Page 25 of The House on Forgotten Hill

“Would you mind coming here a second?”

I followed him to the office, my eyes coming to rest on several pieces of floorboard that were lined up against the wall. Leonard glanced back at me and then pointed toward the opening between two floor joists.

“When I started pulling up the damaged boards, I noticed these two were loose.” He crouched beside the opening. “Take a look at what I found beneath them.”

I crouched next to him.

Inside the narrow compartment was a green metal box about the size of a shoebox. The paint had chipped away in places, making it look as though the box had been there for several years.

“The box, have you opened it?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Didn’t think it was my place.” Leonard lifted the box and handed it to me. “I’ve been doing the same job for over thirty-five years. You find all kinds of strange things inside some of these older houses.”

“What sort of things?”

“Money. Jewelry. Love letters. You name it.” He tipped his head toward the box. “Whatever’s inside, someone went to a bit of trouble to make sure that box stayed hidden.”

I glanced back at the spot where the box had been found. When my father had used the room as his office, the loose floorboards would have been hidden beneath his desk and the red oriental rug that covered the floor.

It was the perfect hiding place.

I thanked Leonard for the discovery and carried the box to my room. For several minutes I just stared at it, worried about what I’d find when I opened it.

Questions flooded my mind.

Had my father hidden it?

Or had someone else?

There was only one way to find out …

The latch creaked as I lifted it.

Inside were several folded newspaper clippings tied together with a piece of faded string.

I untied the bundle.

The first article caught my attention.

LOCAL WOMAN STILL MISSING

Beneath the headline was a photograph of a smiling young woman.

Christy Meyers, twenty-four, disappeared while visiting her aunt over the summer. She was last seen leaving Mason’s Tavern just before midnight.

I continued reading.

Witnesses couldn’t say whether Christy had left the tavern alone that night or in the company of someone else. Police suspected foul play, but no arrests had ever been made, and her body was never found.

I picked up the next clipping. It was another photograph of a missing woman, and this time I recognized the name.

It was Lara, Estelle’s daughter.

The article was similar, and just like Christy, there had been no suspects in Lara’s disappearance either.

The third article featured yet another young woman. Her name was Melinda Bellamy, and she was twenty-seven when she went missing.