The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious, #2)(51)

“Good one,” Nate said. “Keep doing that.”

“I thought I felt something,” David said. “Let me . . .”

He threw himself up against the wood again, letting out a little groan as he made impact.

“Yeah,” Stevie said. “Maybe . . .”

One more time. And this time, there was a pop. Just a small pop.

The panel had shifted, just the tiniest bit, and now there was an opening about a quarter of an inch wide.

“Cool,” Nate said. “Just slip on through there.”

“Screwdriver,” Stevie said.

She did not have one, but Janelle certainly would, and Janelle usually left her door unlocked. It was wrong, of course, to go in, but this was an emergency. Janelle’s room was an expression of its inhabitant—perfectly organized, every bit of space cared for and optimized. The air smelled of perfume and honeysuckle from a scented oil diffuser. Her workstation was by the window. She had repurposed her desk and put all her tools there. After a moment of looking through clippers and more confusing devices, Stevie found a small hammer. That would do.

She returned to the back of the stairs and wedged the hammer in, first by the small claw end. The passage gave another inch or two, and she put in the end of the hammer handle and used it as a lever. The door did not want to open. Years of nonuse, or possibly a catch she could not see, made it resistant. It groaned in revolt.

“You’re going to break the stairs,” Nate said.

“Want me to try?” David asked.

“No.” Stevie shook out her hands from the pressure of holding the hammer. She went in one more time, putting all her weight on the handle of the hammer.

Then the back of the stairs swung open, revealing a small dark space.

“This is a good Halloween,” David said.

Stevie was able to nudge the doorway open a bit more, shine the light in, and reach around. At first she thought she was touching tar, but then she realized that it was about eight years of dust and dirt that had gone sticky and formed into a new and exciting substance. There was no difficulty finding the hatch. It was right there, in the floor, bolted closed. She tested the bolt, expecting to find that it was stuck in place, but it moved and slid open. She took the handle and pulled, revealing an opening about two feet around.

“This guy really liked crawl spaces,” David said, leaning over her shoulder into the space. “What is that?”

“It’s a hole,” Stevie said, trying to block the view.

“It’s got a ladder in it. Is that a tunnel?”

“Here we go,” Nate said.

Stevie pushed back and sat on her heels, taking in the view in front of her.

“How does this keep happening to you?” David said.

“Because I look,” Stevie replied. “A lot of things happen when you go out and do them on purpose.”

“Okay, Stevie.” Nate was squatting by her side. “I know this is a thing for you, but for real, Pix will be back and they’re kind of . . . Things are kind of sensitive around here, and you just got back. See what I’m saying?”

“Look at this,” Stevie said.

“Yeah, I know, but remember how these things can be unstable? That, is a hole. A small hole. Anything could be down there. There could be wires or something. There could be water.”

David hung down into the opening with the flashlight.

“I don’t see any water,” he said. “Or wires.”

“Seriously,” Nate said.

Stevie knew he had a point. Also, she had made one other promise—to Larry. No tunneling.

Still . . .

“Nate’s right,” she said.

She sprang up from her crouch and went looking for her phone.

“We can’t just go in there. Here’s what we do,” Stevie said. “We call Janelle. For sure she has a little drone with a camera or something and we fly it down there and . . .”

“Time for hole-diving!” David said, turning himself around so that he was feet first. He started lowering himself down.

“David!” she said. “Seriously. We don’t . . .”

“But we will,” he said. “If I don’t come back in ten minutes, avenge me. Or are you coming? You know you want to.”

Then he started climbing down. Nate shook his head and started to disappear into his robes.

“It’s cool down here,” David yelled up. “You should come in. There’s . . .”

He emitted a scream, which caused both Nate and Stevie to leap. Stevie almost threw herself on top of the hole. David peered up and smiled.

“Kidding. It’s fine,” he said, looking up at her. “You guys are so jumpy.”

“What if it collapses?” Nate said.

“Like, suddenly? Just when we’re in it? For no reason?”

“We could wait for Janelle. . . .”

“Come on,” David said. “You don’t get chances like this all the time. Come on come on come on come on come on. You can’t resist.”

Was it the smile? Was it the coat and the suit? The glint in his eye? Or was it just the pure tunnelness of it all? Because he was right. She could not resist.

“He can’t go alone,” she said to Nate.

“He can. We could shut the hatch.”