Whispers in the Dark

CHAPTER 21

SHEA led Nathan through the trees and into a particularly dense section of vegetation. She kicked aside a piece of camouflage netting to reveal the cap that sealed the tunnel entrance. Nathan handed her his rifle before squatting down to pry open the lid. He stared into the darkness for a moment before returning his gaze to Shea.

“I’m going first and then I’ll call up for you.”

He hopped over the side, his feet finding the rungs of the ladder and then he rapidly descended, his head disappearing from view.

A moment later he called softly up to her and she lowered his rifle. She tucked the pistol into her waistband and then went down into the tunnel after him.

When she reached the bottom rung, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lowered her to the concrete floor.

“Stay close,” he murmured.

The pathway was illuminated by dim running lights on the left and right. The air was stale and musty as if the tunnel hadn’t been used for some time. Her gaze was riveted to Nathan’s back and her foot collided with an object on the floor, pitching her forward.

She bumped into his back and he came up short, reaching a hand back to steady her.

“You okay?”

She frowned and looked down at the offending object to see it was a small, leather-bound book. She squatted to pick it up and leaned it toward the light.

Her pulse ratcheted up when she opened it to the first page. It was her mother’s handwriting. The shock of seeing the familiar script wrenched her heart. She rapidly flipped through the other pages and realized it was her mother’s journal. Shea hadn’t known she’d kept one.

Nathan bent down to look over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“My mother’s journal,” Shea replied. “I’m unsure of how it got here. I didn’t even know she kept one.”

How had it gotten here? Unease prickled up Shea’s spine. It seemed likely now that this was the way Grace had come just recently. Had she dropped it? Had she been pursued and caught? Had she left it for Shea to find?

She rose and shoved the small volume in the front waistband of her jeans so that it was crammed against her belly. Then she adjusted her grip on the pistol and nodded at Nathan. “Let’s go. I’ll look at it later.”

They continued down the long corridor until they reached the door leading into the panic room.

Nathan examined the key pad and then turned back to Shea. “Do you have the code?”

She stepped forward and punched in a series of numbers. “It’s 3272*4824. Just in case you need it and I’m not here to do it.”

He frowned at that statement, but it would be pretty damn stupid not to plan for the worst.

The lock snicked and Shea started to push the door open, but Nathan stuck his arm out and shoved her behind him. He entered the room, rifle up, his gaze rapidly scanning the interior.

He motioned for her in a quick, impatient gesture. Feeling like a complete fraud and not at all sure of this stealth mumbo jumbo, she raised her gun and followed Nathan in. She just hoped to hell no one jumped out at them, because she couldn’t be entirely sure what would happen.

She was a good shot. At the range. Which was entirely different from shooting at an actual person when under enormous stress. A paper target posed no threat. You could take all bloody day to aim. You could breathe normally. No stress. Just point and shoot.

Not so much here.

Everything was still online and working. There were video monitors mounted along one wall with a view of each room in the house as well as the front, back and side views of the exterior. What Shea saw made her gasp.

She walked forward, her gaze riveted to the sheer destruction evident on the monitors.

“My God,” she whispered.

Nathan studied the monitors with her, his gaze moving over each one as if searching for any threat.

The living room—all of the rooms—were a mess. Nothing had been left untouched or undamaged. The furniture was destroyed. Picture frames lay broken on the floor. Vases, artwork, dead plants, her mother’s beloved wildlife figurines and the glass curio cabinet where they’d been housed were all in pieces, scattered through the room.

The entire house had been ransacked. Not just ransacked, but completely and utterly destroyed as if the person responsible had been in a rage. Or they hadn’t found what they were looking for.

Was this what had happened after her parents had been murdered and Shea and Grace had fled? Or had this been done more recently? Had her parents been left to rot in the house or were their bodies disposed of to conceal the evidence of the crime committed?

“Jesus,” Nathan muttered. “Looks like a damn war zone.”

Shea froze when her gaze skittered across the monitor that had a view of the dining room. The carpet that had borne the bloodstains of her parents was gone. Someone had removed it. Why? But she still saw the pool of blood in her mind. Tears filled her eyes and she looked hastily away.

In her mind, an endless loop played and she saw her father valiantly trying to protect her mother. Heard the intruders demand to know where the girls were. She saw him gunned down when he refused to give them any information on his daughters’ whereabouts and then her mother throwing her body over her husband as she sobbed and pleaded for their lives.

She shut her eyes and viciously shoved the images from her head. She’d looked away then too, no longer able to bear to see what happened. Grace had called her a heartless bitch when Shea had dragged her toward the door and shoved her into the tunnel.

But she’d known there was nothing she and Grace could do and she’d made a vow that her parents wouldn’t sacrifice themselves for nothing. She’d keep Grace—and herself—safe. Her mom and dad wouldn’t die in vain.

Who had done this? They’d gone to great lengths to conceal the deaths, disposing of the bodies, removing the blood-soaked carpet. Yet they’d trashed the house and left it in shambles? It didn’t make sense, which was why she suspected that the house had been ransacked much more recently. Like when Grace had been here and had been frightened away by intruders.

When Nathan spoke, she jumped. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him move toward the door leading out of the panic room into the rest of the house.

“Same code?”

She nodded. Her heart jumped into overdrive and her hands shook so much that she wrapped both around the stock of the gun in an effort not to drop it.

The stock was slick and she took one hand away from it to wipe it down the leg of her jeans. Then she switched hands so she could rub the other one.

There had been no sign that anyone was in the house. No sign of Grace. Had the house been that way when Grace had arrived? Or had this been done by whoever had startled Grace?

Fear gripped her by the throat and threatened to choke her.

Where was Grace now? And was she okay? Why the hell wouldn’t she communicate with Shea? Or was she unable to?

That was what scared Shea the most. The thought of Grace hurt and unable to call for Shea was paralyzing.

“Let’s move. I don’t want to spend any more time here than necessary,” Nathan said when the lock released on the door.

She collected herself and moved into the hallway behind Nathan. Her gaze scanned each room, but what was she looking for? Everything was a complete and total mess. How would she even know if there was something missing?

Then she remembered the journal tucked into her jeans. She looked down and fingered the edge. She was convinced now that Grace must have dropped it. What Shea didn’t know was if it had been an accident or if Grace had intended for Shea to find it.

She forced her attention back to her surroundings. Nathan kept his head up as he crept from room to room. He toed through a few of the fallen items but quickly moved through the house.

When they reached the kitchen, Nathan glanced into the garage and then turned back to Shea. “Try to contact Grace again. Everything is quiet here. I don’t see any fresh blood, and it’s hard to tell if there was a struggle. Too big of a mess.”

Shea’s stomach dropped and she poured all of her energy into the effort to reach out to her sister.

Grace. Please, talk to me. I’m here at the house. Things are a mess here. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me where you are. I’ll come get you. I’m safe now. You can be too.

Only empty silence greeted her plea.

“She’s not there, damn it!”

Nathan touched her arm. “Don’t get worked up, Shea. You don’t know that anything has happened to her. I need you to stay calm and focused.”

She blew out her breath and battled tears of rage and frustration. How was she supposed to be calm and focused? She was standing in the place where her parents had been murdered. A place that her sister had come back to and from which she had now disappeared.

Glass exploded around them, sending slivers slicing over Shea’s neck and shoulders. Then she hit the floor as Nathan threw her down and covered her with his body.

“Cover your ears and close your eyes!” he yelled hoarsely.

She barely had time to close her eyes before a loud explosion registered and then splashes of color appeared in her vision even though her eyes were tightly shut. Her hands over her ears did little to buffer her from the concussion of sound.

Before she could collect herself, Nathan was dragging her toward the panic room. She stumbled as she got to her feet but promptly staggered. Her balance was off and her ears were ringing. Those damn patches of black still obscured her vision and no amount of blinking made them go away.

Behind her, more breaking glass and then the shattering of wood urged her forward.

The world spun so crazily around her that nausea rose sharply. Her head hurt. Her ears throbbed and she felt sick as a dog.

Finally Nathan hoisted her over his shoulder and ran the rest of the way toward the panic room. As soon as they were inside, he tossed her down, slammed the door and set the locks.

The gun. She’d dropped the damn gun.

She held her hands to her head and staggered upward, willing the room to stop spinning.

“What the hell was that?”

“Flash grenade. Can you see? I need your help here. Do you know anything about the surveillance system?”

She shook her head to rid herself of the residual effects. Nathan sounded like he was a mile away but at least her vision was slowly ridding itself of the spots. Her head hurt like a son of a bitch.

“What do you want to do? I know a little. Just what my dad showed me and Grace when he set everything up.”

Nathan pointed to the monitor that showed two men stealthily moving into the kitchen from the garage door. She gasped, her mind becoming sharper as she stared at the guns they held.

“I need to get this surveillance to my brothers. Do you have the passwords to the computer system? We have to be quick. I want to upload the footage of these jokers so we find out what we can about them.”

For a moment she blanked.

“Come on, Shea. Think. We have to get out of here. These aren’t your average baddies here. Your high-tech security system won’t withstand a grenade. They’ll just blow a hole in the damn wall.”

“It’s—it’s DLGSP.”

“That’s it?”

“No. No, just give me a second.”

“We don’t have a second, Shea. Give me the rest of it, damn it.”

She closed her eyes and replayed inputting the password. The first letter of each family member’s name in order of age. Then the number of members.

“It’s 4. The number 4 and then Peterson spelled back- ward. All uppercase. NOSRETEP. The entire password is DLGSP4NOSRETEP.”

Nathan typed in the letters and then entered a series of commands. He watched one of the monitors and zoomed in one of the men, who moved slowly down the hallway toward the panic room. He took a series of still shots and then captured a thirty-second video.

Shea surged forward. “Oh my God, Nathan. The cameras would have caught Grace when she was here! We’d know what happened to her!”

Nathan cursed and muttered under his breath as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “I’ll have to start the upload of that entire day and just hope it doesn’t get interrupted if they blow this place. We don’t have time to babysit it.”

“They’re coming down the hall,” she said urgently. She frowned and leaned forward as one of the men began attaching something to the wall. “What are they doing?”

“They’re preparing to blow their way in here.”

She glanced frantically around, cursing again that she’d dropped the gun when the flash grenade had gone off. She reached for the pistol tucked into Nathan’s back waistband, pulled it out and pointed it toward the wall.

“Come on, come on,” Nathan murmured as he hunched over the keyboard. He pounded a key and then reached for Shea. “Let’s go.”

He pushed her ahead of him and into the tunnel. After they’d gone just a few steps, another explosion rocked the pathway. The walls shuddered and she stumbled.

“Run!” Nathan urged.

They fled down the passageway. She hit the bottom rung of the ladder and started to scramble up, but Nathan grabbed her ankle.

“Get your gun up. I’ll cover you from behind. Don’t hesitate to shoot. I’ll be right behind you.”

She gripped the pistol tighter and then hauled herself up the rungs. At the top she only hesitated a moment before she leaped through the opening and rolled rapidly away, her gun up.

Seeing no one, she called down to Nathan, “All clear!” But he was already pulling himself over the edge.

“Get to the jeep. They won’t be far behind.”

She got up and ran.

When they got to where Nathan had parked the jeep, to her surprise, he directed her toward the driver’s seat. “How are you behind the wheel?”

“I can drive.”

“You’ll know the area better than I do. Get us the hell out of here and I’ll try to keep any heat off us.”

She jumped into the driver’s seat, still holding the pistol in her left hand. She keyed the ignition and roared onto the bumpy path leading back to the highway.

“Any particular destination?” she yelled.

“Just keep off the main roads and get us as far from here as possible. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

She spun gravel and dirt in a wide arc when she turned onto the highway. She pressed the accelerator to the floor and checked her rearview mirror for any sign they were being followed.

As they approached the driveway to her parents’ house, a black SUV shot forward to block the road. She slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left to avoid a collision.

She hit the ditch on the opposite side and nearly flipped. The jeep went up on two wheels and she wrestled for control. The jeep came down with enough force to jar her teeth and she rammed her foot to the floor once more.

Nathan jerked around in his seat, leaned out the window and fired off several rounds. Glass shattered in one of the SUV’s windows and a tire blew as the vehicle attempted to execute a turn around to pursue them.

“Nice shot,” Shea yelled.

“Keep driving. I’m sure they have more than one vehicle.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror to see yet another SUV barreling up on them. “Yeah. I’d say you’re right about that.”

She rounded a sharp corner and did a double take when a Suburban crossed the center lane, then veered into her lane before easing back over just enough to straddle the dotted line.

“I’ve always sucked at chicken.”

“Huh?” Nathan said without turning around. He squeezed off another set of rounds.

Shea gripped the pistol in one hand, leaned as far to the left as she could while still maintaining control of the jeep and began firing at the oncoming SUV.

That got Nathan’s attention. He jerked around just as the windshield exploded on the SUV and it veered wildly to the right after one of the front tires came apart, tossing pieces of rubber in all directions.

Shea passed on the left after yelling at Nathan to duck. Surprisingly, he didn’t offer a single argument. Once they were past, he rose cautiously back up and glanced over at her, a glimmer of a smile curving his lips.

“You’re such a badass. I like that about you.”

“They off our tail?”

“Yes, ma’am. All clear, at least for now. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She glanced sideways at him. “You got a plan?”

“Yeah. It’s time to call in reinforcements.”