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“We do that for each other. These guys don’t know who they’re messing with by taking on the Bell women.”

“Right. So what should we do now?”

“Get the hell out of here.”

Traci’s expression showed her skepticism. “Great idea, Ray, but how are we supposed to do that when we’re tied up.”

“Believe it or not, zip ties can be broken. Remember the scene I wrote inThe Long Road to Murder?”

Recognition flashed in Traci’s eyes. “Yes. You researched how someone can break zip ties if they find themselves tied up. Does it work? Show me what to do.”

Not for the first time, Reagan was grateful to have a mother who read her books cover to cover. She scooted her chair, glad to have the dirt floor muffle the sound, and made sure she was at an angle for her mother to see her hands. Leaning forward as far as she could, she raised her arms straight out behind her. When her shoulders started protesting the awkward angle, she brought them down with as much force as she could muster. Her wrists struck the back of her chair, and she felt the ties give. She repeated the maneuver, striking at the weak point of the ties until they snapped. She presented her freed hands to her mother in triumph.

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. I think I can do it.”

Reagan went to work on the ties at her ankles while Traci mimicked her movements until her hands were freed. Slipping a fingernail under the bar in the tie’s locking mechanism, she was able to pull one tie free before repeating the maneuver on her other ankle. She moved on to Traci’s feet, an odd thought passing through her mind that she would treat herself to a manicure to repair the fingernail if they managed to escape.

“Do you think they heard us?” Traci asked her.

“I don’t know, but if they did, they would have likely come in here to check it out. What lies beyond the opening though is another story.”

“We can’t hesitate,” Traci said with conviction. “When we walk out of here, if we run into them, we rush them. Same as we would in an active shooter situation. We strike as a unit and go for the key defensive points. The eyes, nose, knees and throat. Like Randall taught us.”

Reagan recalled the many hours spent with her mother and stepfather in their backyard as he reviewed the finer points of self-defense. He drilled those techniques into them until they reacted out of instinct. He wanted their training to be second nature. Reagan never imagined using what she learned in this way, but she was grateful to her stepfather for taking their welfare so seriously.

“I’ll go first. Stay close.”

Traci shook her head. “I’m your mother. I’ll go first. No arguments. And Reagan? Whatever happens, remember I love you. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you, too, Mom, but we’ll have time to talk about this later, when we get out of here.” Reagan didn’t want to think of any other alternative, and she needed her mother to follow suit.

“Let’s do this. Are you ready?”

Reagan took a deep breath and released it. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They stepped through the opening to the bunker and continued down a dark tunnel. They didn’t cross paths with anyone, nor did they hear any voices. The tunnel wasn’t long, and when it dead ended at a steel door, they paused.

“This feels too easy,” Reagan whispered.

“But we can’t stay here,” Traci returned.

“How are we going to get through this door?”

Traci pushed against the door, and they heard the metal scrape against the stone as it shifted.

“It’s heavy, but I think it’ll open if we both push on it.”

Reagan nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it, but we need to be ready for whatever is on the other side.”

It took them four tries before they could budge the heavy door open and reveal another dark tunnel. A faint light shone ahead, and they hurried toward it. The closer they got, the brighter the light until they stepped into a room that caught them both by surprise. The light came from an ornate floor lamp providing the only illumination in the beautiful library. Shelves and shelves of books surrounded them, and Reagan gazed around with confusion bubbling within her like a geyser.

“Oh, my God!” Traci gasped, and Reagan followed her line of sight to notice they weren’t alone.

Across from them in high-back armchairs she’d only seen in high-end furniture stores. In one chair was her stepfather’s partner, the man who came for her at English’s bar along with a group of armed men. In the other was an older man with a shock of white hair made brighter in contrast to his thick-framed, black glasses. His hollow cheeks and tight lips were framed by a thin goatee. His suit was designer and fit in with the elaborate library.

“Mom?” Her mother’s reaction told her Traci knew the man sitting next to Terrence Johnson, but Reagan didn’t recognize him.

Before you mother could answer, the man spoke, and Reagan felt a chill snake down her spine.