Finding a cry for help from Becca filled Mickey with new determination. If the backpack hadn’t been enough proof Becca had been here, her note was. “I’m fine. Do what you need to do.” Drawing herself up, she straightened her spine and stiffened her resolve. She couldn’t be weak right now. “Do you need help?”
Graham pulled at the bookcase and wisps of air streamed in from behind it. His muscles bunched as he maneuvered the heavy bookcase forward. “Let me see the light.” He grabbed the phone and shined the small beam into the large space he’d created. “It looks like there’s quite a bit of space behind thisthing. I can’t see the back. There isn’t a wall or anything back here.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh my God. Do you know what this is?”
“Obviously not.” He snorted.
“Graham, we’re in Old Town.” Excitement battled with the constant blanket of fear that had covered her all night. Under any different circumstance, excitement would have won out. Not tonight. But she still couldn’t stop her words from tumbling out a little too quickly.
He turned to look at her, his brow lifted. “So?”
“This could be a tunnel from the Underground Railroad.” Her voice grew louder with every word. She lifted herself on to her toes to see above Graham’s head and smacked her head on the ceiling. “Ouch.”
His mouth drew down, causing wrinkles to ripple on his chin. “That’s crazy. No way that’s what this is. It’s probably a pit they dug to hide girls.”
She shook her head and wonder laced through her voice. “I’d bet my paycheck this house was here before the fire. This part of town was heavily used to transport slaves from the south. The city was a hub of activity, and a lot of the different routes through Illinois came here.”
“I never knew that.”
“I’m not surprised, most people don’t. My dad’s a huge history nerd, so we used to come to Old Town when I was a kid and he’d point out different areas of importance during the Civil War. Even places that aren’t standing anymore. Most of the houses that were a part of the Underground Railroad burned down, but there are a few left. This has to be one of them.”
He rubbed the tips of his fingers over his chin. “If you’re right, this would be the perfect house to set up a human trafficking operation. They’d be able to move the girls in and outof the house without drawing any attention to themselves. Hell, no one would even have to know girls were in the house at all.”
“In a seriously disturbed way, it’s genius,” she said. “They must have taken the girls with them. Where would it lead?”
He nodded and studied the space he’d uncovered behind the bookcase. He glanced back at her and raised his brow. “There’s only one way to find out.”
14
“Ineed to make a call before we go in there.” Every muscle in his body screamed at him to dive down the rabbit hole and screw protocol. But he needed to do this right. He couldn’t afford another fuck up.
He glanced down at his phone and a moment of hesitation kept him from dialing Eric’s number. Would Eric call Harper and feed him a line of bullshit? He hated not having complete trust in his partner. But he had to call someone. He’d already called for backup from the local police department…twice. Eric was his best option right now. Hell, Eric had never given him a reason not to trust him before. And if he called Eric to let him know he’d covered his bases, it might tame the tingling shred of guilt gnawing into his conscience telling him to wait for backup and keep Mickey away from the crime scene.
Hitting the send button with his thumb, he brought the phone to his ear and waited for his partner to pick up. One, two, three rings sounded in his ear before Eric’s voicemail picked up. Not enough rings for the phone to take him to voicemail on its own. Eric had declined the call. Maybe he was busy with the case and couldn’t be disturbed. That would make the most sense.
“Hey, man. I found something interesting in the house. I’m waiting for backup, but I have to check this out now. I’ll fill you in later.” He clicked off his phone and faced Mickey. “How’s your battery? It’d suck to be wandering around in there with no light.”
She glanced down at the screen. “Not great. Thirty-one percent. It should be fine. What about you?”
“Sixty-four percent.” He flicked his thumb across the screen and clicked on his flashlight. “Ready?”
Mickey nodded and took one step behind the bookcase. A door slammed and Mickey whipped around, her hands gripped his shirt, her eyes wide. Heavy footsteps made the floorboards above their heads shudder. Dirt drifted down and Mickey swiped it off the matted strands of her still-damp hair. “Someone’s here.”
Graham lifted a finger to his lips and tilted his ear toward the ceiling.
“Chicago Police Department. We have a warrant to search this house, and backup was requested by Agent Grassi.”
“Backup’s here.” His gaze stayed glued to the ceiling and indecision warred within him. He should alert the Chicago PD to what he’d found and help them clear the rest of the house. They’d be pissed if they discovered Mickey with him, her fingerprints marking up their crime scene. But he was in the mouth of the tunnel and the girls could be on the other end.
Besides, Mickey would throw a fit if he tried to get her out now. He dropped his gaze to ask Mickey if she wanted to wait upstairs, but she’d already disappeared into the pit behind the bookcase.
Shit.
He turned sideways to squeeze into the dark space in front of him. He lifted the phone and shuddered. The light washed over the sides of the stone walls that stood on either side of him and his head brushed against the ceiling. “Mickey?”
“I’m right in front of you. I didn’t want to wait. Come on.”
He quickened his step to catch up to her. “I hope you’re not claustrophobic,” he said in her ear. She slowed her pace and her body pressed against his.
