“Noah,” Josie said as she ducked down the steps after him. “What would cause them to flicker like that?”
“Exposed wires. I checked all the junction boxes though. All the wires are covered.”
“What do you mean?”
At the bottom of the steps, Noah paused, scanning the large space. The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling overhead left most of the cellar in shadow. Noah took his flashlight from his belt. Clicking it on, he searched for the breaker. “You see how the ends of the wires are capped with wire nuts and then wrapped up in electrical tape? The wires should be fine like that. It could be something loose in the walls.”
They couldn’t see the flicker or flash of the lights now that they were in the basement.
Josie followed him as he weaved through the dusty items the previous owners had left. “What would happen if you took the tape off the wire nuts?”
“Nothing. Unless you touched them together.”
Josie grabbed his hand. “Stop.”
He shone his flashlight between them, illuminating both their faces. “What’s going on?”
“I think—” She broke off. It was insane. The idea was utter madness. The very definition of desperation. Was she still grasping at straws even after her monumental failure today? Did she simply not want to have to look Turner in the eye when they reached the bottom of the driveway and tell him they still hadn’t found his family?
Josie took the flashlight from his hand, scanning the basement with it. Most of the furniture had been covered with drop cloths but they had removed them to make sure there was nothing beneath them. “This stuff is really old.”
Noah wiped sweat from his forehead. “Yeah.”
“At Your Disposal would love this stuff,” she continued. At Your Disposal was a junk removal company whose owners sold antiques on the side for clients who had valuable items they wanted to make a profit from instead of simply throwing them away. Josie had learned a bit about those kinds of items during a case they’d solved a month ago. She ran her finger over the surface of circular wooden table, the center of which was green felt, though it was dusty and faded now. Along the outer edge of the felt was a compartment that went all the way around the table, deep wooden pockets. Josie imagined it would hold drinks except that the felt suggested it was used for other things as well. Cards. Gambling.
Something teased the back of her brain. Wishful thinking or instinct, it was difficult to say. Could she tell the difference anymore? This case—Turner—had her mixed up. Doubting herself. But here she was in the basement of the house Saul Vought had been renovating, with her husband, the one person she could fail spectacularly in front of and who would still love and respect her, and it felt like she had nothing to lose. Everything her colleague loved had already been lost.
She touched the smooth wood of the outer ring. It wasn’t unusual for people to have poker nights in their homes, but no one had lived here for decades and she could tell by the style and quality of the table that it was a century old, at least.
A gambling table in a century-old house out in the middle of nowhere.
“Noah,” she said. “This house was built in 1926.”
“How do you know that?” he asked patiently.
“I saw it on the property records when Gretchen and I looked this place up.” She spun away from him, using the flashlight to search the dank room. “You know what was happening in 1926?”
It only took a few seconds for him to catch up. When he said the word, there was both wonder and surprise in his voice. “Prohibition.”
He surged past her, dragging his phone out of his pocket and flipping on the flashlight app, swinging the light wildly around the basement. Josie did the same, a jolt of energy ripping through her like wildfire. They pushed furniture aside, kicked boxes out of the way, tore down shelves, fit their fingers into every seam in the walls they could find. They shouted Dani and Cassidy’s names, then stopped to listen for a response, though Josie could barely hear over the pounding of her heart and their labored breath mingling.
They were both sweaty and covered in dirt and cobwebs by the time the now-familiar doubt began to creep into Josie’sheart. The basement was huge and with all the items stored inside, labyrinthine. They needed halogen lights. Maybe they could get blueprints from City Hall. She was calculating how long that would take when her flashlight passed over several tall paintings leaning against a wall in the northwest corner of the basement. “Noah,” she called.
He made his way over to her in the near dark, panting. “What’s this?”
“Help me move them,” Josie instructed.
Together, they began sliding the pieces aside. There were six of them of varying heights. She didn’t take the time to study them. By the time they got to the last one, Noah grabbed it one-handed and flung it aside. To reveal more wall, except this wasn’t concrete. It was wood paneling.
“This is it,” Josie said excitedly, pounding a fist against it.
It felt thick and substantial but had just enough give to it that she knew they’d found what they were looking for.
A hidden speakeasy.
She screamed Dani and Cassidy’s names but there was no time to listen for a response because Noah appeared beside her with a sledgehammer. She didn’t need to ask where he’d gotten it. They’d seen countless tools during their search.
“Move,” he said.
