Her face crumples. Sagging against the chain, she begins to sob. “I can’t believe you’re leaving us. Please don’t. Please!”

Reaching out, I set my hand on her shoulder and squeeze. “I’ll be back,” I say firmly. “I promise.”

As I turn my back on them and start toward the door, I pray it’s a promise I can keep.

CHAPTER 21

Their cries follow me through the door and into the corridor. Then I’m moving at a jog, heading toward the hatch from which I entered. I’m looking for daylight, anxious to get the hell out of this godforsaken tunnel and get those girls to safety.

The beam of my flashlight carves a murky path through the darkness. I’m kicking up dust, and in the periphery of my vision, it hovers like mist. I can hear myself breathing hard, a mix of adrenaline and physical exertion. I catch a glimpse of a small wooden door to my right, and I realize there’s yet another passage I overlooked on the way down. I have no idea how extensive these tunnels are; there could be many more passages and rooms. There could be more missing.

More bodies.

I keep moving as fast as I dare. I’m fifteen yards from the hatch. I’m running full out now, my mind jumping ahead to the things I need to do. I want to call Tomasetti and let him know three of the missing are alive. He’ll expedite the search warrant for the house and property. The body will need to be retrieved. The families notified. Arrest warrants issued for Irene and Perry Mast.

The blow comes out of nowhere, like a baseball bat slamming against my chest. The impact knocks me off my feet. For an instant, I’m suspended in space. Then my back slams against the ground. My head rocks back, sending a scatter of stars across my vision. At first, I think I’ve been shot. I can’t breathe. Terrible sounds grind from my throat as I try to suck oxygen into my lungs.

For what seems like an eternity, all I can focus on is breathing. I turn onto my side, manage a small gulp of oxygen. But pain zings all the way up to my collarbone. I’m aware of dim light above me. Dust motes are flying all around. I feel around for my .38, but it’s gone. I’ve dropped my flashlight, as well. But I can see. Where’s the light coming from?

My vision clears, and I find myself staring up at a bare bulb dangling down like some bizarre Christmas tree ornament. Turning, I look around. My flashlight lies on its side a few feet away. A man stands above me, his face obscured by shadows.

“Don’t get up, Chief Burkholder.”