When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(98)

That wall wasn’t old, dark stone. It was drywall, covered in some historically patterned wallpaper of deep crimson with tiny gold diamonds. The dark color absorbed the light, made the wall that much harder to see. As if the wallpaper wasn’t just decoration, but camouflage.

Keith was back at the fireplace, running his fingers along the upper ledge of stone. A lever, D.D. realized. He was looking for some hidden latch that would reveal the secret doorway. Which didn’t feel so far-fetched after all. And certainly would explain bringing a dead body down here.

She took up a position on the other side of the fireplace, just as they both heard footsteps thunder overhead.

D.D. froze. Keith, too.

Heavy wooden doors, D.D. thought. They could barricade them with chairs. Then keep looking for the escape tunnel while waiting for a hulking demon to break in from the other side?

Why the hell hadn’t Kimberly texted back yet? Or Flora?

D.D. experienced that hollow, edgy feeling again.

She needed to take action. Identify the threat, then neutralize it.

Except all she had was the sound of heavy footsteps and a room ringed in black.

“Detective Warren?” a voice suddenly called out from down the cellar corridor.

The sheriff’s voice. D.D. nearly sagged in relief. Of course, he was coming over to help.

“Yoo hoo?” Franny’s voice, echoing her boss’s.

D.D. cleared her throat. “We’re down here, in the basement!” she called out.

Keith had finally relaxed, returning his attention to the fireplace’s intricate stonework.

The sheriff finally appeared in the doorway. His eyes were wide. “Never been down here before. Never would’ve even known such a room like this exists.”

“Welcome to headquarters for Diabolical-R-Us,” Keith said.

Franny had followed the sheriff into the room. The older woman was wearing a pale blue sweater set, which she now clutched at her chest. “I don’t . . . I’m not sure . . .”

She caught sight of Bonita, in her oversized sweats and FBI cap. “You have a child down here? That’s terrible!”

Franny gave D.D. a clear look of disapproval.

“We’re about to go up,” D.D. said defensively, even as she prepared to go on the attack. “So what exactly happened at the jail this morning?”

Franny promptly flushed. “I don’t rightly know. Mr. Benson came in, claiming some taskforce officer had taken advantage of his business.”

“Who’s Mr. Benson? What’s his business?”

“Bill Benson. He runs the ATV rental operation.”

“Wait a minute.” Keith drew up short. “Flora and I talked to Bill Benson twice. We rented ATVs from him, but we paid, fair and square. I still have the receipts!”

Franny spread her hands. “I tried asking him what he meant, but he just grew angrier and angrier. Next thing I knew, he was shouting at me.”

Keith frowned. “Really? He didn’t strike me as the shouting type.”

“Can’t say that he’s done that before,” Franny agreed. “Can’t say that I’d like for him to do that again. But he grew so agitated . . . I had to call for help. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You called for the deputy who was watching Howard’s cell,” D.D. filled in.

“Deputy Chad was the only one in the building. It was still pretty early, you understand, and everyone’s been working such long hours . . .”

D.D. got it. The cabal had needed to take out Howard, and once again they’d moved strategically. Appointed this Bill Benson, who’d probably learned about at least some of their investigative efforts from Keith and Flora, to head to the police department first thing in the morning. He’d provided the distraction, while a second person had slid by to encourage Howard to do the deed. Or, for all they knew, person number two had already been in the station. Hell, maybe even worked at the county sheriff’s department, which employed dozens of civilians as well as officers. At this point, anything was possible.

D.D. found herself eyeing the sheriff again. On the one hand, the corrupt local sheriff seemed too obvious. On the other hand, clichés always started with a kernel of truth. Sheriff Smithers put on a good show as the local father figure, genuinely concerned for his community. But he was also one of the few people who knew they needed a password from Mayor Howard. No one else in the sheriff’s department, not to mention the town, had been in on that discussion. Just D.D., Kimberly, Flora, Keith, and Bonita. D.D. trusted her team implicitly. Which left her with . . .

“I’m sorry,” D.D. said at last, given that Franny was clearly distressed and the silence growing strained.

The older woman nodded stiffly. “I apologized to Sheriff Smithers. I’ll add my apologies to you, too. This is my mistake and mine alone. We haven’t ever had such a . . . situation before. I’m afraid I saw Mr. Benson as my neighbor, never even crossed my mind he might be a threat. Shame on me for that. But what’s done is done. I’m here, and I want to help. What can I do?”

D.D. looked over at Keith, who was working the fireplace.

“What are you looking for?” Sheriff Smithers asked, clearly noting Keith’s effort.

“A secret tunnel.”

“A secret tunnel?”

“He’s not lying,” D.D. assured the sheriff.