“So there is a tunnel here?” Abby asked. “I never knew about this one, either!”
Steve joined the conversation. “None of us knew about it. We did some renovations down here about three months ago,” he said. “When we did, we had engineers in—you know, you have to make sure these old places are safe. Anyway, they were looking at the pilings and found that we had a false wall here. They knocked it down. My assistant did some research for me, and we’re putting the info on our new menus,” he added proudly. “The owner during the War Between the States was a heartfelt abolitionist, and this place was a stop on the Underground Railroad. Anyway, they must have kept the entrance hidden behind rum casks back then. And by the time we got to it, the false walls had been painted over again and again. But, like I was showing the police, we had our entrance here sealed as part of the renovation.”
It might have been sealed before, Abby thought, but not anymore. The police had taken sledgehammers to it.
Now, a dark hole gaped before them, running beneath the earth. The artificial light from the cellar faded into the far reaches. David Caswell held a large searchlight and started moving slowly into the dank tunnel.
“Shall we?” Jackson asked, pulling out a flashlight, as well.
Abby felt Malachi’s hand on the small of her back as he guided her forward.
Light played over the walls of the tunnel. There were places where the earth had fallen in and other places where plaster or wooden walls remained to shore it up.
They walked for about fifty feet and came to a dead end.
Jackson, David and Malachi tapped on the solid wall of earth they’d reached, listening for a hollow sound that would indicate the tunnel had been blocked but continued. Malachi used the end of his light to dig at the earth. He hit more earth.
They tried, moving along, casting the light in different directions, tapping and searching, but an hour later, they remained frustrated.
“Nothing,” Jackson said. “I could’ve sworn there’d be something,”
“Me, too,” David Caswell agreed.
“We can get some engineers down here tomorrow,” Jackson said, “and see if we’re missing anything. For now...”
“For now we have to give it up?” Abby asked.
“An engineer will uncover what we can’t,” Malachi told her.
“Right.” Abby felt deflated; she’d been so certain they’d find something.
They trudged back out of the tunnel. Steve and the other officers remained in the cellar.
“We’ll call it a night and get someone in here tomorrow,” David announced.
Jackson stepped forward to thank Steve for all his help. “Hey, it’s my city,” Steve said. “And it tears at my heart to hear about the bad things that are happening. Whatever I can do...”
“Sorry about wrecking the wall,” Jackson reminded him.
“Easy to fix,” Steve assured them. “Don’t worry about it.”
They left, going up to the tavern and out to the street, where David, Jackson, Malachi and Abby stood together, looking at one another.
They resembled kids who’d been playing in the mud, Abby thought. “Well,” David said with a wry grin. “Time to hit the showers.”
“Bianca Salzburg hasn’t surfaced, has she?” Abby said. It wasn’t really a question.
Bianca, her disappearance, had to be the reason for tonight’s exertions.
“No,” David admitted. “She’s still missing.”
“He has her,” Abby said.
David turned to Jackson. “We traced her cell phone. The signal disappeared somewhere around here. That’s why we needed to tear everything up at the restaurant. But I have men on the riverfront. We might go broke on overtime, but we’re leaving nothing unturned. We have police vessels out on the river and the coast guard, too. We’re doing everything we possibly can.”
Abby nodded. “But—”
“We have to quit for tonight,” Jackson said decisively. “Everyone needs to sleep.”
They wished one another a good night. Then Abby and Malachi returned to the Dragonslayer.
Grant Green was at the desk when they walked in. “My God!” he said, staring at the two of them, mouth agape. Guests were still having dinner in the dining rooms; a few people—along with the trio of Bootsie, Aldous and Dirk—were at the bar. Grant hurried around the host stand to meet them. “What have you been doing?”
“Playing in the dirt,” Abby said facetiously.
“Okay, never mind.” Grant sighed. “How’s Helen?”
“Doing well.”
“What about the other girl? The one Roger was seeing?” Grant asked.
“No one knows yet,” Malachi told him.
“That—that bastard!” Grant sputtered. “He takes a new one the minute he...loses one. Can’t you stop him?”
“We will stop him,” Malachi said.
“Are you getting any closer?”
No! Abby wanted to scream. How is he doing this? How is he eluding this kind of manhunt?