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“Really.” Brooke headed inside again and cut as straight a line as was possible through the rows of shelves protruding from the back wall. They weren’t built in, but they’d been here for ages and were heavy as fuck to move. Fortunately, I’d never found a reason to do so.
She pressed a finger to her lips.Shh.
I wanted to ask if we were hunting wabbits, but she looked so focused, I had to keep my mouth shut. She walked up through the shelves with a heavy step. “I should’ve worn heels, to get a different echo,” she muttered, then looked at me. “Can I borrow a pair?”
“Not sure his shoes are going to fit you,” Adam said.
But I knew what she was asking, and I had to admit my curiosity was growing to the point where I almost hoped she was right about the basement. Almost. “Give me a sec.”
I headed for the portion of the room with stock I hadn’t finished sorting yet, which included a load of vintage clothing I picked up from an estate sale last week. Most of the clothes would go to a friend’s shop, in exchange for something nifty she had that she didn’t normally deal in, but until then…
I extracted a pair of ruby slippers of all things. They’d be too big for Brooke, but that was better than too small. When I returned and handed her the shoes, she swapped them out quickly for her own sneakers, then resumed her walking pattern.
This time, the echo—or lack of one—was more obvious with each step she took. She paced up and down the shelves, her brow creasing more with each step that sounded the same.
A twinge of disappointment echoed in my chest that she wasn’t finding anything, but it was overwritten by smugness that I was right.
“Should I grab a pair of shoes and help?” Adam offered.
Brooke shook her head. “It might get hard to hear if there are two of us.”
I glared at him.
He shrugged. “What? There could be some neat stuff down there.”
“There could be spiders and dirt down there. If there even were adown there,” I said.
Brooke finished surveying the section near the re-bricked portion of wall and expanded her search. Would she really cover the entire back of the shop? Would that be enough proof? It was pretty much impossible to prove something didn’t exist. In this case, I suppose we could start punching holes in the floor, but that wasn’t happen—
The sound of her footsteps changed, and we paused.
She tapped the floor again, and then several more times, in a widening square around one corner of a bookshelf. “We need to move this.”
“That hasn’t been moved… possibly ever.” I was approaching it regardless, unable to ignore the bubble of anticipation inside. “How do you want to do this?” I looked at Adam.
He shook his head. “However doesn’t get us killed.”
“Deal.” We angled ourselves, and with a combination of lifting, grunting, and pushing—like sex, but without the orgasm—managed to turn the bookcase sideways.
Holy shit.There was a latch.
THREE
ADAM
I felt like Indiana Jones.
But without the class of students. Or the boulder chasing me. Or the Nazis.
Unless one or more of those things was behind the large wooden door we’d just lifted, to expose a staircase that vanished into the dark after about five feet.
My frustration over the failed drone flight was gone. A glance at Brooke showed wide-eyed surprise, and when I turned to Deacon, his doubt had shifted to excitement.
“Lamps,” I said. I wanted lights that would cover a broader range than flashlights.
“Utility closet. Don’t go anywhere, Brooke.” Deacon walked toward said closet.
We each grabbed two large utility work-lamps and all but sprinted back to the stairwell.
