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)
Behind them, the sounds of pursuit intensified. Flashlight beams swept through the darkness. But Vivienne knew these passages in ways the Aldriches never could. Knowledge passed down through generations, mapped in her mind as clearly as if she’d built them herself.
“This way.” She guided Melissa through a junction that looked like solid wall until you knew where to press. The stone pivoted, revealing another corridor that climbed steadily upward.
Water dripped from the ceiling here, forming puddles on the uneven floor. The storm was intensifying above them, adding urgency to their escape. But at least this passage was rising, taking them away from the flooding chambers below.
Melissa stumbled, her strength fading. Vivienne caught her, taking more of her weight.
“How much further?”
“Not far. There’s a cave system ahead that connects to the surface.”
They pushed forward, Vivienne half-carrying Melissa now. Her own energy was draining fast. The psychic effort of maintaining her awareness, the physical exertion of the rescue, the accumulated stress of days spent investigating this case—it was all catching up to her.
But she couldn’t stop. Not when Melissa’s life depended on reaching safety. Not when Brooks was somewhere in these tunnels with Sullivan’s team, searching for them both.
The passage opened into a natural cavern. Rain poured through an opening ahead, and blessed fresh air replaced the stale underground atmosphere. Vivienne helped Melissa to a dry ledge and pulled out her grandmother’s compass.
“Stay here. This compass will guide anyone who comes looking for you to this exact spot. When Detective Harrington arrives, give him this.” She handed Melissa her satchel, containing the evidence she’d brought with her—Lily’s journal, the photographs, the documentation of the Aldrich smuggling operation. “Make sure it reaches Martha Morgan. She deserves to know what happened to her daughter.”
“What about you?” Melissa clutched the satchel. “You’re not staying?”
“I need to find Brooks. Make sure he and the rescue team don’t walk into a trap.” Vivienne managed a smile despite her exhaustion. “Don’t worry. I’ve survived worse than a few flooding tunnels.”
She turned back toward the darkness of the passage, water now rushing past her ankles with alarming speed. Behind her, Melissa called out something, but the words were lost beneath the roar of the storm and the rising tide.
Vivienne descended into the flooded corridor, following the pull of her abilities toward where she sensed Brooks. The water was waist-deep now, cold enough to steal her breath. The spirits pressed close around her—warning or encouragement, she couldn’t tell.
Then she heard it. Voices ahead. Male. Angry.
TEN
brooks
Brooks climbed the stone steps two at a time, cataloging evidence. The discovery below confirmed the Aldrich family ran smuggling operations. Melissa Clarkson was alive. He checked his watch. Nearly three thirty. Chief Sullivan would arrive with the forensic team soon, but each minute reduced their chances of a clean rescue.
The wooden door swung open. Outside, dark clouds hung low, moving in patterns that signaled a storm. The air smelled metallic. Wind whipped across the lighthouse grounds in gusts, bending the coastal vegetation to the ground. Waves crashed against the base of the cliffs, sending spray twenty feet high.
Vivienne’s weather prediction had proven accurate. Her local knowledge of coastal patterns beat the meteorological forecasts.
A police cruiser pulled into the parking area, followed by an unmarked van with the county forensics logo. Chief Sullivan got out, concern on his face as he scanned the darkening sky.
“Storm warning just came through. This isn’t tracking like anything they’ve seen before. The patterns are unusual.” Sullivan’s composure had cracked. “They’re tracking an unexpected low pressure system moving up the coast, but the satellite imagery shows formations they can’t explain.”
“Chief, we need to talk privately. We have an active situation.”
Sullivan read the urgency in Brooks’s posture. He gestured toward the cruiser. They took shelter inside as rain began to strike the windshield.
“What did you find?”
“Melissa Clarkson is alive. She’s being held in an underground chamber connected to the passage system beneath the lighthouse.”
Sullivan’s eyes widened. “You found her? Without a warrant?”
“The lighthouse is city property under historical society management. As law enforcement responding to a missing person case, we had reasonable cause to investigate. The Aldriches have been using the network to move contraband. Based on the infrastructure, they’ve operated this way for decades.”
“The Aldriches . . .” Sullivan’s tone went flat, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “You understand what you’re suggesting? Winston Aldrich isn’t just the mayor. His family founded this community. There can’t be any doubt.”
Brooks studied the chief’s reaction and heard the fear in his voice. Sullivan had spent his career in Westerly Cove, rising through ranks where Aldrich influence touched everything from budget approvals to promotions.
Earlier that morning, before exploring the lighthouse with Vivienne, Brooks had driven to Jack Thornton’s home. The old harbor master had information about the tunnel system that might prove useful.
The inside of Jack’s house resembled a maritime museum. Navigation charts covered every wall, dating back to the 1920s. Ship wheels, barometers, and brass instruments filled the shelves. The old harbor master had greeted Brooks with knowing eyes, as if he’d been expecting the visit.