? ? ?
THE GUY ON YOUTUBE, HE was right. He said that you could feel it when the pins lifted. She could visualize from the info on Wikianswers.com. You just kind of patiently worked the edges of the pick in and pushed. If you closed your eyes, you could see the pointed copper surfaces. You used the tension wrench to turn. This lock must have been older or different than the one in the basement, because Raven could kind of feel it. She just worked it, worked it, until there was an audible click and the lock snapped open. She stared at it for a moment in disbelief. Then she stood, grabbed the latch and with effort, swung the door wide.
“Holy crap,” said Troy, coming to stand beside her. The both gazed down into the black maw in the ground. There were rungs sticking out of the wall, a ladder into the dark.
Raven sat on the edge, dangling her legs down.
“Whoa,” said Troy, lifting his palms. “Wait a minute. You are not thinking about going down there.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. Was he kidding? After all of this, not go down? No way.
“You are crazy,” he said. He threw his hands up. He always gesticulated wildly when he was passionate about something. “You have no idea what’s down there, first of all. Whether the structure is stable. It’s dark. What if there are rats? What if it collapses?”
Ugh. He was such a baby. She kicked at the top rung with her heel. It was solid. The walls were cinderblock; it wasn’t going to collapse. She didn’t think. It was dark. Like, for real dark. Troy, as usual, was probably right. But what if? What if there was a bag filled with money down there? And all she had to do was go get it.
“Raven.”
She spun herself around and started down, looking up into Troy’s stricken face.
“Raven Grace Bishop-Martin,” he said. He sounded just like her mom. “Don’t you dare.”
She smiled at him wide, a dare. He shone the beam of the flashlight down on her. She turned and could see the dirt floor below her. It wasn’t that far, even if she fell. She carefully tested each rung before committing herself. Then she was down the ladder, the tunnel stretching out ahead of her, total blackness. It was very small; she’d have to crouch or maybe even crawl. Some of her bravery left her, and she looked back up at Troy.
“Are you coming?”
“No way.”
“What are you going to do if I go?” she asked. “Tell my mom?”
He looked longingly back in the direction of the house.
“Raven, please don’t do this,” he said. “Let’s just go tell your mom what we found. Let her decide what to do next.”
It was tempting. But. “What if it’s down here?”
“What if it is?” he said with a shrug.
“Then we’re rich,” she said. She knew it sounded childish, and he rolled his eyes.
“The money doesn’t belong to us,” he said.
“Finders keepers,” said Raven, even though she didn’t really mean it.
“It’s evidence,” he said. “People died.”
“Then we’re heroes,” she said. “We solved a ten-year-old case.”
She saw that he liked that better than the idea of stealing money—even though it wasn’t really stealing. He was a rescuer at heart. A good guy. Still, he stayed up there, looking down at her.
“Raven,” he said. “Just come up.”
She really didn’t want to go alone, but she would. Maybe it was better if he stayed up there. If the tunnel did collapse, at least he could call for help.
“Toss me the flashlight if you’re going to stay up there.”
He looked at her, frowning with worry, a moment longer. Then he climbed down the ladder after her.
? ? ?
CLAUDIA WAITED, LISTENING TO HIM move around in the basement. It had been about six minutes (she was watching the clock), but it felt like a half hour, more. The phone still hadn’t come back on; she kept picking it up to check. Raven and Troy were still in the barn. Scout had drifted back into his shadowy world, and the sun was dipping low, shadows growing long, the sky a dusty blue. She had decided to quickly head upstairs for her cell phone when she heard a crash down in the basement. She froze, listening, then moved to the top of the stairs.
She stood in the doorway to the basement. “Josh?”
No answer.
“Everything okay down there?”
Nothing.
She should run upstairs and get the phone. Why hadn’t she brought it down with her? She could call the police? And say what? That the handyman she hired was taking too long in the basement finding his level? Maybe she could say that she thought he fell, hurt himself.
“Josh.”
She heard movement, a low groan—pain, frustration?
She started down the stairs. She took one creaking step at a time, looking down at her sparkling genie flats that she’d paid too much for on Etsy. Just as she came to the bottom step, he slipped out of the darkness, sweating, looking frazzled.
She backed away from him, up a step. Her trainer wouldn’t approve. Never back away, he’d say. Move in. Stand your ground. Only run after you’ve delivered the incapacitating strike to the eyes, the throat, or the groin. She knew the drill. Eyes. Throat. Groin. Fingers to the corners of the eyes. Claw of the hand to the jugular. Knee to the groin, hard and fast. Then run. She remembered her training well. Too bad she couldn’t seem to put any of it into action. Fear was the factor you couldn’t predict or control.
They stood a second, regarding each other.
“What are you really doing down here?” she asked.
He let out a long sigh, leaned back against the wall. “How did you know about it?”
“About what?”
He motioned toward the hole in the drywall; it gaped like a mouth.
A vein started to throb in her neck, a dryness tugging at the back of her throat.
“How did you find this? I’ve been looking in this house for years. More than ten years.”
There was something raw and desperate about his energy now, something that made her body tingle with fear. She didn’t say anything, felt her awareness reach out for Raven. Please stay in the barn, she silently told her daughter.
“You need to leave,” she said, marshalling strength to her voice. “Now.”
He shook his head quickly. “That’s just it. I can’t unless I find what I’m looking for.”
What? What did that mean?
“You need to go now before I call the police,” she said. She stood aside so that he could walk up the stairs.
He took a step closer to her, palms up.
“Look,” he said. “Help me and I’m gone. Otherwise, there are some bad people looking for something that may or not be hidden in this house. If they come here, I won’t be able to help you. I won’t even be able to help myself. I need to find it and take it to them, and they’ll go away.”
She shook her head, but she couldn’t find words. This wasn’t happening.