I straightened from my spot at the computer and headed for the far bookcase. The whole back wall was covered in shelves, but one was a little different—a project that my father had installed in the house. He was by no means paranoid, but he was cautious. He knew people wished my family harm. Or who would’ve loved to kidnap one of us for ransom. So, he did everything he could to keep his family safe.

I gave the side of the shelf a little tug. It swung out. I slipped inside the small room that led to another door. Next to it was a keypad. I punched in a six-digit code and heard the lock turn. Pulling the second door open, a light automatically flickered on. The bulbs that illuminated the staircase gave off low, ambient light. Just enough to see where you were going, but not enough that it would expose its location to someone in the office if the lights were off.

I made my way down the stairs to the small basement. There were a few cots, some camp chairs, and a wall of emergency supplies. Most of the food needed to be disposed of when I came back, but I’d replaced some of it. I had a decent stash of snacks and water. And there was a secondary landline that allowed for calls out if someone ever did break in.

It had been months since I’d been down here. But everything was still in its place. And there was plenty of room for all the current residents of the farmhouse. In a few days or a week, when the kids had settled, I’d show them the safe room. Teach them to memorize the code. Show them how to use the phone.

Just having the plan helped somehow. It was another tool in my arsenal to keep them all safe. I shut off the light and climbed back up, emerging into my office.

I settled behind the computer, opening an internet browser this time. I hated when people searched for things about my life on the internet. It wasn’t that I wanted to be asked about it either, but there was something about the anonymous action that felt like a violation. Yet that was exactly what I was about to do to Caelyn.

There were things I needed to know so I could be prepared for all the possibilities she might be facing, though. Details I didn’t want to force her to go through again. So, I typed in her father’s name: Sean O’Connor. A laundry list of hits appeared on my screen.

Some results had nothing to do with Anchor and Caelyn. But far more did. I clicked on an article from a Seattle newspaper. The trials had taken place there. The cases a little too big-time for our small chain of islands.