Chapter 6 - The Voice Below the Fire
I moved before I realized I'd taken a step.
Bennett caught my jacket.
"Ethan, stop."
"Somebody's alive down there."
"And running into a collapsing structure won't help him."
Another section of roof fell.
The fire chief shouted for everyone to move back.
I stood with my fists clenched, listening to the scream echo through the smoke.
It came again.
"Hayes!"
The voice sounded young.
Male.
Desperate.
Then coughing.
Then nothing.
I looked at Grady.
"How long before you can get somebody down there?"
"We're working on it."
"How long?"
He met my eyes.
"I don't know."
That was the answer I feared.
Bennett spoke into her radio, requesting additional emergency personnel and access to any available plans for the old county shelter.
Cole stood beside his SUV, talking quietly into his phone.
I watched him turn his back to us.
He wasn't worried about the people trapped underground.
He was worried about what they might say.
"Agent Bennett," I said.
She followed my eyes.
"What?"
"Separate Cole from his phone."
"On what grounds?"
"Look at him."
She looked.
Cole ended the call and slipped the phone inside his jacket.
Bennett approached him.
"Sheriff, we're going to need everyone who entered the property today identified."
"Of course."
"And I need you to preserve your communications relating to Mr. Hayes, this property, and Daniel Mercer."
Cole smiled.
"Happy to cooperate."
I didn't believe a word.
Bennett didn't either.
But suspicion wasn't an arrest warrant.
That's the part people never understand when they imagine taking down a corrupt sheriff.
A badge can be abused.
A gun can be used to intimidate.
Witnesses can be frightened.
But if you want the case to survive a courtroom, the evidence has to survive scrutiny.
Cole knew that.
He was counting on it.
The rescue team reached the hatch forty minutes later.
A hydraulic spreader lifted twisted steel away from the collapsed floor.
Firefighters lowered a camera through a narrow opening.
Bennett and I watched the monitor from behind the command truck.
Concrete walls.
A rusted ladder.
Pipes.
Then a hand.
A living hand.
It appeared at the edge of the camera's view, reaching from beneath a fallen beam.
"Move left," Grady said.
The operator adjusted the camera.
A young man's face came into view.
Blood covered his forehead.
His lips moved.
The microphone picked up a faint sound.
"Please."
Rachel's brother.
Caleb.
I recognized him despite the bruises.
"That's him," I said.
Bennett turned.
"You're sure?"
"That's Caleb Warren."
The camera operator spoke through the microphone.
"Caleb, this is the fire department. Can you move?"
His head shifted.
Barely.
Then he opened his eyes.
"Tell Ethan..."
He coughed.
Blood stained his teeth.
"Tell him the sheriff didn't start it."
My skin prickled.
"Caleb," I whispered.
The operator leaned toward the monitor.
"Save your strength. We're coming."
Caleb reached toward the camera.
His hand shook.
"Not... the sheriff."
The transmission crackled.
Then he said one name.
"Voss."
The feed went black.
A firefighter cursed.
"Lost the cable."
Bennett looked at me.
"Who is Voss?"
I couldn't answer immediately.
There was a man named Adrian Voss in my past.
A private defense contractor.
Former intelligence officer.
He'd run a logistics company during an operation in the Middle East.
I'd testified in a closed investigation after discovering that supplies listed as medical equipment had been diverted to unauthorized buyers.
Four men had died during the investigation.
Voss had disappeared before federal prosecutors could question him.
Officially, he'd died in an aviation accident.
I'd never seen a body.
"An old ghost," I said.
Bennett's eyes narrowed.
"What kind of ghost?"
"The kind that should be dead."
The rescue crew managed to create an opening large enough for a firefighter to enter.
We waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then the radio crackled.
"Victim located. Adult male. Alive. Significant injuries. Request immediate medical evacuation."
I exhaled.
For the first time that day, something had gone right.
Caleb emerged on a rescue stretcher twenty minutes later.
His left leg was immobilized.
His face was gray.
An oxygen mask covered his mouth.
He looked ten years older than I remembered.
I approached the ambulance.
A paramedic stepped between us.
"Sir, give us room."
"I'm family."
She examined my face.
Then moved aside just enough.
Caleb's eyes opened.
He looked at me.
"Rachel?"
"She's safe."
He shook his head.
"No."
I leaned closer.
"What?"
He grabbed my sleeve.
His fingers were ice cold.
"Rachel isn't the one who betrayed you."
I froze.
"Caleb, what are you talking about?"
His grip tightened.
"She's been trying to keep you alive."
A paramedic adjusted his oxygen mask.
"Sir, we need to move."
Caleb pulled the mask away.
"Listen to me."
His voice was barely a whisper.
"The first thing they did... was change your medical records."
My heart thudded.
"What records?"
He stared at me with naked terror.
"The ones that said you were dead."
Then his eyes rolled back.
The paramedic pushed me away.
"We're moving now!"
The ambulance doors slammed.
Bennett stood beside me.
"What did he mean?" she asked.
I looked toward the burning garage.
A name from my past.
An underground tunnel.
A missing man.
A sheriff willing to kill.
And medical records declaring me dead.
"I don't know yet," I said.
Then my satellite phone rang.
Unknown encrypted caller.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke.
Calm.
Familiar.
Almost amused.
"Hello, Ethan."
I stopped breathing.
Eight years had passed since I'd heard that voice.
"You were always difficult to kill," the man said.
"Adrian?"
May you like
He laughed softly.
"Welcome home, Commander."
