Page 17 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“I don’t know what to do.” Wendy leaned into his embrace. “I’m terrified of making the wrong decision, but I’m also afraid of doing nothing.”

The laptop dinged with a notification, interrupting her words, and the four of them stared at the screen as if it might explode.

“Oh god,” Wendy whispered. “It’s from him.”

When no one moved to open the email, Bel swallowed her dread and clicked the message, her stomach clenching at the text.

Wendy Darling,

In case you weren’t convinced of my seriousness, I’m sending this as a reminder of what happens when you don’t listen.

You were too afraid to click my little gift. What a waste of a surprise, but grownups always ruin the fun. Don’t ignore me again. It’ll only make things worse for Michael.

Tick Tock, Wendy.

Tick Tock.

For a moment that lasted an eternity, the group stared at the email. No one moved. No one spoke. They barely breathed. Whatever waited for them inside that clock icon would undoubtedly destroy Wendy Darling’s life. Witnessing it might destroy all their lives.

And with that terror eating at her gut, Bel clicked it.

A livestream filled the screen. The image was dark, but Bel could make out concrete and pipes in the footage’s corner. The location looked vaguely like a basement, and her hope surged anew. Did the mansion have a cellar? Had the boys been downstairs this entire time? She opened her mouth to ask, but the second her lips parted, fluorescent lights flickered on to illuminate the camera’s view.

“Michael?” Wendy screamed, and her fear froze Bel’s blood in her veins. She couldn’t feel her heart beating. She couldn’t feel her lungs expanding with air. Wendy had dissolved into hysterics, throwing herself at the screen as if she could rip apart the pixels and reach inside to her brother, but Bel’s body had gone numb at the paralyzing sight.

A rushing sound escaped the laptop’s speakers, and only when Bel saw what made that noise did she find the strength to break free of her terror.

“Where is that?” she asked. “Is it on the property?”

“Michael!” Wendy ignored her as she screamed at the screen. “Michael, oh my god. No, please no!” She collapsed in a heap on a chair, her grief and fear so devastating Bel felt as if she might choke on it. Henry moved to comfort his wife, but Bel got to her first, cutting off his advance.

“Wendy!” She practically shook the frantic woman to get her attention. “Where is that?”

“Get your hands off her!” Henry shouted, but Bel ignored him as she forced Wendy to meet her gaze.

“Michael needs you.” She tried to keep her voice calm, but she failed miserably. “Your brother needs you, so where is that? Is it here? Is it on the estate?”

“I don’t know,” Wendy sobbed. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Does this house have a basement?”

“Yes, but that’s not it. I don’t recognize that.”

Bel cursed as she sat before the laptop. The camera’s angle offered little explanation of the bunker save for the prominent horror The Tinker intended them to watch. Michael, the youngest Darling child, stood chained to the wall as pipes pumped water into the room. The flood was slow, the concrete barely damp, but the intent was clear. The Tinker was punishing them for defying his rules, forcing them to witness the next act in his depraved game. At the rate the water was leaking, Michael had hours before the situation turned deadly, but Bel knew the timeline wasn’t for their benefit. It was for their fear. The Tinker wanted Michael to understand what was coming. He wanted Wendy to pay for escaping his death trap.

The laptop dinged with another email, and Wendy lunged for it, practically climbing into Bel’s lap to see the message.

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Call the police

And I’ll speed up the clock.

Bel looked up at Eamon and recognized the same soul-crushing dread coiling in her stomach playing out across his face. They couldn’t call Griffin. Not now. Not after this. The water was flooding the bunker at a trickling pace. Michael had hours at this speed. Precious hours where Bel could employ every trick up their sleeves to find him. Hours they wouldn’t have if The Tinker increased the flow because she called her boss. She saw the pipes in the room’s corner. Their payload was minimal at the moment, but they were thick. The amount of water they would pump into the room if turned to full capacity was terrifying.

Bel grabbed Eamon and dragged him out of the kitchen. “Please,” she begged once they were out of earshot. “I can’t call Griffin. Not now. Not after…” she choked on her words. “You can do something, right? Can you track him?”

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