*
I pulled on my jeans and sweater, stuffed my feet into my sneakers, grabbed my phone, and crept quietly down the stairs, undoing the deadbolt at the bottom. In the restaurant, I took Gus’s hammer and the big flashlight out of his toolkit under the lunch counter and then pried off both two-by-fours that Chris had nailed over the trapdoor behind the bar. The boards screeched as I pulled them up. Between that and the grunting and the swearing, I worried Chris would appear. I waited a few moments, heart pounding, but he didn’t. I positioned a chair opposite the bar, by the wall under the light switch. And waited.
And waited. Waiting in the dark for something that might not happen turned out to be stupendously boring. I shifted on the wooden restaurant chair, stiff and cold.
And waited.
The harbor was quiet in the dead of the night. Quiet in a way my apartment in New York never was or could have been. The streetlight on the other side of the parking lot threw a tiny sliver of light into the room, but not enough to see much of anything.
In spite of my best intentions, I dozed.
“Julia?”
“Aieee!” My eyes sprang open, but I couldn’t see a thing. I flailed at the intruder, who grabbed both my wrists and held on.
“It’s me, Chris! I woke up and you weren’t in bed, so I came to find you. Good grief, Julia. What is going on?”
I sagged against him. “Shhh. Quiet. I’m hunting wabbits.”
Chris found a chair and pulled it next to mine. “Seriously, what in the world are you doing?”
“I told everyone who was in the restaurant the night Austin Lowe was murdered that I had the only copy of an insurance report that named the person who left the cigarette that started the fire at the Lowes’ house. I figure that’ll cause whoever’s been breaking into the apartment to show up one last time.”
Beside me in the dark, I heard Chris open his mouth several times, but he produced only sputtery noises. Finally, he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I worried you’d think I was insane.”
“Well then, mission accomplished.”
We sat for a moment, then he said, “Julia, we have to talk about this. I’m serious. This is the second time you’ve tried to brain me. And the second time you’ve put yourself in danger without telling me. I think, after all this time, after all we’ve been through, I’m owed a heads-up on your intentions.” His voice had an edge to it I’d rarely heard. He was angry.
I felt my face flush. “You’re right. You are. You are owed that, and so much more.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said. “When we’ve had some sleep.”
“Maybe we should go to bed. It looks like my plan hasn’t worked. I’ve been sitting here for hours.”
“It’s still dark.”
“Then we should quiet down. Just in case.”
Chris took my hand and we sat in silence. In a few minutes, his chin dropped slowly to his chest.
I was about to drop off again myself when I heard a creaking noise from behind the bar. I shook Chris and then elbowed him. He jerked awake with a “Wha?”
“Shhh!”
The trapdoor banged as it fell open. I put my hand on the light switch. Soft footsteps made their way around the bar. Whoever it was wore a headlamp like bicyclists wear but didn’t shine it in our direction. Instead, the person made straight for the apartment stairs.
When I judged the intruder was in the middle of the room, I flipped on the lights.
“You!” I shouted, pointing at Phil Bennett, who stood in the center of the room.
“You!” he yelled simultaneously, pointing at Chris and me. Then he turned and, with surprising agility, fled back the way he’d come.
I thrust my phone into Chris’s hands. “Call nine-one-one,” I shouted, and ran after Phil. He jumped down through the trapdoor, grunting as he hit the rock not far below. I jumped after him, hit the rock, and aimed the flashlight just in time to see him slip through the opening to the cave.
I followed, pointing the flashlight ahead of me. Bennett ran on, apparently sure of the way. I’d been in the tunnel only once before and moved more cautiously than he did, worried about running headlong into a wall of packed dirt despite my flashlight. I pushed myself to go faster. If he made it to the ladder and pulled it up behind him, I’d have to turn around and go back, and he could easily get away.
Behind me, I heard the slap of bare feet on the tunnel floor. I assumed it was Chris. I had to believe it was Chris. If someone else was pursuing me, it was too scary to think about.