River Road
Chapter 10 - River Road
The river service road was half flooded.
Water rushed along the curb. Wind shoved rain sideways. Patrol lights flashed red and blue against puddles, warehouse walls, and the black river beyond the barrier.
Miller arrived behind Ruiz.
A patrol officer pointed toward a maintenance tunnel beneath the old rail bridge. “Someone saw a woman go in there twenty minutes ago.”
“Alone?” Ruiz asked.
“Couldn’t tell.”
Miller moved toward the tunnel.
Ruiz caught his sleeve. “Slow.”
He knew she was right. Storms made heroes stupid. Procedure kept people alive.
They entered with flashlights low.
The tunnel smelled of wet concrete, rust, and river mud. At the far end, something moved.
“Lena Hart?” Miller called. “Police. We’re here to help.”
Silence.
Then a weak voice: “Miller?”
He stepped forward.
Lena sat against the wall, soaked, shaking, one hand pressed to her side but with no graphic injury visible. Her face was pale with exhaustion. Her eyes searched his arms first.
“The baby?”
“Safe.”
She closed her eyes.
For one second, the entire tunnel seemed to breathe.
“Ethan got her there,” Miller said.
Lena’s mouth trembled. “Brave boy.”
Ruiz radioed for medics.
Miller crouched at a careful distance. “The cards were in the garden.”
“I know.”
“We have them.”
Her eyes opened again. “They’ll come for her.”
“They won’t get near her.”
“You don’t know who they are.”
Miller thought of the names on the cards. The donors. The attorneys. The people who built clean doors over dirty rooms.
“I’m learning,” he said.
Footsteps sounded at the tunnel entrance.
Ruiz turned, weapon hand ready but controlled.
A man’s voice called from the rain, smooth and wrong.
“Officer Miller, step away from that woman.”
Lena’s face went white.
May you like
Miller understood.
The storm had brought everyone to the same place.
