went with the hostage recovery team. Led them right to the structure where I thought he was held.”
“But he wasn’t there?”
She shook her head blindly. The only thing she saw now was the scene replaying itself in her mind. “He was beneath it. We discovered a rabbit warren of tunnels under that shack. Connecting all the structures. The house.”
“Jesus.” There was comprehension in his tone. And something else, something that would have touched her if she’d identified it. But she heard neither. Nothing but the echoes of voices that haunted her memory.
“It was primitive. The tunnels were earthen packed, with an occasional kerosene lantern in the center of the walkway to light it. Cells were dug out along the way, fixed with rough wooden doors and padlocks. That’s where he’d keep them. It was in one of them that we found Tyler Temple.”
They’d sent her in, thinking the boy would respond best to a woman. And he had. When she’d given her name and told him they were taking him home, he’d launched himself at her and clung for all he was worth. Risa, don’t leave me! She hitched a shuddering breath at the memory of the boy’s voice. Each time she tried to hand him off to one of the other members, his wailing would get louder. It was easier, they’d thought, to leave him be.
“The radios didn’t work for shit down there. We had the boy so we turned around, headed out the way we’d come. We never would have gotten out otherwise. But as we started back, we realized that the team wasn’t all there. We’d started with four. There was only one detective and me left. So we thought we’d take our chances backtracking. But it was dark. The lanterns had gone out. And when I heard a sound behind me and looked, the remaining detective was gone, too. I didn’t know how yet. Not then.”
She could almost feel the dampness of the walls. Smell the rich moist aroma of earth. And something else. The stench of decay.
“I made my way through the tunnels as quickly as I could, my hand over the boy’s mouth.” Tyler had been sobbing, a soft, hopeless weeping. The walls had been close and claustrophobic. And with every step, they’d seemed to crowd in nearer. As if trying to crush them alive.
“I heard a sound in back of me and whirled. Saw that one of the lamps had been lit.” The torch had been dropped on the earthen floor to burn itself out. “Someone had dodged into one of the cells.” And she still held the boy. Had tried to put him down, peel him off her so she would have an unobstructed shot. He’d clung like a leech. He’d been screeching by then, shouting her name over and over.
Risa don’t leave me.
Risa don’t leave me.
“When the cell door opened again, Martin Volk stepped out holding a second child in front of him. Ryder Kremer. Held him like a human shield, with a butcher knife at his throat.”
“You don’t have to tell me the rest.”
She barely heard his quiet voice. Couldn’t have heeded it if she tried. The memory was as impossible to halt as lava flow. “I couldn’t get a good shot. The lighting . . . There were mostly just shadows. I thought about going for Volk’s knee. Shatter his kneecap and he might drop the knife. But it wouldn’t incapacitate him. He could still slice the boy.” The decision hadn’t taken more than a few seconds. But her hesitation had been enough. “I squeezed off a shot, but the boy was already falling. And the knife was hurling through the air. I shoved Tyler down, shot again . . .”
“You killed him. Martin Volk was dead, the article said.”
“So was Ryder Kremer. So were two detectives.” The other two had survived their attack, barely. “I never even knew he had another boy down there.”
“No one did, apparently.” Nate looked like he wanted to take a step toward her. Didn’t. His hands clenched involuntarily. “You can’t blame that on yourself. You all had the same intelligence.”
Feeling suddenly ancient, she leaned more heavily against the counter. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her. Because she should have known. The same way she’d known to zero in on Volk. The same way she’d known where to find him and Tyler Temple.
But the dreams, the damned dreams, hadn’t held a clue of Ryder Kremer.
“My hesitation probably cost him his life,” she