The Red Hunter(84)

When someone doesn’t respect the boundaries you have politely set for yourself, watch out for that person. But she hadn’t really set her boundaries, had she?

Then he was in the house, moving toward the basement door. “I’m sure I dropped it. You know how you hear something, and then it’s only later you remember?”

He was lying. She wasn’t sure how she knew it. But she knew it. Close up she saw how tense were his shoulders, how frozen his smile. She gave him a tight nod and he moved quickly toward the basement door. She looked around for her phone. She’d left it upstairs. Ugh. As he moved down the stairs, the sound echoing, she went to stand over by the landline. Why was she so nervous? Just the other day, they’d spent hours alone together. He was fine. She was losing it.

“I’ll go down,” she said.

“No, no trouble,” he said, pushing past her. She stood and let him go.

Should she say something about the state of the wall, make a joke? He probably wouldn’t think anything of it. You couldn’t really see inside the space unless you shone the flashlight. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice.

She moved over to the kitchen and looked out the window, toward the barn, but she didn’t see the kids. That’s when she saw Scout. He was early; she usually didn’t see him until later in the day. He sat, gray and regal, his nose up to the air. She’d call Troy’s phone and tell them to stay in the barn until the coywolf was gone, until the man in her basement was gone. But when she picked up the phone, the line was dead. She stood there a moment, pressing the talk button a couple of times. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, old wires that the phone company was supposed to replace. Usually, it came back up right away. But no. This time it stayed dead.

? ? ?

THE GUY ON YOUTUBE, HE was right. He said that you could feel it when the pins lifted. She could visualize from the info on Wikianswers.com. You just kind of patiently worked the edges of the pick in and pushed. If you closed your eyes, you could see the pointed copper surfaces. You used the tension wrench to turn. This lock must have been older or different than the one in the basement, because Raven could kind of feel it. She just worked it, worked it, until there was an audible click and the lock snapped open. She stared at it for a moment in disbelief. Then she stood, grabbed the latch and with effort, swung the door wide.

“Holy crap,” said Troy, coming to stand beside her. The both gazed down into the black maw in the ground. There were rungs sticking out of the wall, a ladder into the dark.

Raven sat on the edge, dangling her legs down.

“Whoa,” said Troy, lifting his palms. “Wait a minute. You are not thinking about going down there.”

“Well, yeah,” she said. Was he kidding? After all of this, not go down? No way.

“You are crazy,” he said. He threw his hands up. He always gesticulated wildly when he was passionate about something. “You have no idea what’s down there, first of all. Whether the structure is stable. It’s dark. What if there are rats? What if it collapses?”

Ugh. He was such a baby. She kicked at the top rung with her heel. It was solid. The walls were cinderblock; it wasn’t going to collapse. She didn’t think. It was dark. Like, for real dark. Troy, as usual, was probably right. But what if? What if there was a bag filled with money down there? And all she had to do was go get it.

“Raven.”

She spun herself around and started down, looking up into Troy’s stricken face.

“Raven Grace Bishop-Martin,” he said. He sounded just like her mom. “Don’t you dare.”

She smiled at him wide, a dare. He shone the beam of the flashlight down on her. She turned and could see the dirt floor below her. It wasn’t that far, even if she fell. She carefully tested each rung before committing herself. Then she was down the ladder, the tunnel stretching out ahead of her, total blackness. It was very small; she’d have to crouch or maybe even crawl. Some of her bravery left her, and she looked back up at Troy.

“Are you coming?”

“No way.”

“What are you going to do if I go?” she asked. “Tell my mom?”

He looked longingly back in the direction of the house.

“Raven, please don’t do this,” he said. “Let’s just go tell your mom what we found. Let her decide what to do next.”

It was tempting. But. “What if it’s down here?”

“What if it is?” he said with a shrug.

“Then we’re rich,” she said. She knew it sounded childish, and he rolled his eyes.

“The money doesn’t belong to us,” he said.

“Finders keepers,” said Raven, even though she didn’t really mean it.

“It’s evidence,” he said. “People died.”

“Then we’re heroes,” she said. “We solved a ten-year-old case.”

She saw that he liked that better than the idea of stealing money—even though it wasn’t really stealing. He was a rescuer at heart. A good guy. Still, he stayed up there, looking down at her.

“Raven,” he said. “Just come up.”

She really didn’t want to go alone, but she would. Maybe it was better if he stayed up there. If the tunnel did collapse, at least he could call for help.

“Toss me the flashlight if you’re going to stay up there.”