Chapter 8 - The Woman They Buried Alive
“Mom?”
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Robert looked horrified.
“No.”
I ran to the door.
Mason grabbed me.
“Wait.”
The voice came again.
“Hannah, don't open it.”
I froze.
If it was my mother, why was she warning me not to open the door?
Robert whispered,
“They're using a recording.”
The woman's voice repeated my name.
Then changed.
This time it was Grandpa's voice.
“Hannah.”
Mason stared at the door.
“Someone is playing tapes.”
The knock came three times.
Then silence.
We waited.
Nothing.
Finally, Robert opened the small observation hatch.
Nobody stood outside.
Only a tape recorder had been placed against the door.
We retrieved it.
Inside was a cassette labeled:
SARAH 2002.
We listened.
My mother's voice emerged.
“I know what they did.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know about the agreement.”
Static.
“I know Henry wants to expose them.”
A pause.
“But Robert thinks the only way to protect us is to stay silent.”
I looked at my uncle.
“You had a choice.”
He didn't defend himself.
The tape continued.
“I'm leaving Hannah with Linda.”
My heart cracked.
“I want my daughter to grow up believing she has an ordinary life.”
A man's voice appeared in the background.
Grandpa.
“You can't disappear forever.”
Sarah answered:
“I only need to disappear until they stop looking.”
The tape stopped.
I rewound it.
The final seconds played again.
A different voice.
A man.
Not Grandpa.
Not Robert.
“Sarah.”
She gasped.
Then the recording ended.
Mason looked at Robert.
“Who was that?”
Robert said nothing.
I pressed play again.
The voice was unmistakable.
Elias Voss.
“Sarah.”
My skin prickled.
He had been there.
He had found her.
Twenty-four years ago.
Before I was even born.
We searched the mill for more evidence.
Under the floor we found a metal box.
Inside were newspaper clippings.
Sarah's disappearance.
An environmental accident.
A teenage witness.
A missing woman.
Everything was there.
But the most disturbing article was from 1999.
It reported a fire at the Walker farm.
According to the newspaper, a seventeen-year-old girl had disappeared during the fire.
Her name was Sarah Mercer.
The official record said she died.
No body was recovered.
No body.
That meant everyone had known there was never proof of death.
I looked at Robert.
“Why tell everyone she died?”
He answered quietly.
“Because Elias needed her officially dead.”
“Why?”
“Because a dead witness can't testify.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don't know.”
I pointed at the recent photograph.
“But she came back.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“The same time Grandpa disappeared.”
Robert stared at me.
“Exactly.”
I understood.
“They disappeared together.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Henry disappeared because he found her.”
“And then?”
“Someone took them.”
Mason leaned over the notebook.
“There is a location written here.”
He pointed.
Blackwater Pump Station.
I knew the place.
Everyone did.
It had been abandoned since the flood of 1984.
A concrete structure beside the river.
Half submerged.
No one went there.
Robert stood.
“We have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where Henry would hide someone.”
We drove there before dawn.
The river was swollen.
The pump station looked dead.
Broken windows.
Rust.
Vines.
We entered through the rear.
A tunnel descended beneath the building.
At the bottom was a steel room.
Inside were empty food cans.
Medical supplies.
Blankets.
And a chair bolted to the floor.
There were blood stains beneath it.
My stomach turned.
Then I saw the wall.
Someone had written in red marker.
THREE KNOCKS MEANS SAFE.
FOUR MEANS RUN.
Below that:
FIVE MEANS TOO LATE.
A sound came from behind us.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Mason spun.
“Run!”
We sprinted toward the exit.
Then came the fifth knock.
The entire pump station shook.
An explosion tore through the tunnel.
The floor collapsed beneath Robert.
He fell into the darkness.
I reached for his hand.
He caught my wrist.
“Hannah!”
I pulled.
Something grabbed his ankle.
He screamed.
Then vanished.
I stared down into the black hole.
Robert was gone.
May you like
And someone below us whispered,
“You should have stayed away from your grandfather's farm.”
