EVERYONE IGNORED THE TERRIFIED BOY SIGNING FOR HELP - UNTIL A BROKE WOMAN ANSWERED HIM, AND HIS FEARED MAFIA FATHER RECOGNIZED THE SECRET SIGN HER DEAD SISTER HAD TAUGHT HER YEARS AGO

The drainage tunnel opened onto the slippery, boulder-strewn coastline of Lake Michigan. Rain had begun to fall again, mixing with the frigid spray of the crashing waves.

Claire, Grant, Noah, and three surviving security guards sprinted through the darkness, keeping low beneath the shadow of the coastal bluffs. Behind them, automatic gunfire and secondary explosions echoed from the watchtower as Arthur’s men realized they had breached an empty room.

Two miles north, the red flashing beacon of the regional communications tower pierced the fog.

“They’ve realized we’re gone!” Victor shouted over his shoulder, holding a tactical tablet. “Arthur’s vehicles are turning around! They’re heading up the coastal highway toward the substation!”

“We have five minutes,” Grant said, pushing through the dense pine brush surrounding the perimeter fence of the transmission station.

Grant kicked open the chain-link gate, allowing Claire and Noah to slip inside the small, unmanned brick building housing the master broadcast servers.

Inside, the room hummed with the steady vibration of cooling fans and blinking green server racks.

Claire rushed to the primary control console, wiping rainwater from her face. She inserted the small black steel drive into the master terminal.

A red prompt flashed across the monitor:

ENTER OVERRIDE CIPHER.

Claire stared at the screen, her heart slamming against her ribs. “It needs a password! A eight-character cipher!”

Grant stepped up beside her, scanning the prompt. “Rebecca’s birthday? The date of our wedding?”

“No,” Claire said, looking down at Noah. “It wouldn't be something Arthur could guess. It’s something only Lily and Rebecca knew.”

Claire looked at the back of the photograph Grant had given her in the diner: FOR OUR BRAVE SISTERS, ALWAYS FIND HOME.

She remembered the secret sign Lily had invented—the gesture Noah had performed in the diner that had started this entire night.

Two fingers curled against the palm. Thumb brushing the wrist. Hand over the heart.

In standard ASL fingerspelling, those specific hand shapes represented three letters: F-M-D.

Find Me in the Dark.

Claire typed the letters into the prompt: F-M-D-1-9-9-2—the year Lily was born.

ENTER.

The terminal screen instantly turned green. A progress bar began to fill rapidly:

UPLOADING ENCRYPTED EVIDENCE TO FEDERAL RESERVE DATABASE... BROADCASTING AUDIO FILE LIVE TO ALL REGIONAL MEDIA FREQUENCIES...

Through the thick glass windows of the substation, headlights washed over the building.

Four heavy SUVs crashed through the perimeter fence, surrounding the brick building. Doors slammed open, and dozens of armed men poured out into the rain.