Where is he? Where’s the maddening man when I need him?
I throw open the office door, finding the room dark, the devil nowhere to be seen.
“What’s going on, dear?” Hannah calls from the doorway.
“Where is he? Elias?” I grab her shoulders. She blinks, startled. “He’s here, right?”
I could’ve sworn he was here, the blinking red light and all.
“Mr. Kent? He went to the basement after a call. Seemedagitated.”
The basement?
I rarely venture down there. I’m not a big fan of dark spaces. I thank Hannah and bolt past her, past the utility hall and the guard station. The nondescript black door next to the laundry gives as I shove it open.
My feet pound the stone steps, past the wine cellar, to the small office in the back.
No one’s here.
I clutch my hair, my gaze pinballing around the space. Bookshelf. Desk. Wet bar. This makes no sense. He couldn’t have just vanished.
Then I feel it.
A thread of air grazes my ankle.
My breath grows thready as I force myself to quiet, to listen.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
It’s faint, but there. Then there’s the chilly breeze.
There has to be a hidden passageway. It’s Saints Hollow—of course there are tunnels underground.
Determination rushes through me. I tear through the room, tossing books from shelves, looking under the desk, the chair, feeling for any hidden latches or buttons.
Just when despair seizes me, I freeze, my fingers catching on a recess behind the one book I didn’t think he’d have.
The Bible.
The bookshelf swings open, revealing a stone tunnel dimly lit by caged bulbs.
My palms sweat, the hairs rising on my forearms. I feel it—the answer to a puzzle I’ve been trying to solve. Something I was not aware I was even searching for before.
I hasten my steps, my footfalls light as I make my way down the stairs. The air thins and grows frigid. The sounds are louder.
Groans and grunts. Someone yelling. A crash.
I shouldn’t be here,my mind warns me, every instinct telling me to turn around and flee.
But I press forward, beckoned by a past I can’t let go of.
The boy with soft green eyes and a beautiful smile who complained about his height.
I bet he’d be tall now.
With memories of Kian making me brave, I follow the curve of the tunnel, finally to a room with a door cracked open, light blazing from the gap. Voices sharpen.
“Please! Mr. Kent—”
