Page 96 of Shattered Sun

Can’t wait. Situation escalated. Look for hut at my location.

I shove my phone in my pocket, shift my attention to Ben, and school my features. Personal as this is, I need to switch into officer mode and think strategically. Dissociate from the situation and focus on my training.

Detached expression locked in place, I admit, “Or shit just got real and we need to hurry.”

Ben’s face twitches and twists, then smooths out. I let him process while I map out our next steps.

Squatting down beside Pepper, I speak to her in hushed tones. Praise her for leading us to the shack. Tell her the perpetrator is in the building and I need her help. Command her to stay at my side until instructed otherwise.

“Help!”

I bolt upright, every muscle in my body taut. My heart clutches my rib cage with frantic fists and rattles my insides.

Ben whips around and locks on to the shack. “You hear that?”

Cocking my head, my brows pinch together as I nod. “Yeah.” I step closer to the structure. “But it sounded muffled. Distant.”

“What does that mean?”

My brain filters through one scenario after another. Countless settings and events taught to us in the police academy. The only thing that stands out…

Never accept a crime scene to be only what youseewith your eyes. Like everything in life, crime scenes are multifaceted. Multisensory. Approach a crime scene with this mindset… it is more than what your eyes tell you it is.

If this shack is smaller than my bedroom, why did her scream sound farther away? Why did it sound smothered? If the perp gagged Kirsten, we wouldn’t be able to make out her cry as easily. Her words would be unintelligible garble.

Think, think, think.

And then a memory hits hard. Between freshman and sophomore year of high school, I’d gone to the kitchen to grab snacks and drinks for me and Jacob. He stayed in the basement, battling zombies and trying to beat my high score. Just before I left the kitchen, he yelled for me to grab the red licorice. I’d barely heard him, his voice muted by the house level.

She’s underground.

I face Ben, my shoulders stiff and muscles tight. “It means there is more to this dilapidated shack than meets the eye.” Swallowing, I force out the next words. “It means she is underground.”

“What the—”

“Ben, we don’t have time to get emotional. We need to get in there. Now.”

Ben tips his head back, inhales deeply, then levels his gaze and nods. “Tell me what to do.”

An on-the-fly plan spills from my lips. “We’ll circle the shack first, make sure there are no other surprises waiting in the wings. Once we have, we will enter quickly and quietly. Pepper will wait up here as we descend, in case the perp attempts escape.”

“Seems straightforward,” Ben says.

“True, but be prepared for anything. People like this aren’t rational. They do crazy shit when provoked.”

“Got it.”

We circle the rundown hut and find nothing out of the ordinary. When we meet at the door, I give Pepper her commands. Her spine straightens and she huffs a low affirmation bark.

I retrieve my sidearm, and then we creep through the door. Enter the ramshackle cabin with the flashlight set to low. Inspect every crack and crevice and corner of the small space.

To the left is a rusty cot with a yellow and brown stained mattress. To the right, a covered five-gallon bucket and laptop on a splintered makeshift table; no chair. But directly across the room from the door, that is what holds my attention.

Paint peeling off the inside, a metal hatch door stands open on the floor. A yellow triangle with a black exclamation point in the middle warns to watch your head and back.

Not a basement.A motherfucking bunker. And by the looks of it, this damn bunker has been here a long fucking time.

My gaze shoots to Ben and I press a finger to my lips, indicating to be quiet. He nods. Leaning into him, I whisper, “I’ll go down first.” I hand him the flashlight. “You hold on to this.” I pause and count to three. “Be prepared for anything.”

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