“Matt, the ruins are beside the encampment, so we can park with these other cars. That way, no one would notice us if they happened to go by.”
She was right. It was perfect, especially since he could see that while an easily scaled wooden fence surrounded the neighboring property, the fence was covered with signs that read Private Property! Keep Out! Violators Will Be Prosecuted to the Full Extent of the Law!
“Well, I guess we’re going to become lawbreakers,” he said.
“We’re investigators!”
“With no legal search warrant,” he reminded her.
“Imminent danger. I heard someone screaming,” Meg improvised.
“That’s a stretch,” Matt said. He found a place near the road, directly beside the fence. They were in the midst of other cars, dozens of them. They could hear the speeches being given and the murmur of conversation from the Union encampment. There was an expanse of long grass before they could reach the remains of the condemned house on the property. And there were overgrown trees not far in, which meant they wouldn’t be obvious for long, if anyone did look over.
“Should we crawl?” Meg asked.
“Nope, walk in like you own the place. No one will pay any attention to you.”
He opened the car door. To his surprise, Killer, who’d been well behaved, hopped onto his lap and then out the door, not giving Meg a chance to grab his leash.
“Hey!” She jumped out her side of the car and went scrambling over the wooden fence and after the dog. Matt followed as quickly as he could.
Well, good excuse for trespassing. “I had to get my dog, Officer... He ran off!”
Meg could run, that was for sure. He could catch up pretty quickly, but by the time he did, they’d passed by the long, overgrown grass and made it to the shelter of the trees. He nearly collided with her as they crashed through the doorway. The door itself was broken and hanging ajar.
She’d stopped—because Killer had stopped. He stood in the hall and whined. He was uncertain of where to go.
“I’ll take the left side of the house,” Meg said.
“Be careful. It’s crumbling, could cave in,” he told her.
“Gotcha.”
The ruins were dark, gray, forlorn. Anything of value had long ago been removed. His route led to a dining room. No dishes or serving implements there; even the chandelier had been taken away. But wooden cabinets showed where china and crystal had once been kept, and a lopsided table and broken chairs paid homage to meals once eaten by a family. Spiderwebs reigned supreme.
He moved on to an empty pantry and then to what had been the kitchen, a room with worktables, a sink with a rusty pump and a giant hearth.
Coming around from the other side of the house, Meg met him there. A narrow stairway went up to the second floor—the servants’ stairs, he assumed. Another door that was also hanging crookedly on its hinges opened out to more broken steps, steps that led down to the basement, he thought.
Killer followed Meg, then stood in the doorway to the second set of stairs and whined.
“We have to go down there,” Meg said.
“The place is condemned. Could be dangerous. We have to be careful,” he told her.
“Yes, so I should go. I’m way lighter than you are. If the stairs are on the verge of collapsing, I have a far better chance of not falling through.”
“We both go or no one goes,” he said firmly.
“But me first. I can warn you of faulty steps.” Killer solved the problem for them. He barked, and started down the stairs.
“Flashlight?” Matt asked her.
“Yes, of course. I know about being prepared. I just graduated—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a smile, “from the academy. All right, I’m shining my light down there, too. Use one hand for the railing. It may hold if the steps don’t.”
“I know,” she muttered. He could tell that she was a bit annoyed, but he couldn’t help it—he was a protector by nature.
Killer was down there now—and barking. Matt stood in the doorway and tested the first step; it seemed sound. He shifted aside to allow Meg to take the lead.
She moved carefully, but a moment later he heard a loud creak.
“Fourth step!” she called up to him.
“Okay,” he said. Tension flooded his body. He found himself thinking of childhood fears—of monsters that lived in the darkness of basements. Any monsters here would be human. He was pretty sure there was no one down there with a knife or gun, but he didn’t know. And Meg couldn’t hold on to a rail, plus her flashlight—and reach for her gun with the necessary speed if something did raise its ugly head down there. Something or someone...
“I’m down!” she shouted. “The rest of the steps seem solid enough.”