Page 34

The service tunnels beneath the research facility were a maze of ice and darkness. Sheila's failing flashlight beam revealed sheets of frost coating the concrete walls, and frozen rivulets that had once been water seepage now formed crystalline patterns along the floor.

"The main maintenance tunnel runs east," Wells said, his voice echoing in the confined space. "We can follow it about half a mile to a junction point. From there, a service corridor leads to an access door on the mountainside."

"You sure about the route?"

"I've photographed every inch of this place." Wells moved carefully, favoring his injured side. "After my father died, I spent weeks down here. The isolation suited me. No people, no pretense. Just pure moments of natural decay."

They picked their way through the tunnel, boots crunching on patches of ice.

The temperature was well below freezing, their breath forming clouds that hung in the beam of Sheila's weakening flashlight.

She tried to conserve the batteries, using the light in short bursts, but the darkness between those moments was absolute.

"Watch your step," Wells warned. "There's a maintenance trench ahead—it'll be covered in ice, but I wouldn't trust it to hold our weight."

Sheila swept her light across the floor, revealing a narrow channel that had once carried drainage water. Now, it was a treacherous ribbon of ice. They edged along the wall to avoid it, hands trailing against the frozen concrete for balance.

A sound echoed from behind them—metal groaning against metal. A door opening somewhere in the facility above.

"Tommy," Sheila whispered. "He's down here somewhere."

Wells grunted. "Looking for us so he can 'finish the job,' as you put it?"

"Probably so."

"Well, his chances aren't great. It's all too easy to get lost in this place if you don't know it like I do."

They moved faster now, but the footing was treacherous. Patches of black ice threatened to send them sprawling with each step. The cold was already affecting Sheila's thinking, making her movements sluggish. Even through her winter gear, the chill seemed to seep into her bones.

"Keep talking," she said, partly to help them stay alert. "Tell me about the tunnels. How did you map them?"

"Methodically. Like everything else." Wells's voice was tight with cold. "Started at the main entrance, worked my way down. Photographed every junction, every maintenance access. My father would have appreciated the attention to detail if nothing else."

They reached an intersection where three tunnels converged. Wells pointed to the rightmost passage. "That one. It slopes upward slightly—less ice accumulation."

Sheila's flashlight flickered ominously. She switched it off to conserve what little battery remained, plunging them into darkness.

"Left hand on the wall," Wells instructed. "Count your steps. Thirty more to the junction chamber."

It was odd to Sheila how helpful Wells was being. Then again, perhaps he had given up all hope of escape. Perhaps he knew that even if he got out of here, the cold would kill him.

They moved blind through the frigid air, every sound amplified in the darkness. Sheila's world narrowed to the rough concrete under her fingers and the increasingly labored sound of their breathing.

"Here," Wells said finally. "The junction chamber. There should be an emergency kit mounted on the wall—might still have flares."

Sheila clicked the flashlight on briefly. The beam, now alarmingly dim, revealed a circular chamber with several tunnel entrances.

"Over here," Wells said, moving to a metal cabinet mounted on the wall. "Emergency supplies."

The cabinet's hinges shrieked in protest as he wrenched it open. Inside, they found a few ancient flares, a first aid kit, and what looked like a hand-drawn map of the tunnel system, its edges yellow with age.

Sheila's flashlight flickered again, threatening to die completely. Wells cracked one of the flares, bathing the chamber in harsh red light. The chemical heat felt almost warm against her frozen face.

"East tunnel," he said, gesturing with the flare. "Another quarter mile to the access door. If it's not frozen shut."

They moved as quickly as they dared, the flare casting wild shadows on the ice-covered walls. Every breath hurt now, the cold burning in Sheila's lungs. She had lost feeling in her toes despite her heavy boots.

"Almost there," Wells said through chattering teeth. "Around this bend."

The tunnel opened into another chamber, smaller than the last. Metal rungs led up one wall to what looked like a heavy access door in the ceiling. Their escape route—if they could open it.

Wells started up the rungs, moving with surprising agility for someone who'd seemed so affected by the cold. He reached the door and pushed. It didn't budge.

"Try using the flare as a wedge," Sheila suggested through chattering teeth.

He nodded, jamming the flare into the gap. The door groaned, then lifted slightly. Wells pushed harder, snow drifting through the widening crack.

"I can get through," he said, pulling himself up.

Sheila started climbing the rungs, but Wells was already through the opening. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Then, his lips widened in a cold, calculating smile.

"Don't—" Sheila said, but that was all she got out before the door slammed shut with a decisive clang.

Sheila was alone in the darkness. The flare had fallen, sputtering out in a patch of ice. Her flashlight was dead. She had no idea which tunnel led where, and the cold was becoming unbearable.

She leaned against the frozen wall, fighting down panic. Think. As long as she kept her wits about her—

Metal scraped above her. The door opened, spilling snowflakes and light into the chamber.

"Sheila!" Star's voice. Then Finn's face appeared in the opening.

They helped her up through the door. She emerged into swirling snow, emergency lights pulsing red and blue through the storm.

The wind whipped snow around them as Finn pulled her close, but even through the haze of exhaustion and cold, Mark's fate weighed on her.

"Mark," she said through chattering teeth, her voice rough with more than just the cold.

"We left him up there, injured. Tommy was with him, but now—" The implications struck her anew, horror spreading through her chest colder than any storm.

"He's safe," Finn assured her quickly. "First thing we did was send a team to the upper level.

Found him barely conscious but alive. Medevac's already got him out.

" He tightened his hold on her, understanding the burden of command—how leaving anyone behind, even to save yourself, carved permanent scars on the soul.

Sheila nodded gratefully. Then, as she continued to process everything that had happened, her mind turned back to the missing killer.

"Wells," she managed through chattering teeth. "He went this way—"

"Don't worry about Wells," Finn said. "We've got units on every access road—we knew you and he were unaccounted for, so we prepared for the possibility that he was on the run. His photo's already been distributed to local law enforcement. In this storm, he won't get far."

"How did you find me?"

"Star found old blueprints of the facility," Finn explained, wrapping an emergency blanket around her shoulders. "Showed all the access points. When Diana radioed you were down in the tunnels, Star figured out mapped out the closest exits. This was the most promising one."

Star hugged her from the other side. "I was so worried about you."

"Tommy?" Sheila asked, but Finn shook his head.

"No sign of him. He's gone."

Sheila nodded, too exhausted to feel anything but relief at being alive. They helped her toward a waiting ambulance, the storm erasing their footprints almost as quickly as they made them.

Somewhere out there, Tommy was running. But right now, surrounded by the two people she loved most, Sheila could only feel grateful to be home.

"Don't—" Sheila said, but that was all she got out before the door slammed shut with a decisive clang.

Alone in the darkness, Sheila slumped against the frozen wall. The flare sputtered out in a patch of ice, plunging her into complete blackness. Her flashlight was dead, her body trembling from cold and exhaustion.

After everything—the chase through the resort, finding Mark bleeding, Tommy's betrayal—this was how it would end? Freezing to death in a maintenance tunnel while Wells escaped?

Think. As long as she kept her wits about her—

Boots thundered overhead. Voices carried through the metal: "Sheriff's Department! Stop right there!"

More running. The sounds of a struggle, the distinctive thud of bodies hitting snow. Someone cried out in pain.

Then Deputy Neville's voice: "Got him! Wells is down!"

Sheila shouted as loud as she could, but the walls just threw the sound back at her. How would they ever hear her way down here, trapped beneath earth and snow?

But if they didn't, if they walked away now…

Metal scraped above her—the hatch opening. Light spilled down along with swirling snow.

"I found her!" Star's voice cracked with emotion. "Finn! She's here!"

Finn's face appeared in the opening, relief warring with fear. "Sheila? Are you able to climb up?"

She nodded, though in truth, she wasn't sure—her limbs felt about as flexible as rusted hinges. But she forced herself to start climbing one rung at a time. Near the top, Finn took hold of her arm and helped her the rest of the way.

She emerged into swirling snow, emergency lights pulsing red and blue through the storm. She collapsed into Finn's arms, and he wrapped her in emergency blankets, rubbing her arms to restore circulation.

"Tommy," she managed through chattering teeth. The betrayal still felt raw, impossible. "He's working for someone. Said I was getting too close. Left me to die down there."

Finn's arms tightened around her. She felt his whole body tense at the news. "Son of a bitch. I knew something was off about him."

"Do you know where he went?"

Finn shook his head grimly. "No sign of him. He's gone."

Sheila nodded, too exhausted to feel anything but relief at being alive. They helped her toward a waiting ambulance, the storm erasing their footprints almost as quickly as they made them.

"You mentioned your mom's case," Star began, sounding uneasy. "You mean the people who killed her—Tommy's working for them?"

Sheila was about to explain, but just then something else struck her. "Mark!" she exclaimed. Horror cut through her exhaustion as she remembered. "He was hurt bad. I left him up there with Tommy—"

"He's safe," Finn assured her quickly. "That was the first place we checked when we realized you were missing. Found him barely conscious but alive. Medevac got him out twenty minutes ago. The hospital called—he's in surgery, but they think he'll pull through."

Sheila sagged with relief. Star pressed closer, and Sheila could see tears freezing on the girl's cheeks.

"We were so scared," Star whispered. "When Tommy radioed that he'd lost you in the tunnels... But then we found these old maintenance blueprints in the resort office. I kept studying them, knowing you had to be down there somewhere. Finn organized search teams for every access point..."

"You found me," Sheila managed. Her whole body was shaking now, delayed shock setting in. "Both of you."

"Always will," Finn said softly. "We're a family, remember?"

Sheila hugged both Finn and Star tight. "Yes," she said through chattering teeth. "Yes, we are."

Somewhere out there, Tommy was running. But right now, surrounded by the two people she loved most, Sheila could only feel grateful to be home.