Chapter 6 - The Descent
The air inside the secret passage was cold, damp, and smelled strongly of aged oak, dust, and old stone. The only light came from the narrow beam of the small flashlight Eleanor had handed me before shutting the panel.
I held Mia tightly against my chest, her little arms wrapped around my neck like steel bands. She didn't cry or make a sound—her quiet, observant nature had turned into an incredible, heroic restraint.
“Are we playing hide and seek, Mommy?” Mia whispered into my ear, her voice trembling slightly.
“Yes, baby,” I whispered back, kissing her wet cheek as I navigated the slick, narrow spiral stone stairs heading downward. “We’re playing a game. And we have to be super quiet, okay? Like little mice.”
Mia nodded, pressing her cheek against my shoulder.
We descended deep into the foundations of the mansion. The temperature dropped rapidly, our breath blossoming into white clouds in the beam of the flashlight. The distant howl of the ice storm outside echoed through the stone walls, sounding like a wild animal raging against the estate.
After what felt like an eternity, the spiral staircase leveled off into a narrow brick corridor. At the far end stood a heavy iron latch door.
I reached the door, placed my hand on the cold iron handle, and slowly pushed it open.
It creaked open into the subterranean laundry room of the estate. Massive industrial washers and dryers lined the stone walls, surrounded by stacks of white linens and cleaning supplies. The room was empty, illuminated only by the red emergency backup lights hummed softly on the ceiling.
Across the room was the heavy wooden storm cellar door that led directly outside to the grounds.
I hurried across the concrete floor, pulling the iron bolt back on the storm door. I pushed it open, and a blast of freezing rain and howling wind hit us squarely in the face.
The grounds were completely encased in sheet ice. The manicured lawns had turned into slippery white mirrors, and the wind was knocking heavy, ice-laden branches off the towering oak trees surrounding the estate.
Through the white haze of sleet, I could see the dark outline of the old wooden boathouse sitting three hundred yards away on the rocky shore of Long Island Sound.
“Hold on tight, Mia,” I muttered, stepping out into the freezing darkness.
We stumbled through the ice storm, the sharp sleet stinging my skin like tiny needles. Every step was a battle against the frozen ground. Twice, my boots slipped out from under me, but I twisted my body to make sure I caught the brunt of the fall, keeping Mia protected in my arms.
We reached the heavy wooden sliding doors of the boathouse just as a bright beam of light swept across the frozen lawn behind us.
I looked back over my shoulder.
The high-power floodlights on the mansion roof had been switched on. Powerful white beams were cutting through the driving rain, scanning the grounds.
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From the direction of the main house, two dark figures in heavy coats were sprinting down the icy slope toward the shore, accompanied by the ferocious, lunging silhouettes of two security attack dogs.
They knew we had escaped.
