Rachelle McCalla - Survival Instinct

Scott climbed back into his kayak. “Let’s not let ourselves get too distracted from our mission here,” he reminded them. “We came down here to retrieve a body. Right now we still have no idea where that body went.”

Abby settled back into the seat of her kayak as well. “None of us saw a boat, and there’s too much wide-open lake for them to have gotten in and out without us spotting them.”

“It seems to me, after we saw the body floating here, somebody dragged it onto that ledge inside the sea cave. But where did they take it from there?” As Scott talked, he paddled back into the deep darkness of the sea cave. The place still made him nervous, but the slow pace of their search was starting to irk him. His mother was still missing, and now so was Trevor’s body. They were getting further behind instead of closer to their goal.

The women paddled up next to him as he shined his light on the still-visible smear of blood on the ledge.

“Someone pulled the body onto that ledge. But from there, where could they possibly have gone?”

“Perhaps they tied weights to him and sank him,” Abby suggested.

Scott looked back down into the depths of the water and could see nothing but bottomless darkness. “I suppose that’s possible.”

“Or,” Abby continued, “what about the back wall?” She shined her light back. “The ledge continues on for some distance.”

“Yes,” Tracie acknowledged, “but it gets narrower back there, not wider. And those walls are smooth. There’s not the slightest nook or cranny where you could hide a little guy, let alone someone the size of Trevor.”

Despite Tracie’s words of doubt, Scott wondered if Abby might be onto something. “Hold my kayak,” he requested, then scrambled up onto the ledge, taking care not to disturb the bloodstain. He carefully made his way along the stone shelf, his eyes searching, his mind replaying the moment when he’d spotted the ring in the pool, as though at any instant he might happen upon another important clue.

“Shine some more light over here, could you?” he requested, squatting down to inspect a spot near his feet. As Tracie angled her headlight his way, Scott nodded. “Blood. They must have carried the body this way.”

“They? Carried?” Tracie repeated. “Did I mention that Trevor was a big guy?”

Scott dismissed her doubts. The evidence before his eyes meant more to him than her words. He crept farther along, bracing himself against the wall until his hand touched something moist. He looked at his palm. “More blood.”

“The body must have rubbed against the wall of the cave,” Abby theorized as she floated her kayak toward him.

A moment later, Scott came to the end of the ledge. He felt a brief disappointment as he stared at the smooth back wall of the cave.

Then he realized it wasn’t entirely smooth.

A crack ran through the stone-a remarkably straight crack that didn’t look the same as the natural breaks and fissures he’d seen elsewhere in the rock. A smear of blood streaked the stone along part of the seam-a smear of blood in the shape of a handprint.

“Ladies, come look at this,” Scott requested.

Tracie paddled over with her camera and zoomed in on the spot, taking picture after picture. Abby climbed up beside him on the ledge and clutched his arm as she peered over his shoulder. Her warm presence helped ease the fear he’d been feeling.

“What is that?” Abby spoke in an awed whisper, her breath warming his ear.

Scott could see a slight indentation in the seam beneath the bloody handprint. He turned to Tracie. “Mind if I touch it?”

“I have my pictures.” She nodded. “Go ahead, but try not to disturb it any more than necessary.”

Scott fitted his fingers into the depression. As he probed the seam, the rock shifted, allowing him to slide his hand back into the rock. A section of stone eased away from the cliff wall, and Scott tugged on it a little more sharply. Then he heard the sound of rushing water.

“What’s that?” Abby asked.

They looked. Across the back of the cave, water shot like a high-powered waterfall from an opening in the rock. And then, as they watched, the entire back wall of the cave began to rise.

Abby clung to Scott’s arm in fear and amazement. The sound of rushing water and a distant ratcheting boom filled the small cave, making conversation impossible, even if Abby would have been able to think of something to say. She felt as though she’d stepped into a dream, as though reality had given way before her eyes just as the rear wall of the cave was disappearing.

Water sluiced through channels cut behind the rock, and thick, rusty chains clanged past them, their heavy counterweights obeying the course that appeared to be set in motion when Scott had tugged on the trigger mechanism. The whole thing seemed little more complicated than a garage door, though it was camouflaged with real rock and apparently constructed over a century before.

As the cave wall rose, Abby quickly realized the space behind it was illuminated from somewhere within. At the same moment, it occurred to her that the three of them had no idea what they were getting into. They’d clearly found the century-old pirates hideout. But just as clearly, someone else had found it long before them.

“Let’s get out of here,” she hissed into Scott’s ear.

His grip tightened on her arm, and he turned back toward her. “You’re right. We need to get backup.”

In the water, Tracie turned her kayak around.

But before any of them could go anywhere, a voice called out, “You can just stop right there.”

Abby looked toward the source of the voice. The wall continued to rise, revealing more of the space hidden under the island. Water filled half of a vast room larger than a full city block. The other half of the cavern was some sort of pier, where boxes and crates were stacked in rows extending back against the brownstone walls. Though several banks of lights hung from iron catwalks crisscrossing the ceiling, only the rear lights were turned on, their greenish glow illuminating a network of desks and computers. Even from a distance, they provided enough light for Abby to make out much of the interior of the cave.

A good-size yacht was docked along the pier that ran the length of the cavern. And beside it, closest to the cave opening, the Helene bobbed innocently in the water. Captain Sal stood on her deck with a gun in his hand.

“You three come easy and I won’t have to shoot,” he called.

Abby didn’t even consider trying to run for it. She stepped across the threshold with Scott as the ledge gave way to a wide-open platform and finally a pier made of metal and wood.

Six thugs approached them as they entered. Two pulled Tracie roughly from her kayak, and the others quickly bound their wrists behind their backs with lengths of fabric. Hands wrenched away their headlamps, radios and Tracie’s camera and sidearm.

The Coastie scowled at them.

“Careful now, boys,” Captain Sal cautioned. “We don’t want any marks on the bodies. No signs of violence, nothing to indicate foul play. These three are going to die in an unfortunate accident, just like Marilyn Adams.”

At the mention of his mother’s name, Abby felt Scott stiffen beside her. But before either of them had a chance to respond, they were pushed through the darkness down the pier. Abby looked all around her, trying to take in as many details as possible. If she ever got the chance, she wanted to be able to explain clearly what she’d seen in that unknown space.

Rough hands steered her and the others toward a large metal door. From the looks of it, Abby guessed it dated back all the way to the time of the pirates a century before, or possibly longer back than that. But the thick chains and padlocks on the outside were definitely newer and looked impenetrable. Two different men took out keys, unlocking the securely fastened door before shoving the three of them inside.