Page 21 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“Michael isn’t here,” Bel said.

“We should at least search the rocks before we give up,” Eamon said without conviction.

“He isn’t here. I know you feel the emptiness. This…” Bel ran her fingers through her hair as she cursed, her violent voice echoing mockingly off the stones. “This is all a game to Pann. One he doesn’t want us to win.” She started to pace, hoping the movement would help piece her jumbled thoughts together. “You have supernatural hearing. Can you hear running water? Is there a chance Michael’s here because this feels like a wild goose chase?”

Eamon paused, falling impossibly still, and then it was his turn to curse. “You’re right. There’s no life here besides us. No water either. This terrain is solid stone. What did he do? Blast through it and build a cellar? That would have undoubtedly garnered attention even if the family was absent.”

“The bunker isn’t here because he’s playing us.” Bel stepped into the field of jagged stones, but Eamon surged for her, taking the lead in case they triggered another explosion.

“What if there’s a device hidden here that Pann’s using to bounce the signal?” Bel continued, thinking out loud. “By the time we search the area and realize we’re hunting a rabbit trail, it’ll be too late. He wants Michael to die just like he wanted the IED to kill Wendy.” She whirled on Eamon so fast that he had to lean back to avoid crashing into her. “Think about it. He ordered her not to call the cops and then planted clues around the estate, the very home he assumes she knows well. He doesn’t intend for us to find the boys because he wants the Darlings dead. We’re on a witch hunt, searching for ghosts while he kills this family.” Bel turned on her heels again, her suddenly altered trajectory almost giving Eamon whiplash as he tried to keep up with her.

“So where’s Michael?” he asked as he chased her back to the car. “Did he lead us to the middle of nowhere to get us out of the way? To distract us? So far, his threats have been passive; direct consequences of his actions that allow him distance from their deaths. The flood will drown Michael. The IED’s pressureplate would’ve killed Wendy. Is he changing his M.O. and going after Wendy and Henry at the house while we’re too far to help them?”

“I don’t think so. Whether he’s comfortable killing with his own hands or not, he wants theatrics.” Bel buckled her seatbelt, but Eamon stared at her as the car idled, unsure where to aim. “Let me think.” Bel rubbed her face, her anxiety and slowly increasing hunger draining her internal battery to dangerous levels. “If this is a game, there must be rules. Even if he’s playing with us, even if this is an elaborate plan to kill the Darlings, he included instructions in his emails. But this?” She gestured to the stones. “This was information obtained through outside interference, not his directions. What if he designed this location as a red herring in the event Wendy disobeyed his orders and sought aid? That’s why it’s a dead end. He wants explosions and panic. He wants Wendy to believe she has a chance. If she hopes she can save her brothers, she’ll abide by his rules. He’s granting her just enough hope to force her to play along.”

“Say you’re right.” Eamon twisted in his seat to look her in the eyes. “What are the next clues? Where’s Michael? My contact found this dead end, but nothing in The Tinker’s emails or threats helps us. He kept repeating Tick Tock, but unless there’s a bunker behind one of the house’s clocks, I don’t see any hidden meanings.”

“Oh my god.” Bel froze, the obviousness suddenly washing over her. “Because there aren’t any hidden meanings. Most of his dialogue makes no sense, but the actual instructions he gave Wendy were extremely clear. Don’t call the cops, and you’ll find the boys at the second star on the right and straight toward morning.”

“But we followed that riddle, and it was a trap.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change his words. Listen to his exact phrasing.” She pulled out her phone and read from her notes.“‘Second star on the right. That’s where they are now.’Eamon.” She seized his hand and slammed it against the driveshaft, forcing him to shift the car into gear. “What’s the one place you can guarantee someone won’t look?”

He hit the gas so hard that their heads flew backward as he answered. “Somewhere they already searched.”

Bel shovedthe door open before the car stopped moving and jumped out, racing for the trees as the vehicle’s momentum propelled her forward, but she barely reached the pavement’s edge before the car skidded to a violent stop behind her.

“I don’t think so, Detective.” Eamon captured her waist and hoisted her into his arms before she could step a foot on the grass, curling her against his chest as he picked up his pace. “I don’t need you stepping on anything else today.”

“The riddle said straight toward morning.” Bel wrapped her arms around his neck as the trees raced by in a blur, the splintered bark still painted with Eamon’s blood in places. “I think The Tinker is telling us to head east.”

“Grab my phone and call Wendy,” Eamon said as he angled east. “We need to know how much time Michael has.” Bel shifted in his arms, which was no easy task at this speed, and dug her fingers into his pocket. She wiggled the phone free, not surprised in the least that her thumbprint unlocked his cell, and she located Wendy’s contact within seconds.

“Hello?” Wendy answered on the first ring.

“It’s Bel,” she shouted as Eamon twisted to shield her from an extended tree branch, the leaves slapping his neck instead of her face.

“It’s still filling up!” Wendy blurted. “I thought you found him. Why is it still flooding?”

“We’re close,” Bel said, praying that wasn’t a lie.

“It’s at his waist,” Wendy answered Bel’s question before she could ask. “You’re taking too long, and I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

Bel met Eamon’s gaze, his expression confirming his heightened hearing registered Wendy’s words.

“We’ll find him.” He leaned down to speak into the phone, his lips a breath away from Bel’s mouth, and she glared at him for guaranteeing the one thing you never promised the victim’s family. “I will find your brother,” he repeated, holding Bel’s gaze as if to convince her that his promise wasn’t empty, that he would fulfill his oath no matter the cost. “I swear?—”

Click.

The soft, telltale shifting of a pressure plate was all the warning they received, but Eamon was already moving. He launched himself forward, diving head first for the ground, and the world exploded. Bel screamed. Wendy screamed. The air erupted. The earth tore open at the seams, and then Eamon crashed to the dirt. He twisted as he fell, his shoulder absorbing the impact, and he contorted at an awkward angle to stop his incredible weight from crushing Bel. With the grace of a dancer,he rolled over onto his back, keeping her pinned safely against his chest as shrapnel and foliage rained down on them. The IED shattered the silence, threatening to destroy her hearing, but Eamon simply shifted her in his arms with one fluid motion so that she never so much as touched the grass. The second his feet hit the ground, he was running again, his speed faster than the death of the explosion’s echoes.

“Are you hurt?” Bel screamed as she clung to him, her fingers franticly examining his back for blood.

“Hang up the phone.” Eamon ignored her question, his voice cold as concentration consumed him. He didn’t want Wendy to hear what would happen next. Another IED meant they were on the right track. They would find Michael, but the question was, could they save him?

“Wendy, I have to go,” Bel shouted into the phone. “Remember?—”

“What was that? What’s happening?”

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