Adam counted twenty steps by the time they reached level ground. They were deeper belowground than he would have expected. Thankfully, the ceiling here was tall enough for him to stand—barely.
He heard a dull noise farther in, as if something was being moved, and prayed the treasure would still be there when he and Shiloh finally found it. Or that at least the men responsible for trying to steal it from the Hamilton family, who Adam supposed it rightfully belonged to, would still be there for them to catch.
Moving around without light wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated it would be. The tunnel was narrow, and for the most part it worked fine to keep their arms out, touching the walls slightly, to make sure they weren’t missing any turnoffs they’d need to explore. Several times they’d found small rooms, no bigger than five or six square feet, off the main passageway. Neither of them could decide if they’d been originally built for storage or to allow someone to move to the side so people coming from the other direction could pass in the narrow tunnel. So far, that was all they’d discovered, though—no forks or other points in the tunnel that would have required them to make a decision.
“Uh-oh.” Shiloh’s whisper, though too soft for anyone elsewhere in the tunnel to hear, echoed slightly.
“What?”
He heard her arms moving around in front of him. “The tunnel is in a T shape here. There’s a wall in front of me, and I can go either left or right.”
Adam tried to mentally map where they’d been so far in relation to landmarks aboveground, like the house and the ocean. If they were where he thought they were, he was pretty sure right would take them even closer to the water’s edge. Left would go back toward the house, which was the more logical choice for hiding a treasure. Blackbeard would have wanted it close enough to the water to make it accessible, but far enough away that high tides and hurricane storm surges wouldn’t endanger it.
“Go left,” he whispered to Shiloh.
“Got it.” She turned and he followed.
They walked in silence, making several more turns that Adam prayed were correct. Until after one turn the muffled noises they’d been hearing grew significantly louder.
And then up ahead of them, he saw the circular yellow glow of a flashlight, its beam lighting up the dirt floor of the tunnel.
Adam’s breath caught in his throat, and he pulled Shiloh along with him as he backtracked, ducking into one of the side rooms they’d discovered only minutes before. This one was narrow, maybe eighteen inches wide and about ten feet deep. Adam remembered that because they’d turned this way, thinking it was a narrow side tunnel, before they’d realized it was just another room.
He shoved her in first. Even though she kept quiet, he could feel her protest in the way she resisted slightly before giving in and seeking shelter at the end of the room. He understood that she wanted to be the one in front and in control, but he’d already vowed to keep her safe. If that meant using his body to shield her from any bullets that might fly, that was what he would do.
But for both of their sakes, and the future he hoped they’d have together, he prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
EIGHTEEN
Shiloh listened to the approaching footsteps, afraid to breathe. Someone else was in the tunnel—she was sure now. She hadn’t let the copy of The Pilgrim’s Progress out of her sight, and no one would have stumbled upon the entrance in the bog by accident. Furthermore, she hadn’t noticed any signs of disturbance at the muddy entrance. Most likely there was another way in—which meant there would be an additional entrance that Adam and she might reach before they were discovered.
She decided to hope that was true. Shiloh felt her arms quiver, unsure if it was adrenaline or fear invading her veins. Five years in the making and this would all be over soon.
One way or another.
She gripped Adam’s arm and pulled him as close to her as possible. She rested her other hand on the handle of her Glock, the thought of possibly needing to kill a human being—which she’d never done before—chilling her to the core.
That apprehension was replaced by a burning fire once she reminded herself that these men had killed her cousin.
She listened to the man approach, the enormity of what she and Adam were tackling, just the two of them, overwhelming her as she kept her eyes glued to the floor so she could see the other man’s light as he got closer. She fought to swallow but it felt as if her throat was closing. She loved being a cop, but she didn’t know how to do this—capture several armed men who had managed to elude police for so many years. She wasn’t strong enough.
It became harder to breathe. Her shivers increased, and she identified in a detached way that her symptoms matched those of a panic attack. It was the same way she felt whenever she heard thunder. But there was no storm outside right now, she tried to tell herself.
Panic clawed at her throat as the night her cousin had been killed flashed in her mind unbidden. Annie had wanted Shiloh to come, too. She held back a sob, knowing that to make any noise at all would give away their position and cost them their lives. Annie had had a lead and a contact whom she’d planned to meet at a well-known cemetery in Savannah where they could talk without anyone overhearing. She’d asked Shiloh to come along; Annie had said she had a feeling it had to do with the historical aspect of the case. If Shiloh heard the information firsthand, she’d be better prepared to help Annie understand how it applied to the case.
Annie had come close to begging, but Shiloh had resisted. The weather forecast had called for storms, and Shiloh had always hated them and wanted to be safe inside, not out in the middle of a cemetery.
“Just take notes,” she’d told her cousin. “Tell me everything later, and I promise I’ll do the best I can to help you. But I just...can’t go with you.”
Annie knew of Shiloh’s fear of storms. Her cousin had looked straight into Shiloh’s eyes and must have seen the full depth of Shiloh’s terror in them, as thunder groaned and rumbled in the distance.
“Okay,” Annie had finally said, hugging Shiloh close to her. “I’ll go alone. But, Shiloh, when are you going to stop being afraid?”
The footsteps grew closer, jolting Shiloh back into the present that terrified her every bit as much as being sucked into the past.
Shiloh tightened her grip on Adam’s arm and fought to take a deep breath.
She should have died that night, along with her cousin. She would have died, but her ridiculous childlike fear of storms had saved her, had kept her alive.
She’d let fear paralyze her ever since.
Father, help me.... She struggled to pray, fought to win against the fear even as her hands shook even harder. She couldn’t do it....
But God could.
A sudden calm crept over her, and her breathing slowed to normal. Truth fought through the darkness in her mind as she recalled the past and amended what she knew to be true. Her fear hadn’t kept her alive. God had. All her fear, her attempts to carefully control her life to keep the fear in check...God didn’t need those.
He had everything under control.
Shiloh’s hands stopped shaking, and her muscles relaxed. Whatever happened, however this ended, was in God’s hands.
For several blissful moments, despite the approaching footsteps and the hints of light drawing closer, Shiloh felt peace.
Adam grabbed her hand and squeezed, seeming to know without her explaining all that had happened in her heart over the past few minutes. She squeezed back, smiling at him, though she knew he couldn’t see her.
Queasiness washed over Shiloh a second before the smell registered in her nose. The light was brighter now, and she focused on its proximity, willing herself not to be sick from whatever the new smell was.
Seconds passed, and as the light threatened to come close enough to give away their hiding spot, Shiloh identified
the smells in her mind.
Fish and peppermint.
Understanding hit, rocking Shiloh’s perceptions about this town. Harry? The fisherman she’d spent so much time talking to down at the dock? Him being here was too much of a coincidence. He had to be involved. The full implications of that made her nausea grow more intense as he drew even closer, and the light stopped.
Directly in front of their hiding place.
“I know you’re there, Shiloh. You’re too smart for me to have thought you wouldn’t find this when we did, if not before.” His raspy voice carried a hint of amusement.
She was hearing the voice of the man who’d killed her cousin. She moved slightly only to have Adam hold her back. She realized his thought as soon as he stopped her—Harry could be guessing, hoping to flush them out.
“I’m not bluffing, Shiloh. I’m trying to give you a chance to live.”
To prove his point he raised the flashlight beam, slowly exposing every square inch of their hiding place and revealing his own wicked grin at having them trapped.
“You can leave. Walk right out of here and forget this ever happened. That’s what my warnings to you were about.”
His warnings? Shiloh thought back on the attacks against her, struggling to make sense of his words.
“He wanted to kill you—” Harry spoke again “—but I knew you could be managed without having to add your death to our list of crimes. I’ve always kind of liked you, Shiloh. You’re spunky. Seemed a shame to kill you when we could just scare you into shutting up for good.”
Shiloh knew he was serious. He would really let her walk out of here, trusting in his ability to manipulate her fear to keep him from ending up behind bars. Her stomach heaved. Behind the bravado, the uniform and the gun...what kind of coward had she been?
“The warning on your car, convincing my partner to leave the door open to warn you and not hurt you when he searched your house...I was trying to tell you to back off. For your own good. He wanted you dead and almost succeeded in making that happen a couple times, but I kept trying to warn you to get off the case—just keep you quiet without having to kill you.” He smiled, as though he thought she’d appreciate the gesture.
She was supposed to believe he was on her side?
“I don’t want to kill you. I will if I have to, but I’d rather not.” He sighed as though her silence was too much for him to take. “So just leave and let me have the reward I’ve worked so hard for.”
Shiloh’s blood boiled in righteous indignation. Reward? He thought he deserved something, a prize, for the criminal acts he’d committed? For murdering the best friend she’d ever had?
“No.” She was startled at the boldness in her own voice even as she prayed her resistance wouldn’t cost Adam his life. “I’m not leaving. Not without you—and whoever else is down here—in handcuffs and ready to pay for your crimes.”
Harry drew a gun, a large revolver, from a holster that sat on his hip. She wanted to scoff at his choice of firearm, outdated as this particular gun was. Who did he think he was, a modern-day pirate?
“Get out here, then.” His voice had hardened. “I’m taking you to Slate for him to decide what to do with you.”
Slate? Shiloh frowned as more pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Her old mentor—the one she’d reached out to for advice on this very case. He’d had her completely fooled.
He was likely the source who’d told Annie he had information for her. Which meant they’d been wrong all these years. Annie’s death wasn’t because she hadn’t been observant enough. It was because she’d trusted Slate. And he’d used that to his advantage to kill her.
Shiloh wanted to weep.
“I said, get out.”
Harry had raised his voice, but Adam didn’t move and neither did she.
Harry cocked the hammer, and she knew he meant business. “Last chance,” he warned.
She nudged Adam, who walked out of the narrow room, still apparently mindful to keep himself between Harry and Shiloh. She appreciated the gesture, but she was going to have to get him to move so she could get off a shot. As the thought crossed her mind, she angled her body to keep the Glock hidden outside of the flashlight beam, but Harry’s eyes were too quick.
“Give me the gun.”
She did so without resistance. First, because she knew he would shoot them both if she didn’t—probably Adam first, given Harry’s weird belief that he was on Shiloh’s side—and second, because she had a backup in an ankle holster. It would be harder to reach, and she’d have to move almost quicker than possible to draw it and fire before Harry and Professor Slate could return fire, but it was better than nothing—if she could find an opportunity to put it to use.
“Now go.” Harry kept the gun trained on Adam and hit Shiloh with his elbow. “You first.” He motioned with the flashlight down the narrow tunnel. Shiloh did as he’d said and started walking.
Deeper into the darkness. Away from anyone who could help. Straight into almost certain death.
* * *
When Shiloh had handed over her weapon, Adam had felt his stomach sink. He had his boxing ability and his strength, but those were no match for men with guns.
They marched farther down the tunnel and stopped in a large central room that had several tunnels coming off of it.
In the corner was a pile of what could only be Blackbeard’s treasure. Some of it was gold coins, like the one he and Shiloh had found that day on the trail. The rest of it appeared to be navigational tools. It was something out of a history book—he never would have believed it if he hadn’t stared at it with his own eyes.
“Finally arrived, have you?” A tall figure rose from where he’d been kneeling in front of the treasure, dusting his hands on his slacks as he stood. “Good to see you again, Shiloh. It’s been too long.” The man offered an insincere smile.
“I would have thought you’d be above this, Professor Slate.”
“Above taking my own place in history by finding the treasure of the most famous pirate who ever lived? Certainly not.”
“Above being a criminal,” she spat back.
He looked at her with a mix of pity and derision. “Any true lover of history would understand. Most would have done the same.”
“I disagree.” Shiloh raised her chin in defiance.
“Enough debate.” He bent to pick up one of the gold coins and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. “Would you like to see the treasure? It seems only fair, if we’re going to kill you, that you fully understand why.”
The way he spoke so casually about killing them sent a chill up Adam’s spine. Something about the man was pure evil to Adam. As if he was missing his soul.
“I understand well enough. It’s all part of your greed.”
“Greed, ambition... Really, it’s semantics, isn’t it?” The man shook his head. “I’d hoped you, of all people, a fellow professor, would have understood.”
She stiffened.
“Enough talking.” The other man finally spoke up. “What are we going to do with them?”
Adam noted he sounded nervous, as if he was dreading the other man’s answer.
“Always in such a rush, Harry.”
“The longer we’re down here, the better chance we have of getting caught.”
The taller man gave his partner a glare that smacked of condescension. “We’re not going to get caught. No thanks to you and the stunts you’ve pulled, like vandalizing her car—” he jerked his head toward Shiloh “—and intentionally making noise at the old lady’s house to scare her.”
“I thought if we bothered her enough, she’d leave town and get out of our way. Or at least be afraid enough to shut up about anything she might see,” Harry whined.
Adam turned away from the man, unable to hide his d
isgust. What kind of person was so obsessed with manipulating people through fear?
“Which is why you’re an idiot,” Slate said with a smile. “Don’t worry—that’s why we blew up her house. To shut her up forever.”
Harry blanched. “You mean...because she’d be even more scared.”
Slate just stared at him.
“You said she wasn’t home.” Harry looked as though he’d be sick any minute.
“And you believed me? You’re as gullible as you were in high school. Didn’t you see her car in the garage?”
And then Harry vomited in the corner, adding to the already putrid smell that seemed to follow him around.
Adam was quiet as the men argued. Obviously they didn’t know Mary Hamilton was still alive. From the sound of things, that was good, since at least Slate had wanted her dead.
He glanced over at Shiloh, whose eyes seemed to be searching the room—looking for something to use as a weapon, he would guess. Or a way to get them out of here. Adam watched as her face fell. She shook her head slightly.
“Out of ideas,” she mouthed, shoulders sinking. “We need backup. I’ll stall.”
Adam nodded.
Slate chose that moment to turn his attention back to his prisoners.
“I suppose, idiot though he is, Harry is right this time. I’d better kill you both now so we can get out. Do you have a preference for how you die, Officer Evans, before I leave here with my gold and my place in history?”
“Harry’s not the idiot here. You are if you really think you’re going to get away with this,” she shot back.
“Four bodies. I’ve left four bodies so far—all law-enforcement officers—and still no one has managed to find me. Either they’re not trying very hard or I’m simply more intelligent than they are. The first may be true, but I’m certain the second is, so, yes. I do think I’m going to get away with this because it’s true.”
The man drew the largest semiautomatic handgun Adam had ever seen from a holster at his side and pointed it at them, the light from their flashlights and torches they’d lit on the treasure room’s walls bouncing and glittering off the stainless steel.
Treasure Point Secrets Page 18
