Now, from the doors that were almost invisible in the corridor, she could hear noises. Women were screaming for help. The prisoners were trying to sound the alert. She could hear their voices, piercing, terrified, cutting the silence. They hammered on the walls. She heard the clanging of steel as they tapped the girder.

  "I’m down here! The prisoners are here!" May screamed again.

  "We’re here! Help us!" she heard around her. The women were flinging themselves against the doors. Suddenly, the underground corridor was filled with a maelstrom of noise, and it seemed that after the initial shock of the sound, it was driving him to new fury.

  He surged toward her again, and May leaped back, gasping as the knife ripped right through her jacket sleeve. As she raised the hammer again, he knocked it out of her hand.

  May did the only thing left to her. She turned and ran, pounding down the corridor, fleeing into the darkened depths of this prison.

  But his footsteps were behind, fast and heavy. She heard his breath, and dodged to the side, avoiding a knife slash that she saw only as a glint out of the corner of her eye.

  And then, with his other hand, he grabbed the back of her jacket, and she stumbled, thrown off her stride, trying to twist away.

  He clutched at her, pulled her back to him. She writhed away to avoid another attack from the blade, and he threw her down hard, uttering a cry of rage.

  The ground hit her, a painful thud, and May rolled away, desperately jerking out of reach of the knife and then kicking out hard at him, getting his ankle, but it did no more than push him off balance. Now, it was almost dark, the flashlight was dimming, the screaming surrounded them, and in this nightmarish scenario, May knew that there was nothing more she could do.

  He raised the knife, looming over her as she flailed to get up. And she realized it was too late now.

  He was going to bring that knife down again, and when he did, it would stab right into her.

  May raised her arms, fighting until the last moment, ready to defend herself as best she could, ready to twist away, to try and grab his hand or knock the knife aside with her elbows. Even though it felt futile and hopeless, she was not going to give up.

  But she saw his triumphant smile, a death's head grin in the gloom as the blade came slashing down, and she knew that this was the end.

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  “Don’t you dare! Don’t do it!” May yelled at him, using her voice as a weapon of last resort, the only possible distraction that could push him off course.

  And, to her astonishment, as the blade slashed down toward her, there was a dull, thudding noise, and her attacker staggered forward, jerking to the right. The blade went wide and clattered off the concrete wall, carving out a shower of dust.

  And then, something else clanged down behind him.

  It was the hammer.

  In an instant, May realized what had happened. Owen was here. Help had arrived, and not a moment too soon. Her deputy had picked up the first available weapon, as he'd rushed to save her, and had flung it at her attacker.

  It had derailed the deadly assault just in time.

  "I’m here! Come fight me!" Owen yelled from behind him, and with a curse, the knifeman swung around.

  That was all May needed. Nobody turned their back on her in a fight. Nobody. In his fury and distraction, he’d made a mistake, and she was going to make sure it cost him.

  She leaped up and grabbed hold of his knife arm from behind, twisting and tugging at the wrist with all her strength. He cursed, lashing back at her with a kick that connected with her ankle and nearly knocked her off her feet, but she hung on grimly, knowing the knife was the biggest threat, his killing weapon, and if she could disable it, then together, she and Owen could disable him.

  Owen leaped forward, kicking out at his knees. He got in a good shot, a hard, accurate blow, and with a yell, the knifeman staggered down, sprawling onto his side. Finally, with a twist that seemed to take every ounce of strength she had, May wrestled the knife from him.

  He wasn't done yet. He was cursing, struggling, punching, and kicking. May wrenched his arm back. Owen grabbed his other arm. The flashlight beam was weakening more, she realized with a clench of her stomach. The light had gotten even dimmer. She could barely see what she was doing, and avoiding his kicks in this near-darkness was more luck than skill.

  But Owen had the cuffs over one of his wrists, and grabbing on as tight as she could, May held the man’s arm back while he clipped the other closed.

  "Got him," he said triumphantly.

  Reaching down, May did her best with the attacker’s kicking feet. She couldn't cuff them, but she had a cable tie. Grabbing onto his ankles, she managed to loop it around, and pull it tight enough that his legs were firmly restrained.

  Now, the tables were turned.

  Now, he was the one who was imprisoned in his own underground bunker. And then, at that moment, the flashlight battery finally died, and the world went dark.

  Anxious cries erupted from behind the doors. The women were clearly worried that she’d lost the fight.

  "I'll go and find the lights," she gasped to Owen. She felt totally spent, exhausted, and mentally frazzled after that terrifying struggle. But, deep in her jacket pocket, her cellphone had survived the onslaught. She took it out with hands that were still shaking and found the flashlight app.

  Wanting to see her enemy clearly for the very first time, she shone it on the face of the doomsday psychopath, who cringed away from the light.

  He was heavy and strong. His beard was just as Chloe had described. There was a weird, shifting expression in his eyes that must have terrified his captives. His mouth was twisted, and his face was twitching. Undoubtedly, this man was deeply delusional.

  Now, it was time to free his victims.

  "It's okay," May called, hurrying down the concrete tunnel with the flashlight beam bobbing ahead. It would be better to find the light switches and turn the lights on first, she decided. Then, the women would be able to move more safely once they were let out of their underground prisons.

  She rushed all the way to the end of the corridor. There was the tunnel leading in. Now she was going to go to the right.

  And ahead of her she saw a doorway. A thick, steel door that was standing partway open.

  Inside, she saw a row of light switches.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, May snapped them on.

  This was the criminal's lair, where he had lived. It was neat and ordered. A folder lay open on the desk. Glancing at it, May saw that it was a dossier. There were printed pages crammed inside it about upcoming catastrophes, earthquakes, plagues, meteor strikes, anything ahead that threatened the earth.

  It had been gathered and carefully hoarded in this small room that felt cold and unfriendly.

  There were a few guns in a cabinet, and a collection of lethal looking knives on the wall.

  May shivered. She had the sense she'd gotten here just in time, that evil had played out, but far worse evil had awaited. If this man had carried on, she had no doubt at all that he would have escalated to killing.

  And now, it was time to open the doors and free the prisoners.

  ***

  An hour later, the sun was setting and the woods were swarming with frantic activity. Ambulances had arrived, cars had pulled up, parents and friends were on the scene. May watched as joyful, tearful reunions took place. The captive women were traumatized and malnourished, but otherwise they were in good health, and the paramedics had confirmed that none of the head wounds were serious.

  Even Hailey, the young student and part-time shop assistant who had been recently taken from Chestnut Hill, was in good health apart from a slight headache and being utterly shocked. May couldn't have felt gladder that all these women were safe at last.

  Sheriff Jack was briefing the team on what needed to be done for the search, instructing three deputies on how they were to move through the underground bunker and methodically collect proof. Even though the evidence against this man—whose name was Charles Gibb—was overwhelming, the case would still need to be processed according to the letter. There could be no doubt that this evil, dangerous man was a risk to society who needed to be locked away for life. A rock solid case would be essential.

  “Hey, May. I’m so glad you’re okay. And that they’re all safe. I’m so amazed you figured it all out.”

  Turning around, she saw it was Owen giving her a tentative, apologetic smile. She felt a surprising warmth surge in her heart. With all that had happened, the misunderstanding they’d had earlier seemed more trivial now. Perhaps it was something that could be fixed and forgotten, she thought with a flash of hope.

  “I’m glad too. It was touch and go. You saved the day, arriving when you did.”

  He gave her a clumsy hug, which made May feel surprisingly comforted.

  “You know what I’m thinking?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “When this is all wrapped up, I think we need to go for a beer.”

  “Great idea.” His face brightened.

  She was looking forward to that beer. Firstly, she wanted to discuss the cheating, and chew him out for having dared to believe she was capable of such a thing. And then, she was going to ask him what he’d written in that note. Perhaps he’d tell her. She really wanted to know what was in his heart.

  And then, she was going do her part and try to be a better communicator by telling him what was in her own heart. She’d level up with him about her sister. The news and the full story needed to be told, inconclusive and sad as it was. Perhaps it would do her good to spill it out, and she needed to get used to sharing it. After all, at some stage, her parents would also need to know the progress she and Kerry had made.

  As May stared around, still under paramedics’ instructions to stand still and rest, with a mug of tea in her hand, something caught her eye at the edge of the woods.

  A flash of camo fabric? May looked over curiously into the shadows.

  The second-in-command from New Blood was standing among the trees, watching the scene. He saw May looking, and he stared back at her. She was astonished to see that his gaze didn't hold the resentment she'd remembered seeing there before.

  In fact, he raised his hand in a small salute before turning away and disappearing into the trees.

  And then, just as she was getting over her surprise at that, May's phone rang.

  She saw it was Kerry calling.

  "Hey, sis!" she answered, feeling glad to be speaking to her sister at the successful conclusion of a case.

  But Kerry sounded rushed and flustered.

  "Sis, where are you? I'm boarding a plane now. I'm going to be at Fairshore in about an hour's time."

  "A plane? Why?"

  Kerry sighed. "Have you not read your messages? I want to be there for this. It’s all happening! See you just now! In an hour!"

  Kerry cut the call, and feeling excitement churning inside her, May checked the reams of texts and messages that had come through now that she was out of the bunker and had cell signal again.

  She needed to read no further than the first of Kerry’s messages to realize what this was about.

  "There's been a hit on the APB," the first text said.

  "We've found her!"

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  The small house where Harriet Downs had been traced to was in a poor, run-down area of Pineridge, a few miles from Fairshore. Side by side with Kerry, May approached, feeling her heart hammering in overtime. It was seven p.m. on a cold fall evening. But there were lights on inside the house, so someone was at home.

  This was where answers were going to be found.

  The hit on the APB, from a street camera, had clearly shown Harriet Downs passing by, before turning into the house. She'd been carrying a shopping bag and walking purposefully. May had felt shocked by the footage. Harriet had been going about her normal life, seemingly unaware.

  This was the woman who had sent the footage? Who had broken into May's house to leave the threatening video?

  "She disappeared too," May said as she and Kerry paced toward the house, walking carefully up the rough garden path that ran through the overgrown front yard.

  "She was a victim, like the others," Kerry agreed. “She was taken, herself. But maybe she helped him. Maybe that’s why he let her go.”

  She glanced behind her at the men following them. Two FBI agents were following Kerry here. This was, thanks to the evidence, now a suspected kidnapping case, as well as a possible serial killer case. Both were firmly in the FBI's jurisdiction, and their low voices and crackling radios reminded May that it had taken a massive network of resources to locate this woman, hidden away in the backstreet of this quiet little town.

  Kerry seemed to sense May's anxiety, and she reached her hand over to grip her wrist. "We'll get our answers," she promised.

  May nodded. She had no doubt about that. She was just worried about what those answers might mean.

  Reaching the door, May looked over at Kerry.

  "Ready?" she asked.

  "Ready," Kerry nodded.

  Reaching out, May rapped hard on the front door.

  There was no answer.

  May tried again. "Ms. Downs?" she called out. "Ms. Downs, we're with the FBI! We need you to come to the door."

  Still, there was no answer. Something felt wrong. May swallowed, feeling a twinge of fear. Then Kerry reached over and thumped the door. "FBI!" she announced. "Open up!"

  Again, there was no answer.

  "Maybe she's not here," Kerry said.

  May raised her eyebrows. "Maybe she's not?" she repeated. “But we have sufficient cause to enter and search.”

  Kerry shot her a determined look, and together, she and May reached for the door handle in unison.

  To May's surprise, it opened.

  May felt her throat closing up as they entered the house. A musty, stale smell hit her immediately, and she could feel apprehension rushing through her.

  She looked around feeling utterly shocked. The entire inside of this small house was papered with memorabilia. Newspaper articles and printed pages covered the walls, the paper old and yellowing. One of them, tacked to the wall near the door, caught May's eye, and she gasped.

  "Lauren Moore Reported Missing."

  Her sister! Her sister's newspaper article was up on this wall, forming part of a weird and creepy record of events that Harriet must have kept.

  Her eyes widened even more as she saw that even Harriet's own record of disappearance was taped up there.

  "Harriet Downs: Missing Woman Alert."

  Other things were on the walls too. A baseball cap. An old, pink t-shirt. A pair of socks.

  May felt cold inside. Her stomach churned.

  "This is like a museum," Kerry muttered, turning around from wall to wall, looking utterly shocked. "Like Memory Lane, set up as a tribute to this psycho."

  Or it was like a shrine, May thought with a shiver. She'd never, ever expected to find this.

  Without a doubt, Harriet had ended up being somehow aligned with the terrible man who had taken these girls. And for some reason, she'd been spared.

  But did she know where he was now? And where was Harriet herself?

  May walked through the house, her feet creaking over the dusty boards. Ahead, she saw a bedroom.

  She stopped dead as she walked in, her heart accelerating. There, in the bedroom, was the woman they wanted. She was lying on the bed, her arms behind her back, staring at a wall-mounted TV that was strangely silent. Only the flickering picture shifted the light in the gloomy room.

  She turned to them, and for a moment, May saw surprise and apprehension in her eyes.

  "Harriet Downs!" she said, stepping forward.

  The woman sat up. This was definitely the right person. She was the right age, the right face. And there was awareness in her eyes. But something strange about her too.

  The way she hadn't reacted when they had hammered on the door. That silent TV. The way her eyes focused on their lips.

  Nan Downes had said nothing about her daughter being deaf. And perhaps she hadn't been. But now, she was. Whether it had been illness or trauma or some other cause, May could see that Harriet now lived in a world of silence.

  "She's deaf," Kerry muttered. "She can't hear us. How did that happen?"

  Pulling out a paper pad from her purse, she scrawled the question.

  "The man who took you. Who filmed the video. Where is he?"

  For a moment, Harriet looked at the question, reading it, and May saw a sharp intelligence in those pale blue eyes, but also a calculating look, as if she was considering her options and how much she should say.

  Then she shrugged. She stared at May and Kerry. And she began to laugh.

  The sound was strangely toneless, and as it resounded through the house, May felt chills creep up and down her spine. This was all so bizarre. This was their only witness to these crimes—a sole survivor, now apparently deaf and refusing to speak or reveal any information. Living in a home that was a shrine to what he'd done.

  She felt like bursting into hysterical tears, thinking of Lauren, because this was all too much to take in, and suddenly the stress seemed to multiply. But Kerry was made of sterner stuff.

  "Bring her in," she told the agents, turning to him.

  "You're under arrest," she wrote on the notepad.

  And then, May took it from her, adding words below.

  "We will find out where he is. You will tell us. I will make sure of it."

  She stared at Harriet in challenge.

  The other woman’s eyes moved, nothing more than a quick left-right, and although she said nothing, May could see in her face that she knew.

  He was still alive. He might even still be in Minnesota.

  And now that they had Harriet in custody, May was sure that she and Kerry could do this. Perhaps Harriet could lead them to him.

 

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