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He laughed again. “I wouldn’t go that far. But it will be interesting, that’s for sure. Meet me in the lobby around six thirty?”
“Perfect.” Her phone chimed. She checked it and groaned. “That’s Leigh. I’m being summoned. I’m guessing she’ll want to go over my progress in convincing you to stay. I wish I knew why that’s so important to Micheline. What part does she have planned for you to play?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “If I can, I’ll try to find out. In the meantime, I’m going into town to do some exploring. I’m guessing you won’t be able to break free to go with me.”
She tapped her phone. “It doesn’t look like it. Enjoy your day and I’ll see you tonight.”
They walked back toward the house together, but instead of going inside, Jake veered off toward the parking lot and his truck. She stood in the drive and watched him go, waving once when he turned around to look back at her.
Inside the house, Fiona headed immediately toward Leigh’s suite. To her surprise, no one answered when she knocked on the door. She tried the knob. It was locked. Now what?
She dug out her phone and texted Leigh. I’m here. Where are you?
Almost immediately, a text came back. I got called into a meeting. We’ll have to reschedule later. There are a couple of good seminars starting up right now. Go learn.
Ugh. Attending another class ranked up there among things she’d avoid at all costs if possible. She responded with a smiley face emoji, aware that was vague enough that she couldn’t be accused of lying later.
Now that she’d made it seem like she’d be occupied the next couple of hours, she could do some exploring. Ron Underhill, the man who’d been busted for attacking Theo, had mentioned something about cells. The stark terror in his expression meant they weren’t a good place. Did Micheline have her own prison or holding cells somewhere on the property? Since Micheline acted like queen of her own little kingdom, Fiona wouldn’t be surprised to learn the other woman meted out her own form of justice. Not just illegal, but if Fiona could obtain proof, it would be further grounds to not only arrest Micheline, but to shut the AAG down.
Though it was generally rare to find a house with a basement in Arizona, she had to wonder if Micheline had thought it worth the cost to have one. After all, if one were going to have prison cells, what better place to put them than underneath the house? Like dungeons in old castles.
Though she’d seen nothing to indicate this might be the case, the first thing she decided to look for was a door leading to a stairwell. She figured it wouldn’t be anywhere obvious or easy to get to, which ruled out the common areas. Maybe near the kitchen or the laundry area.
Generally, no one but the workers entered the kitchen, but when she pushed through the double doors, moving purposely as if she belonged there, no one stopped her. Which was good, because the best excuse she’d been able to come up with had been to say she’d gotten hungry and wanted to rustle up a snack.
After passing through the entire kitchen, which, with its gleaming stainless steel equipment, resembled something found in a high-end restaurant, she emerged in a small hallway. Since she could now smell detergent and fabric softener, she guessed the laundry room would be down that way.
Why not? She might as well check it out since she’d come this far.
Sure enough, the next door on the left opened to a large laundry space, again more reminiscent of a hotel than a private home. Of course, the AAG center did house around twenty guests, plus maybe ten to fifteen staff members, though most of the workers made the drive in from town each day.
About to turn around and head back the direction from which she came, she realized the hallway didn’t end after the laundry room, as she’d first supposed. A small hallway, an alcove really, sat on the right, just past it. And at the end of this, a door marked No Entrance.
Which meant it was probably kept locked.
Just in case, she tried the handle. To her surprise, it turned.
Glancing around her—she didn’t even see any of the usual cameras she’d noticed everywhere—she opened the door and slipped inside.
Cement walls. And a concrete staircase, leading down. Still wishing she had her pistol, she began slowly descending the stairs, moving as quietly as possible.
Heart pounding, Fiona tried to imagine what she might find. A medieval-type torture chamber? A clean, gleaming modern prison? Or something in between?
At the bottom of the stairs, she encountered another door. Thick steel and windowless. This one was locked.
On the off chance that someone might have been careless, she stood on tiptoe and felt along the top of the door frame, hoping to find a key. No such luck.
Still, the mere fact that there was space under the house was worth looking in to. There had to be another entrance, she thought. Having only one way in and out would be unsafe, to say the least.
Turning, she retraced her steps. This time, when she went through the kitchen, she snagged a small bag of vegetable crisps from the pantry. One of the workers frowned at her but didn’t comment.
She’d have to figure out another way to access the basement. Underhill’s comments—and his very real terror—had made her curious to learn what other dark secrets Micheline might be hiding.
* * *
In downtown Mustang Valley, the well-decorated store windows and clean store fronts made Jake realize how much the locals loved this town. It also made him realize how seldom Micheline had let him leave. Even when he was a small child, she’d rarely taken him out in public. He’d actually believed that was normal until he’d learned from classmates about their celebrations.
Now that he knew Micheline had never really loved him, he had a better understanding of why his childhood had been so bleak. He knew now not to take it personally, but he wasn’t sure how else to handle it.
