Then it registered.

She had been able to clear a small opening at the top of the archway and into the chamber beyond it.

Stunned, Sam stopped.

The opening was no bigger than a mail slot, but it signaled progress.

She extended her hand into it and felt a gentle current of air.

Fresh air? From the surface?

Encouraged, Sam resumed moving rocks with a quickened pace and a little less care. She worked until she heard it.

A small grating.

What’s that?

Without warning, the grating grew into a loud rumbling. The rocks began moving, flowing, leaving Sam with time to roll and fall to the side as they crashed, tumbled, and cascaded into her space.

The last stone settled, leaving the air still and silent.

Sam stared with tear-filled awe at the volume.

Now larger than when she began.

The archway was again sealed.

All of her work in vain.

Like Sisyphus.

Sam trudged to her bed, got into it, and sobbed.

I don’t want to die here! Oh God, please don’t let me die here!

CHAPTER 35

New York City to Waterbury, Vermont

McDade got a window seat with no one beside her for her flight from LaGuardia to Burlington.

It lasted just over an hour, enough time to lower her tray table, pull out her files, and resume studying Samantha Moore’s case. Rod Noble had prepared a summary for her detailing the work the Vermont State Police had done in the months since her disappearance, including obtaining key video footage and the VSP’s excellent forensic work.

Recent advances in DNA technology and analysis linked Moore’s case to the Hydra.

It got us here, closer to him.

With New England unfurling below her like a patchwork quilt, McDade was determined to build on the break and exploit the solvability factors.

We’ve got to adhere to standard cold-case procedure, do the grunt work.

Dozens of FBI agents from across Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont, along with additional VSP investigators and local deputies, were joining the case. Although the joint-forces effort was just getting under way, McDade was relieved that, so far, no interagency rivalry had emerged.

Rereading the original statements and interviews Noble and his team had collected early in Moore’s disappearance gave McDade pause.

Maybe it’s a gut feeling, but something about the two people who gave Kevin Tatum a ride from the station doesn’t sit right.

McDade made note of it when someone touched her shoulder.

“We’re starting our descent into Burlington,” the attendant said. “The captain’s asked for trays to be raised.”

***

McDade was met at the airport by Greg Rayner, a resident agent from Burlington.

“Rod Noble’s set up a meeting at VSP headquarters in Waterbury,” Rayner said as McDade dropped her bags in the back of his SUV. “It’s not far, about thirty minutes.”