It was surreal, passing all my favorite spots, knowing that we were on the way to find Kyle.
Our assumption was that he had to be using the cabin and its bunker—as Lauren had called it—to access the inn. We might be incorrect in that assumption, but we had no other leads, and I wanted to take the fight out to Kyle, rather than sitting and waiting for it to come to me.
We passed the kitchen door, where I’d sat on the top step taking a break on sunny days, and then moved on into the trees. There went the greenhouse where Smulder tended to his tomatoes and green beans, the fountain, the bench where I had consoled a guest once.
The night sky was dark, the clouds boding a coming thunderstorm hovering overhead, and we were enveloped by the copse of trees at the rear of the inn’s grounds. Soon, the trickle of the creek became a rush, and the ground slanted downward toward the water.
It was strange witnessing everything in the green light provided by the night vision contact lessons.
“Not much further.” Gamma’s voice breathed in my ear. “Keep a low profile.”
Smulder, Gamma, and I both ducked down and whispered through the trees. Finally, we crossed over the creek, jumping where the banks were closest, and continued toward the cabin.
The small shed was wreathed in shadow, but we slowed my grandmother breathing instructions and directing us into position.
She withdrew her pistol from its holster, clicked off the safety and held it down at her side.
No movement. None inside the cabin nor around it.
Finally, Gamma opened the door, aiming her pistol inside. She entered the cabin and the stillness under the trees grew oppressive. I waited as patiently as I could for her to finish her inspection.
“Cabin is clear. You can enter.”
We did, closing the door behind us.
The cabin was outfitted with an empty bunk, a table and a three-legged stool. The rug on the floor was perfectly centered and dust-free, while the rest of the place looked as if it hadn’t been touched in over a month.
“Let’s see if Lauren’s husband was telling the truth,” I whispered.
“Brian, if you would?” Gamma gestured to the rug.
He pulled it back for us, revealing the faint outline of a square cut into the wood. It was barely visible, even though we were looking for it.
“He was right,” I whispered.
“Prepare for contact,” Gamma replied. “On my count, Brian.”
I removed my pistol from its holster and switched off the safety. I aimed it at the hatch, my arms and hands steady, my heart beating evenly for once.
“Three. Two.”
Come on. Come on.
“One.”
Smulder flipped the hatch open as quietly and quickly as he could, revealing a short set of stairs that disappeared into darkness below. A concrete floor, far underground, appeared, tinged green by my night vision contact lenses.
“I’m starting to think this place was an installation before it was a museum,” I breathed.
“Listen.” Gamma held up a hand.
I fell silent, pricking my ears for noise.
A soft shuffling came from below.
Gamma signaled for us to follow her and keep our weapons at the ready. She descended the steps, and I took a position right behind her, following her into the narrow space beneath the cabin in the woods.
A figure appeared on the floor ahead, curled up in the fetal position, restrained but alive.
Hannah’s short blonde hair was a mess, and she opened her eyes at the sound in the basement, trying desperately to find the source of the disturbance, though it was pitch black for her.
“Check where this room ends, Brian,” Gamma breathed, soft enough so the mic would pick it up. “See if there’s an exit that leads to the inn. Charlotte, check for hostiles.”
I made a sweep of the narrow room, searching for any evidence of my ex-husband, or Jordan Ames, but there was no one and nothing showing they had been here. Apart from Hannah, of course.
“Clear,” I said.
“No exits or entrances,” Smulder put in. “The room is a dead-end.”
Shoot! Then this isn’t how they’re getting in and out of the inn.
Frustration threatened, but I squashed it back down. We had found Hannah!
Gamma switched on a flashlight, drawing a muffled squeak from poor Hannah, and bent next to her. “It’s all right, dear, it’s Georgina.”
We made quick work of freeing Hannah and bringing her back up to the cabin. Hannah sat shaking on the bunk in the corner while Smulder brought out his phone to call 911. We had no choice but to report this. We’d leave Hannah here once we were done.
“What happened, Hannah?” Gamma asked.
“Jordan,” she croaked. “He attacked me. I though h-he was a ghost at first, but he attacked me. He came out of nowhere. Just—and then the next thing I knew I woke up down here. D-do you have any water?”
Gamma produced some from her utility belt and handed it to her. “There we are, dear, drink up. You’ll be all right. Brian is calling 911 for you, OK? He’s going to stay with you until they come.”
Hannah nodded, still pretty much in the dark about what was going on—both literally and figuratively. The only light came from my grandmother’s flashlight, and I doubted she was in any state to realize how we were dressed or the fact that we were secret agents.
Smulder would have to remove his Kevlar vest and act like he usually wore weirdly oversized black clothing at night. Maybe it would benefit him that the spy clothing didn’t fit him properly. It kind of looked like a pair of really ugly PJs on him.
“I’ve called 911,” he said. “The cops should be on their way down here now.”
“You’re
