Chapter 8 - THE DEPTHS OF THE CHUTE
Without a second thought, Vance pulled a heavy-duty tactical flashlight from his belt, switched it to high-beam, and dropped down through the floor panel into the dark cavity below.
“Police! Drop whatever you're holding!” Vance roared into the underground tunnel.
The beam of his flashlight sliced through the damp air, illuminating brick walls covered in cobwebs and old pipes. Ten feet ahead, a shadowy figure was stumbling through the low-ceilinged crawlspace, dragging something heavy behind him.
Arthur Pendelton.
The superintendent dropped whatever he was pulling and tried to scramble deeper into the dark recess of the tunnel, but his aging joints betrayed him. He slipped against the damp concrete, crying out in pain as Vance closed the distance in three massive strides.
Vance tackled him to the ground, pinning the superintendent’s arms behind his back with a sharp, practiced efficiency, clicking the steel handcuffs into place.
“Got him!” Vance shouted back toward the opening. “Miller, call an ambulance! She's down here!”
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Miller dropped down through the trapdoor a second later, his flashlight swinging frantically until it caught a horrifying sight tucked behind a stack of rusted metal pipes.
A woman was tied securely to a wooden chair, a thick gag bound across her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and exhaustion.
