to look here until he tore the garage apart!
She scurried up the phone cord again, not even noticing the exertion this time. When she reached the top, she started looking around for a pencil or something else to use as a lever to move the phone. There seemed to be nothing available on the table, but she did hear a scratching coming from underneath her feet. After a moment a faint voice could be heard from within the desk. "Brooke, is that you?" came the urgent shout. "He locked me in the drawer! See if you can get me out!"
Brooke moved over to the edge of the tabletop and peered down at the solidly shut drawer. The faintest crack was visible there, and she thought she saw motion inside. "Why should I do that?" she asked, trying not to laugh at Abby's predicament.
"You need me to help you get the phone off the hook!" came the pathetic squeaking from inside the desk. "Besides, there's a pen in here! We can use it to pry the receiver up!"
"I heard you tell him to follow me," Brooke replied icily. "I should just let you rot in there."
"You would've done the same thing!" Abigail shouted indignantly. "Now come on, help me out of here before he comes back!"
"Oh, all right," Brooke answered with an exasperated sigh. Unfortunately, she knew she'd need Abby's help to get the receiver moving, after all. "What am I supposed to do, anyway? I can't very well just pull it open."
"There's a lip, see?" Abby called out, one tiny finger reaching up through the crack. "I can't get any leverage in here, but you should be able to. I think the drawer's on wheels, because I heard them rolling when he shut me inside. If we get it going, we should be able to slide it all the way open."
"All right, whatever," said Brooke, lowering herself around the edge of the desk. While it annoyed her that she had to help her rival, she could think of no other possible solution. Hiding in the building was a forlorn hope, and she knew Logan would find her eventually, even here on the desk. With some effort she managed to get herself into a position where her feet were perched on the handle and she could push off against the top edge of the wood, just above the drawer itself. Once it was open far enough, she figured she could get up top and use the lip as Abby suggested.
"Are you ready?" Abby's voice called from within. "I'm going to push as best I can when you do!"
"Yeah, ready here," Brooke replied.
"Then go, damn you!" Abigail shouted.
With that, both women began to strain their little muscles as best they could. After a moment the drawer shifted and slid slightly out, causing Brooke to grab hold of the lip to keep from falling to the floor. Inside, Abigail also lost her balance and fell with a thump on the wooden interior.
When both women recovered, they found the drawer was open perhaps a quarter inch or so, but no further. Abigail could look out easily, but couldn't fit her head through, much less the rest of her. They both tried pushing again, but the drawer wouldn't budge at all. "It must be stuck," muttered Abigail with some irritation. "You probably have to lift it up or something. Damn! So close!"
"Yeah, I used to have to jiggle my desk drawer to get it to move sometimes," agreed Brooke, again having to struggle not to laugh at the sight of Abby trapped like that.
"Well, I'm not giving up just yet!" Abigail hissed. She disappeared into the dark interior for a moment, and then started to grunt and groan as if trying to lift something heavy. A moment later, the tip of a pen appeared and forced its way through the gap. "Come on, Brooke, see if you can't help me use this to force the damn thing open!"
Abigail managed to shove the pen halfway out the opening, but try as they might, the two women couldn't get the drawer to slide any further no matter how much they pushed and pulled against the lever. Then Brooke had another idea. Without telling Abby what she intended, she pulled on the pen until it was vertical, then started lifting it out of the drawer, leaning it carefully sideways and holding it steady. Once it was out completely, she pushed it back so it fell with a loud clack on the desktop.
"What was that for?" demanded Abigail all of a sudden. "How the hell is that supposed to help us?"
"You'll see," Brooke replied with a smile, dragging the pen towards the telephone and away from the protesting voice coming out of the desk. Under her breath, she muttered, "I'm not sure how much of a help it'll be for you, but I'm sure it'll help me quite a bit."