Chapter 4 - The Grandson I Didn't Recognize
Hearing Marcus call me Grandma from the top of those stairs nearly broke me.
It was the same voice that used to beg me for bedtime stories.
The same voice that cried when I took him to his mother's funeral.
But now that voice belonged to a man who had thrown me into a river.
"Come out," Marcus called.
I looked at Arthur.
He was staring toward the staircase.
"Marcus," he shouted, "put that gun away."
"Then bring her upstairs."
I held Daniel's letter against my chest.
The staircase was narrow.
Marcus couldn't see us from the top.
But we couldn't escape through it without passing him.
I remembered the maintenance tunnels my father once showed me.
There had been another exit.
I pointed toward the rear wall.
Arthur shook his head, confused.
I whispered, "Drainage passage."
He followed me.
Behind the steel desk stood an old wooden door.
Its hinges had swollen from decades of dampness.
I pulled.
Nothing.
Above us, Marcus began descending.
"Grandma, I'm trying to keep everybody alive."
I almost laughed.
He had the nerve to say that after leaving me to drown.
Arthur helped me pull the door.
It opened with a terrible scraping sound.
"Who's moving down there?" Marcus shouted.
A flashlight beam flashed along the cellar wall.
We slipped through the doorway.
The passage was barely wide enough for one person.
I went first.
Arthur followed.
Behind us, Marcus ran down the remaining stairs.
"Stop!"
A gunshot exploded.
Stone chips struck the wall near Arthur's shoulder.
I screamed.
"Marcus, don't!" Arthur shouted.
"Then stop running!"
We stumbled deeper into the passage.
The floor sloped downward.
Cold water covered our shoes.
I could hear Marcus struggling through the doorway behind us.
My lungs burned.
My injured shoulder throbbed.
Arthur was breathing heavily.
Then the passage divided.
I remembered my father leading Daniel and me through these tunnels during summer storms.
"Left," I whispered.
We turned.
The right passage continued toward the flood-control station.
The left led to an emergency exit above the bank.
At least, that was how I remembered it.
We pushed through hanging roots and reached a steel ladder.
A circular hatch hung above us.
Arthur climbed first.
He pressed against it.
The hatch moved.
Sunlight appeared.
He climbed out and reached for my hand.
I pulled myself through.
We emerged inside a small concrete shelter hidden behind trees.
Beyond it stood a narrow gravel road.
For the first time since falling into the river, I felt the possibility of escape.
Then I saw a woman standing beside a green utility truck.
She wore a dark ranger uniform.
Her hand moved toward the radio on her shoulder.
"Ma'am? Are you hurt?"
I almost collapsed from relief.
"Please help us."
She hurried toward me.
"My name is Naomi Brooks. I'm a county environmental officer."
I grabbed her arm.
"My grandson tried to murder me."
Naomi stared at my soaked clothes.
Then she looked at Arthur.
"Are you both injured?"
"Yes," Arthur answered. "And he's armed."
Her expression sharpened.
"Get behind my truck."
She spoke into her radio.
I heard her request emergency assistance.
Then I saw Marcus emerge from the trees.
He stopped when he noticed Naomi.
His gun was no longer visible.
"Grandma!"
His voice changed instantly.
Now he sounded terrified.
Concerned.
Almost loving.
"Oh, thank God. We've been looking everywhere."
Naomi stepped between us.
"Sir, stay where you are."
Marcus raised his hands.
"Officer, my grandmother fell from our boat. She's confused. We've been trying to find her."
I stared at him.
He was lying so easily.
As if rehearsing a story he'd prepared long before the trip.
"She has a history of memory problems," Marcus continued.
"That's a lie!" I screamed.
His eyes flickered toward me.
"Grandma, please. You're exhausted."
Naomi looked between us.
"Nobody moves until the sheriff arrives."
Marcus's expression hardened.
He glanced toward the woods.
Something in his face frightened me.
Then he smiled again.
"Of course."
Several minutes passed.
Naomi gave me a thermal blanket and a bottle of water.
I drank slowly while Arthur sat beside the truck.
Marcus remained near the roadside.
Every few seconds, he checked his watch.
I realized he wasn't waiting for the sheriff.
He was waiting for someone else.
I leaned toward Naomi.
"He's working with Victor Hale."
Her face changed.
"What did you say?"
"Victor Hale. Hale Industrial."
Naomi lowered her voice.
"My father investigated that company years ago."
I stared at her.
"What happened?"
"He disappeared while gathering evidence."
The forest seemed to go silent.
"What was your father's name?"
"Samuel Brooks."
I remembered him.
He'd been a young deputy sheriff when Daniel disappeared.
He had visited our house twice.
My father trusted him.
Then, a few months later, we heard that Samuel had left the county.
Naomi watched my expression.
"You knew him?"
"He was helping my brother."
She stared at me.
"Daniel Bellamy?"
I nodded.
Naomi's eyes filled with tears.
"My father kept a photograph of Daniel in his desk. He told my mother the Bellamy family deserved answers."
Before I could respond, tires crunched along the road.
A black SUV appeared.
It stopped behind Naomi's truck.
Two men stepped out.
One wore a dark suit.
The other carried a leather folder.
Marcus straightened.
"There they are."
Naomi reached for her radio.
The suited man smiled.
"Officer Brooks. I'm Deputy County Administrator Richard Hale."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Victor's son.
Richard looked directly at me.
"Mrs. Carter, we've been worried about you."
His smile never reached his eyes.
Naomi didn't move.
"I've requested sheriff's assistance."
Richard nodded pleasantly.
"No need. We'll take care of the family."
Marcus approached him.
They exchanged a glance.
Then Richard looked at Naomi's truck.
"Officer, your radio request has already been canceled."
Naomi frowned.
"By whom?"
Richard opened his leather folder.
"By my office."
And in that moment, I understood how far the Hale family's influence reached.
May you like
They hadn't merely controlled the river.
They controlled the people who were supposed to protect us.
