Page 113 of Stolen Daughters (Detective Amanda Steele)

“Amanda, please, just leave it to the rest of us to find him.”

But she couldn’t just let it go. She returned her focus to the photo, following it around the edges, and she saw something. “Look.” She pointed and showed the photo to Malone. “The ceiling looks like packed dirt, and there are beams.” She met his gaze, and they both spoke at the same time.

“It’s a storm cellar.”

“Spread out,” Malone bellowed to anyone within hearing range. “We’re looking for a storm cellar! Our hostage may be in there.”

She started toward the house.

“Nuh-uh. I’m sticking right to your side.” Malone hustled to catch up with her.

She was dizzy and panting for breath, but she would push through for as long as she could.

She went to the west side of the house and traced around the building, shining the flashlight from her phone ahead of her. “There!”

Barely visible was a door practically buried in the grass, but there had been some recent foot traffic that had flattened some blades.

She bent over to open it and swooned.

“Let me get it,” Malone huffed out.

He threw the door open, and she shone her light into the hole. She couldn’t see anything from the entrance, and slowly proceeded down some wood steps. She reached the bottom and put her flashlight around the space. Wood-planked walls just like in the photo.

“Logan?” she called out hoarsely.

She heard mumbling and followed in its direction. It took her around a large shelving unit full of canned goods.

Logan was there, and he widened his eyes at the sight of her. Fear replaced by relief.

She hurried to him, pulled the gag from his mouth, and freed his wrists and ankles.

“What happened to you?” He pressed the pads of his thumbs to her cheeks and held them for her to see. They were black.

Soot. Of all the things for him to say first… “Never mind me. You okay?”

“I’ve been better.”

She put her arms around him and squeezed tight, but she was the first to pull away. Her chest felt heavy, but there was also something she wanted to do. “Logan Hunter, this is Scott Malone. He’s my sergeant and also a family friend.”

“Hey,” Logan said, “we spoke on the phone before.”

Malone glanced at her, and she shrank under his gaze. The time Logan had referred to was when he’d provided Amanda’s alibi.

“Nice to meet you,” Malone said. “Now, I don’t want to come across as an ass, but you both need medical attention.”

She and Malone helped Logan out of the bunker and summoned for a stretcher.

It wasn’t until he was loaded and on his way to the hospital that Malone turned to her. “Why am I still looking at you? Shouldn’t you be in an ambulance yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.” It took all her power to suppress another cough.

“Nope. You’re out of here.” Malone signaled to another paramedic to come over.

“Fine, I’ll go, but…” She was almost hesitant to ask her next question in case she’d fabricated all of it.

“But?” he prompted.

“Who was—” she coughed, no longer able to hold it back “—that woman?” If she was real—and not imagined, that is—Amanda needed to know her identity.