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)
“Passages flood at king tide. Always have. The Aldriches know the schedule better than anyone.” His weathered finger had traced handwritten annotations along the margins of a tidal chart. “See these dates? Every major smuggling run for fifty years. They time everything around the tides.”
Brooks had studied the notations—dates, times, and what looked like cargo manifests in Jack’s careful script.
“Three ways out if you know where to look. Main entrance at the lighthouse, the Hawthorne access near the cliff, and an emergency exit that comes up through the old storm drain system behind the harbor master’s office.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Edmund Hawthorne was the keeper when those passages got sealed. My father worked with him.” Jack had pulled an antique compass from a drawer, its brass surface worn smooth. “But nothing stays sealed in Westerly Cove. Saltwater finds a way through everything.”
He’d pressed the compass into Brooks’s hands. “Still points true. You’ll need it down there when the electric lights fail.”
“Anything else I should know?”
Jack’s expression had grown troubled. “She’s at risk,” was all he said.
The warning had settled in Brooks’s gut. That conversation had happened hours ago. Now, sitting in Sullivan’s cruiser with rain drumming on the roof and Vivienne alone in flooding tunnels, he understood exactly why Jack had been so direct.
“Chief, I understand the political complications. But we have evidence of ongoing criminal activity and a kidnapping victim in immediate peril. Your concerns about the Aldrich family’s influence are secondary to that.”
Sullivan’s jaw worked. Finally, he nodded. “You’re right. What do you need?”
“Vivienne Hawthorne stayed in the tunnels to monitor the situation and keep eyes on Melissa’s location.”
“Alone? Down there?” Sullivan’s disapproval was clear. “That was reckless.”
Brooks wanted to ask his chief if he had ever dealt with Vivienne because in the small amount of time he’d known her, he could confidently say, telling her no wasn’t an option.
“She has extensive knowledge of the system through her family history. The Hawthornes built the original passages. And she’s proven herself accurate throughout this investigation. Without her information, we wouldn’t have found the entrance or known about Melissa’s location.”
Sullivan studied him. “You trust her.”
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.