It wasn’t quite a question, but Brooks answered. “Her information has led us to every significant break in this case. Yes, I trust her judgment. But I also trust Jack. The storm is moving in fast, and those lower chambers will flood. We need to extract both her and Clarkson before the tide comes in.”
“How long do we have?”
Brooks checked his watch against the tide tables Jack had provided. “An hour. Maybe less with the storm surge.”
Sullivan radioed for additional units while Brooks outlined what they’d discovered—the network below, the contraband chamber, Melissa’s location in a locked cell, and the observation point where Vivienne had positioned herself to watch the prisoner.
The chief nodded slowly. “Then let’s go get them both.”
They assembled a team of five—Brooks, Sullivan, officers Daniels and Greene, and a paramedic from the county rescue squad. Rain fell in sheets that reduced visibility to a few yards. Lightning cracked across the sky, each flash illuminating the lighthouse in white relief.
“Standard search and rescue protocols. We’re dealing with unstable conditions and potentially hostile subjects. Daniels, you’re bringing up the rear. Greene, you’re our communications link. Nobody goes off alone. Nobody plays hero. Understood?”
The team nodded, checking their equipment. Brooks secured his flashlight and the compass Jack had given him, along with rope and a waterproof radio.
They descended into the lighthouse basement. Moisture seeped through cracks in the foundation, pooling in low spots. The temperature had dropped, and their breath misted in the damp air.
Brooks led them to the concealed entrance in the basement, pushing aside the storage rack to reveal the stone door. It stood partially open, just as he and Vivienne had left it after their initial exploration.
“This entrance got sealed twenty-five years ago.” Sullivan examined the mechanism. “Someone’s been maintaining it.”
“The Aldriches. They’ve had unrestricted access to this lighthouse for decades.”
They entered in single file, Sullivan behind Brooks, followed by the rest of the team. Moisture trickled along the walls, and the sound of the storm echoed through the stone corridors.
At the first junction, Brooks consulted the compass and his memory of the route he and Vivienne had taken. “This way.”
They moved cautiously. Brooks noted signs of recent activity—fresh scuff marks on the floor, disturbed dust, a discarded cigarette butt that couldn’t be more than a day old.
The passage branched again. Brooks chose the right fork, following the path toward where he’d left Vivienne positioned near the observation grate. His concern for her safety grew. She’d been alone down here for over an hour now, watching a situation that could turn violent if the guard discovered her presence.
A sound ahead made the entire team freeze. Voices, echoing through the stone. Brooks signaled for silence, and they crept forward.
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 theceiling 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.”
