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“Damn, if they get there before we do?”
“So you really think you know where it is?”
“I do.”
“Look, I’m going to call Sullivan and tell him to meet us out there as soon as he can. Let’s go right now.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh, but you can’t leave your kids.”
“That’s not a problem. My mom’s here. She can look after them. You call Sullivan and I’ll let her know that I’m leaving and that I’ll be back later.”
“Sounds good,” said Beckett.
***
While they were traveling to Stormfield in Beckett’s truck a storm system blew in and it started to lightning and thunder, the wind picked up, and the rain started to fall. It was nearly eleven when they arrived. With the cloud cover the place was totally dark.
Beckett and Gibson pulled out their flashlights.
“I don’t see Sullivan’s car,” noted Gibson.
“The weather might have slowed him down.”
“Okay, let’s go. He can catch up when he gets here.”
They ran through the storm to the entrance.
The front door was unlocked.
They went in and shook the water off their clothes; Gibson pulled her wet hair out of her face.
“So where is the hiding place?” said Beckett as their twin beams cut through the gloom.
Gibson shone the light on her face, looking triumphant. “The room where Langhorne was found isnotthe only secret room in this place.”
“What!”
“Yeah, I did a rundown on Stormfield’s history, and it seems that the man who originally built it was of Scottish ancestry. Well, the Scots are famous for putting hidden rooms in their castles. I spoke with John Turner, who sold the place to Langhorne. He said there’s a second secret room down in the wine cellar, and he told me how to access it.”
“Damn. Good work, Gibson.”
“Thanks. I actually patted myself on the back with that one.”
They headed down the stairs.
On reaching the wine cellar, Gibson hurried over to a far corner where a wooden wall with wine bottle shelving attached was situated.
“Shine your light right there,” she instructed Beckett as she pointed at the lower right-hand corner of the wall.
He did so and she set her light down, and gripped at a corner of the wood. First she pushed inward and there was an audible click. Then she pulled and the entire section of wall rotated out on hinges.
“Voilà.” She picked up her light and shone it inside the small, dank room.
At the rear, under some old blankets, was a box. She opened it while Beckett kept his light pointed at it. Inside was a key.
Gibson held it in her hand and looked around. “Okay. What do you open?” Then Gibson started probing and prying in the middle of the rear wall of the room. “Shine your light,” she said urgently.
He did so and she pulled away a bulge of bubbled paint, revealing a keyhole.
“Damn, how’d you see that?” asked Beckett.
