Page 8 of Wicked Promises
Ten minutes away.
I glance at him. “What did you mean, what if we actually find her?”
Eli chews his lower lip. “The detective seems to think you’re involved. Suddenly finding her…”
“It’s better thannotfinding her,” I argue. Consequences be damned. “Go.”
He nods and hits the gas. We fly toward the swath of no-man’s-land between Rose Hill and Stone Ridge. Rumor has it this area is haunted, but every story is different. Some say the owner of the bunkers was convinced the apocalypse was coming and locked people in. Others say we had a cult on our hands and it was mass suicide. Ghosts, buried bodies…
None of it is true, but the temperature seems to noticeably drop when Eli turns onto the gravel driveway.
Coincidence. The bunkers are in the distance, the roof of the barn just visible over the hill. There’s swampy, dark water on either side of the road. Feeble stalks of grass poke out, waving in the wind.
He stops the car just shy of the top of the hill. “What if they’re there?”
I laugh. “You’re asking me this now?”
“I mean, they could be armed.”
“That’s not stopping me.” I raise my eyebrow. “And your headlights give us away.”
“Shit.” He lets off the brake. “If we get shot, you owe me.”
We crest the hill.
Nothing.
Nothing visible in the darkness anyway. My car’s headlights only illuminate so much. The barn is the first thing, and beyond that, remnants of a fence and the first bunker beyond.
I shove all my emotions down. I can’t afford to be hopeful or nervous or… terrified. We’re going to be smart about this. Logic over emotions. I want to burst into the buildings, scream her name, get her back.
What are the chances this is a trap?
I find the folded knife he keeps in his glove box and flip it open. With the tip, I point to the white-walled bunker just behind the barn. “You check that bunker. I’ll take the barn.”
“You want to split up?”
I glare at him and hop out without answering. With a groan, he follows.
We split up. The barn is old. It creaks and rattles in the wind, like it’s protesting even still standing. There’s a chain on the huge sliding doors, a thick, rusty padlock hanging from the center.
I keep moving. If someone got her in here, there would be a sign. Knife in one hand, my phone in the other, I use its flashlight to search for any disturbance on the ground.
All the while keeping my ears open for Eli. His shout of success could come at any moment.
My heart races. It might burst before I find her.
I come to a smaller door. Without hesitation, I kick it in. The frame splinters with acrack, and the door bangs against the wall.
I step into what was once an office. There’s a desk in the corner, heavily tilted to one side. Thick dust covers everything. I creep through the door, into the main part of the barn. Thereare some stalls, but the rest is open. My attention goes to the hay stacked along one wall. The debris on the dirt floor.
And then…her.
My hopes soar. I rush to where she lies on the floor, curled on her side.
Her dark hair covers her face, and her hands are bound in front of her with duct tape. Her ankles are bound, too.
I fall to my knees in front of her and brush her hair back. Her eyes are closed, but she’s breathing. There’s a gash on her head. It’s not bleeding anymore, the trail of it down her temple and jaw tacky to the touch. It’s down her face and neck, soaked in her shirt collar.