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Keith had put away his phone and was inspecting the walls again.
“What are you looking for?” D.D. asked finally.
“I’m not sure. But this space, it isn’t right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Old homes generally have cellars with earthen floors, and with pillars of piled rock in the middle to help support the home above. This basement, with its narrow hall, tiny room, and now this... This is quite elaborate.”
“Maybe the Counsels did this after the fact, so they would have extra space for their staff. I mean, at some point they clearly added plumbing and electricity.”
“To the small rooms, sure. But this space.” He moved near the fireplace. “This wall is clearly part of the original foundation.” He ran his fingers along the jagged lines of giant chunks of stone, piled tight. Clearly an engineering feat back in the day when they’d had no heavy equipment. “If only these stones could talk.”
D.D. arched a brow. “From computer analyst to stone whisperer?”
“Nah, just a nerd who read about the history of this town while we were driving up.”
“Dahlonega started the gold rush. ‘There’s gold in them thar hills.’ That’s what you told us.”
Keith nodded. “Guess what else is in these hills?”
“Well, gold mines.” D.D. paused, said more slowly, “Tunnels. These hills would be full of tunnels, where various miners searched for gold.”
“And after the gold rush, guess what else this area became known for?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“A major hub along the Underground Railroad. Wealthy abolitionists took in escaping slaves. Where they could secret them away in their cellars, then spirit them along a vast network of underground tunnels.”
D.D. got it. “You think there’s a tunnel down here. This room, it’s a meeting point for a reason.”
“If the same people were always appearing at this inn for some clandestine meeting, people might notice. And we probably would’ve heard about it. Local gossip and such. But what if they didn’t have to ever enter the inn? What if there was another way?”
D.D. looked around. What Keith was saying made some sense. “Your wall, the fireplace wall, is original,” she noted slowly. She turned to the left. “That wall, also clearly old stone.” Behind her were the double doors, framed into drywall. Which made sense. A cellar was generally open, whereas the Counsels had clearly enclosed this space after the fact. Which left her with the wall behind the oak table, where Bonita stood.
That wall wasn’t old, dark stone. It was drywall, covered in some historically patterned wallpaper of deep crimson with tiny gold diamonds. The dark color absorbed the light, made the wall that much harder to see. As if the wallpaper wasn’t just decoration, but camouflage.
Keith was back at the fireplace, running his fingers along the upper ledge of stone. A lever, D.D. realized. He was looking for some hidden latch that would reveal the secret doorway. Which didn’t feel so far-fetched after all. And certainly would explain bringing a dead body down here.
She took up a position on the other side of the fireplace, just as they both heard footsteps thunder overhead.
D.D. froze. Keith, too.
Heavy wooden doors, D.D. thought. They could barricade them with chairs. Then keep looking for the escape tunnel while waiting for a hulking demon to break in from the other side?
Why the hell hadn’t Kimberly texted back yet? Or Flora?
D.D. experienced that hollow, edgy feeling again.
She needed to take action. Identify the threat, then neutralize it.
Except all she had was the sound of heavy footsteps and a room ringed in black.
“Detective Warren?” a voice suddenly called out from down the cellar corridor.
The sheriff’s voice. D.D. nearly sagged in relief. Of course, he was coming over to help.
“Yoo hoo?” Franny’s voice, echoing her boss’s.
