Page 74 of Guess Again
Rome, Wisconsin Monday, August 4, 2025
ETHAN AND MADDIE CLEARED THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE RANCH-STYLE cabin.
Maddie came out of the bedroom.
“Empty,” she said.
“Nothing here, either,”
Ethan said as he lowered his gun and looked around the kitchen.
On the table something caught his eye.
He walked over and reached for the package of cigarettes that rested there.
He held them up for Maddie to see.
“Saratoga 120s,”
Maddie said.
The off-market cigarettes Blake Cordis smoked when Ethan and Maddie first interviewed him.
“Should I make a call?”
Maddie said.
“Have someone pick up Blake Cordis?”
Ethan licked his lip and slowly gazed throughout the cabin.
“Hold off on that until we know what’s happening,” he said.
Ethan cocked his head.
“What’s that noise?”
They both stopped and listened.
“Is it music?”
Maddie asked.
The sound came from somewhere in the cabin.
Since they’d cleared the first floor, the only possible source was the basement.
Ethan lifted his chin to the door off the kitchen.
Maddie opened it.
A flight of stairs led down to a dark cellar.
Ethan walked over, squinted into the staircase and listened.
The music emanated from the darkness below.
The last time he was involved in madness like this was a decade ago, and he suddenly preferred the chaos of the ER to the thought of descending into the dark cellar of an abandoned lake home with no idea what waited for him.
Ethan was first down the stairs with Maddie following.
Ethan kept his arms locked with his Beretta pointed at the ground.
The farther they descended, the less ambient light from the kitchen followed, until they reached the basement landing and stood in total darkness.
Ethan listened.
The music was louder now, but still muffled.
He found a light switch on the wall and clicked it on.
Overhead bulbs blinked to life and brightened the space.
Across the basement was a door with a horizontal slat cut in the center of it like a mail chute. The noise was coming from beyond the door.
Ethan hurried over.
He and Maddie crouched into shooter’s stances as he tried the handle.
It was locked.
He slowly lifted the flap on the door slat and looked into the room.
He immediately recognized it as the room from the photo of Portia Vail, where the woman had been cuffed to a door while holding a newspaper. He saw a woman lying on a bed. The source of the music was the television that played from inside the room.
“Portia?”
he said through the slot.
The woman did not move.
“Portia Vail,”
he said again, louder this time.
“I’m Ethan Hall with the Department of Criminal Investigation, along with Detective Jacobson of the Milwaukee PD.
We’re here to help.”
He continued to look through the slat, but the woman did not move.
He put his shoulder into the door, but unlike the entrance to the cabin, this door was reinforced and sturdy.
There was no breaking through it.
They looked around and found a key hanging from a wall hook.
He grabbed it and inserted it into the lock. The dead bolt twisted, and the door swung open.
He and Maddie raced into the room.
Ethan kept the Beretta in front of him and made sure the room was empty, clearing the bathroom as Maddie ran to the woman on the bed.
“Portia?”
Maddie said.
Finally, miraculously, Portia Vail sat up and squinted at Maddie.
“Am I dreaming?”
the woman said.
“No.
You’re safe now.
I’m Detective Jacobson and this is Special Agent Hall.
We’re going to get you out of here.”
Portia Vail reached out her arms and Maddie embraced her in a hug as the woman sobbed.
Ethan’s phone rang.
He stuck his Beretta into his waistband and pulled his phone from his back pocket.
The caller ID told him it was Pete Kramer.
“Pete, we got her.
Portia Vail is alive.”
“Ethan, listen to me!”
Pete said.
“Francis Bernard escaped from the transport van that was taking him to Columbia.”
“Escaped?”
“Yeah, we’re just getting word now.”
“How?”
“We’re still getting updates, but it looks like the van was intercepted en route to Columbia by a stalled vehicle.
Both guards are dead.
One shot in the forehead, the other at close range with a shotgun.
The stalled car on the scene is a Ford Focus registered to Eugenia Morgan.”
“Damn it! Find her, Pete.”
“I’m at her house in Nekoosa now and about to go in.
I wanted you to hear about Francis from me, though, not on the news.”
“I’m close to Nekoosa, Pete.
Portia Vail was being held in an abandoned house in Rome.
I’m heading over to you now.”
“I’m going in, E.
I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Be careful.”
“See you in a while, partner.”