Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
They reached the widened section where the observation grate stood. Brooks knelt beside it, angling his flashlight to the now gaping hole in the ground. The chamber below was empty. No guard. No Melissa Clarkson. No sign of Vivienne. Just a chair directly beneath the missing grate.
“They’re gone,” Brooks’s voice was eerily calm.
Sullivan crouched beside him. “Where would they take her?”
“I don’t know that anyone did. I think Vivienne saved her or at least tried.” Brooks stepped aside so Sullivan could assess.
“Why does she need to play hero?”
Brooks had the same question. Why couldn’t she stay there until he came back?
The sound of rushing currents echoed from deeper in the network. Brooks felt the chill rising through the stone beneath his knees.
Time was not their friend.
“We need to find the main chamber. If the guard evacuated, he’d likely use the primary exit toward the hidden cove.”
They backtracked to a junction Brooks remembered, taking the branch that should intercept the main system. The passage narrowed, forcing them to crawl through a section where the ceiling dipped low. By the time they emerged into a slightly wider area, moisture soaked through their clothes.
Faint voices reached them over the gurgle of rising currents—echoing from somewhere ahead. Brooks signaled Sullivan to move slowly. As they neared another junction, the voices became clearer.
“The level is rising too fast. We need to move her now.”
“The boat can’t approach the cove in this weather. And the main exit to the lighthouse is sealed.”
“Then we use the southern passage. It rises toward higher ground.”
Brooks peered around the corner. In dim emergency lighting, he could make out three figures—two men in rain gear and Melissa Clarkson, her hands still bound but now standing. The men gathered equipment, shoving items into waterproof bags while consulting a tablet that displayed what looked like a map.
Sullivan moved up beside Brooks, his service weapon drawn but held low. With hand signals, he indicated his plan—Brooks would create a distraction while Sullivan flanked the men from the opposite side of the junction.
Brooks nodded and reached into his pocket for his badge. Taking a breath, he stepped into view, badge held high.
“Police! Freeze!”
The men whirled toward him, eyes wide. The taller one reached for something inside his jacket, but Sullivan’s voice rang out from the other side of the chamber.
“Don’t even think about it. Hands where I can see them.”
The men froze. Brooks moved forward, maintaining focus on the suspect who’d reached for what might be a weapon.
“On your knees, hands behind your heads.”
The men complied slowly, exchanging glances. Sullivan emerged from the shadows, his weapon trained steadily on them.
“Melissa Clarkson?”
She nodded, exhaustion visible in every line of her face. “Yes. Thank God you found us.”
Brooks moved to remove the zip ties binding her wrists. “We’re going to get you out of here. Are you injured?”
“No. Just dehydrated and tired. They kept me blindfolded until yesterday.”
Sullivan moved behind the suspects, securing handcuffs on the first man. “Jacob Simmons. Maintenance worker for the historical society. And Tyler Aldrich, the mayor’s nephew. You boys are in serious trouble.”
The sound of rushing currents from the direction of the hidden cove grew louder.
“Chief, we need to evacuate now.” Brooks supported Melissa who looked unsteady on her feet. “The southern passage they mentioned—which way?”
The younger of the two men, Tyler Aldrich, glared. “Why should we help you?”
“Because you’ll drown alongside us if you don’t. The charges against you won’t include suicide.”
The maintenance worker broke first. “That passage. It leads upward toward the old cemetery. There’s an exit through the Morgan family crypt.”
Brooks felt a chill at the mention of the name. The crypt belonging to Lily Morgan’s family would become their escape route.
“Move.” Sullivan prodded the handcuffed men forward. “Brooks, you lead with Clarkson. I’ll bring up the rear with these two.”
They entered the passage, each step treacherous. The corridor sloped upward, providing hope they might stay ahead of the rising tide. Brooks kept Melissa close, supporting her when she stumbled.
“Where is Vivienne Hawthorne?”
“The woman who created the distraction? She came through the grate in the ceiling. Threw some kind of smoke bomb that disoriented the guard. Helped me. Then she said she needed to find you and disappeared. That was maybe fifteen minutes ago.”
Brooks’s concern intensified. Vivienne was somewhere in these passages, alone, trying to reach him. The southern route offered the safest evacuation, but she wouldn’t know that. She’d return to where they’d separated, expecting to find him there.
“Chief, Vivienne went to find me. She’ll be heading toward the observation point.”
“Then she’ll see it’s empty and follow our tracks here.” Sullivan’s voice strained from managing two unwilling prisoners.
But Brooks knew better. Vivienne wouldn’t just follow tracks—she’d sense where they’d gone. And that sensitivity that had proven so valuable might now lead her into greater peril if she attempted to reach them through the wrong passages.