It wasn’t restful. Just brief slips where the pain dulled and she wasn’t thinking about water or air or how long she’d been in here. Or even if someone was coming for her.
She put her ear to the seam and listened.
In the distance, water lapped against the shore. Somewhere birds chirped, and a crow cawed. Little scritches here and there. She was grateful she wasn’t outside exposed to animals and bugs and God only knew what else.
She shifted carefully, easing pressure off her ribs. The movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her side, sharp enough to make her pause and breathe through it.
Earlier, she managed to stand and try to move around the locker. The concrete floor was slick with condensation. She lost her footing, went down hard and landed on her side.
She closed her eyes against the memory.
That fall had changed things.
Now, every breath reminded her to be careful and just how vulnerable she was.
As she listened, a sound drifted across the water. No voices. No footsteps.
An engine.
Mia felt a sudden surge of hope.
She lifted her head, straining to listen. The sound was faint, uneven. Maybe a boat farther out on the lake.
Hope crept in anyway. Stupid. Unhelpful.
She waited.
The engine revved once, then faded.
Nothing followed. No footsteps, no voices, no one to save her.
Mia let her head sink back to the floor, disappointment settling heavy in her gut. She forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily, pushing the panic back where it belonged.
She couldn’t go there yet.
She held on to the belief that Caleb, someone—anyone—would find her.
If there was a hell,it was waiting for Tex to call back.
Dex sat hunched over his computer, fingers flying, jaw set in concentration. No one spoke.
Then Chase’s phone rang.
He answered on the first buzz and put it on speaker again. “Go.”
“All right,” Tex continued. “I’m seeing six old storm lockers near marinas. All shut down, but the paperwork was never fully cleaned up. A couple are officially unsafe. A few got dumped on the town and forgotten. And one never transferred properly.”
Caleb closed his eyes briefly. “That fits.”
“Which one?” Chase asked.
“I just sent you a map,” Tex said. “You’ve got two old marina sites tied to the lake. Both were decommissioned years ago. Different ownership histories, same level of neglect.”
Chase turned the screen so they could all see.
Two clusters of pins glowed against the map.
“That’s both marinas,” Nate said. “Docks barely holding together. Not maintained.”
