The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious #2)(54)

“How did people not know about this?” Stevie said. “That he was married before?”

“That’s the magic of Edward King,” David said. “He made sure we were gone before anything big started happening with his campaign. He married Tina, former intern Tina, to use her full title. Tina is a good campaign wife. She has great teeth. Great big white teeth. It looks like she has a mouth full of kitchen cabinets. How am I doing so far with the full-disclosure thing?”

“It’s . . . a lot.”

“Good thing we’re at the end,” he said, stopping. “Literally. The end. Of the tunnel.”

“Let me see,” she said.

“How? I can’t move around you.”

“Bend down.”

David squashed himself down and Stevie shone her light at the wall. There was a short metal ladder, just eight rungs, leading up to a round hatch.

“Keep the light on it,” he said, standing again. He set his light down, shook the ladder once, then climbed and reached up his hand, testing the hatch, pushing hard.

“Nope,” he said. “That’s not opening. A long, dark journey into nothing. But good tunnel.”

He climbed back down. Stevie lowered her light so he would not be blinded. For a moment, they were face-to-face in the dark, though they could not really see each other. She turned her flashlight down to the ground.

“Why did you decide to tell me all this?” she said.

“Like I said. Clear the slate.”

“But why?”

“Because . . . my dad has messed up everything in my life. Now he’s making a career of messing up everyone’s lives. But he can’t have this. He can’t have you. It sounds cheesy, but it’s all I’ve got.”

But your dad does have me, she thought. Could she say it? Tell him right now?

He was reaching for her in the dark, his hand searching, landing on her shoulder, finding its way to her neck, to feel along her chin.

Tell him now. Tell him right now. He just told you everything.

He ran his fingers down her jawline gently. Her breath snagged and she leaned her hip up against the wall for support, which was easy because the wall was only an inch away. He kept coming closer, slowly, testing his way, until his chest was against hers and she did not move.

The heavy flashlight was weighing down her left hand. She found herself leaning down to put it on the ground. Then she rose and reached for his head with both hands, intertwining them in his curly hair. When her lips met his, she felt something release inside of her, something she didn’t know she had been holding. There was something frantic about the way she kissed him, like being with him was the only way she could breathe. They couldn’t move to the left or right, so they stayed locked together. She kissed down his neck and he let out a soft moan, then a little, happy laugh.

“This went better than I hoped,” he said. “I thought . . .”

“Shut up,” she said, kissing him again.

He reached around, gripping her and lifting her a few inches off the ground. Had there been enough room, she would have put her legs around him. But the tunnel walls did not stretch to accommodate her desires.

“There’s something,” he mumbled against her lips.

“What?” she mumbled back.

“Light. Nate has to be signaling.”

He set her down gently. She wished she could see his expression now, but they were blind to each other. He held her face in his hands for a long moment, saying nothing—not kissing, not moving, not seeing.

“Nate,” he said again, after a long pause.

“Nate,” she replied.

“Your turn to lead.”

She fumbled around, her hands shaking and her legs wobbly, trying to find the flashlight. Then she turned awkwardly. She was very glad that David had taken the lead on the way in, because she had only seen his back. Had she had a good look at the long, tight way forward, she would never have gone on, and what had just happened would never have happened.

They walked back, David at her heels, his hand playing with the tips of her hair, teasingly poking at her ribs, tickling the back of her neck. The world was perfect and hilarious all of a sudden, even if they were busted down here. It would all be all right. Her life had been building to this—this tunnel, this moment. She was warm and giddy. She was a new Stevie.

Her light caught something on the ground. At first glance, it was simply more black in a world of blackness, but this was a different, deeper black against the gray, and it had a bit of shine. She bent down and reached for the thing and David took the opportunity to reach around her waist and hug her.

“What is it?” David said. “Treasure?”

She held it under the flashlight beam. It was plastic. A bit of bag, shiny and black.

“Just a piece of bag,” she said.

There were no plastic bags in the thirties, probably. Probably? Stevie rubbed the fragment between her fingers. There was something, something that clicked in the back of her mind. Her brain was always doing that—clicking and not talking to her about the clicking.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Stevie said absently. The bit of plastic slid coolly between her fingertips. “It’s nothing.”

The internal clicking got louder. There was a Geiger counter in her brain. Then she saw it. It had been hard to see the way they came in, because it was on an angle—another opening, about two and a half feet wide.