Page 51 of In Her Memory

Grapes.

The word triggered a memory—last night’s dream, still vivid in her mind. Pete Shannon had offered her a bunch of grapes. “Would you care for one?” he’d asked, pointing to a single black grape among the purple. “Try it. You’ll like it.”

And Piper had told her to look for something small and black.

Jenna scanned the wall scanned the wall closely. There—near the corner of the room—a cluster of inlaid grapes with a single black one among them. Not mother-of-pearl like the others, but onyx, dark and gleaming.

She moved toward it, aware of Jake’s curious gaze following her. Without pausing to explain, she reached out and pressed the black grape with her index finger.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a soft click that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet room, the entire panel shifted, sliding back a couple of inches.

“What the—” Jake started, moving to her side.

Jenna didn’t answer. Her heart was pounding as she grasped the edge of the panel and slid it open, revealing a dark space beyond.

“Thank you, Piper,” she whispered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jenna stared into the strange opening that been revealed when the wall panel slid open. Cool, stale air flowed from the hidden space.

“Sheriff, I’ll be damned,” Jake muttered from behind her, his voice low with awe. “What have you found?”

She pulled her phone from her pocket and activated the flashlight. The narrow beam fell on a back wall, but she could only see darkness on both sides. This was no simple closet. She’d found a passageway barely wide enough for a single person. The walls were plain wood, unadorned and utilitarian, a stark contrast to the ornate Victorian bedroom surrounding them.

“Can’t tell how far it goes,” Jenna said, stepping forward to direct the light farther. She could see that on one side the passageway vanished into darkness. On the other, it extended about ten feet before intersecting with a passage branch into two directions—one left, the other right. “It branches off. There could be passages like this throughout the entire house.”

Jake stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against hers as he peered into the hidden corridor. “These changes everything about our case.”

“Someone could have used this passage to suddenly appear in Boyd’s room, triggering his heart attack.”

“You said Boyd came to you in your dream,” Jake said slowly. “That he warned you about ghosts that were solid enough to touch.” His eyes met hers. “The house is haunted all right—by a flesh-and-blood killer using these passages to stalk the residents.”

Jenna found something uniquely unsettling about discovering that a killer had been moving through these walls, watching, waiting, perhaps even now.

“Donna Marsh’s death wasn’t an accident,” Jake continued, his voice growing more certain. “And now we know how the killer got into her apartment—through an opening just like this one.”

“And now Boyd,” Jenna added. “Another ‘accident’ that plays perfectly into the house’s haunted reputation.” She backed away from the passage, allowing the panel to remain open. “Both staged to get people talking about the ghost who supposedly haunts this place. But who are we looking for?”

“Nolan Greer,” Jake said. “He’s the only one with access to the entire building. And he mysteriously failed to show up for Boyd’s meeting.”

“He could still be somewhere in there right now,” Jenna said. She glanced back at the dark opening, imagining someone lurking just beyond the reach of her light. “We need to search,” she decided. “But quietly. If we announce this discovery, we risk tipping off our killer that we’re onto him.”

“So, we’ll need to be careful about who we tell,” Jake agreed. “Officer Baldry can help. He’s discreet, and he’s got the build to handle narrow spaces if needed.”

“Good choice,” Jenna said. “Go find him. I’ll keep searching this room for other clues.”

Jake hesitated. “You sure you want to stay here alone?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jenna assured him. “Just hurry back with Baldry.”

With a final glance at the open passageway, Jake turned and left the room. The heavy door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Jenna alone with the body of Boyd Calloway still lying on the bed, covered with a sheet that had been pulled up over his face.

She returned her attention to the passageway, shining her light deeper into its depths. She’d heard that houses of this era sometimes had hidden corridors for staff to move discreetly, but they were usually more straightforward, designed for efficiency rather than secrecy.

Something from her dream with Boyd Calloway surfaced in her memory. He had stood in darkness, but not complete blackness. There had been a flickering, image projected on a wall before him of a Victorian couple undressing in a room much like this one. And for some reason it had been upside down.

Jenna looked at the open panel, then back at the body on the bed. An impulse seized her—the kind that had guided her through countless cases. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she slipped into the passageway and pulled the panel closed behind her. The darkness was immediate and complete, broken only by the thin beam of her phone’s light. The air was stale and thick with dust that tickled her nostrils. She took a few careful steps, keeping one hand on the wall to maintain her balance.