The flashlight on Polly’s phone cast a bit more light through the room. And the smell…what the fuck was that?
“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s so much older than I thought.”
A huge cast-iron stove dominated one wall, the kind that burned wood or coal. It was rusty, with a layer of dust over it. The cabinet doors were warped, the porcelain dishes inside just visible. There were tin canisters labeled Flour and Sugar on the counter, and a deep porcelain sink with cracks and stains.
He ran his finger over the nearest counter, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “There’s no dust.”
Polly inched beside him. “What?”
“There’s no dust on this counter.” Then he spotted the cup.
A to-go cup from Bloom.
Polly gasped when she saw it.
“Could that be Jenna’s?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Jenna orders a small. That’s a large.”
So someone else had been here. Recently, if the lack of dust was anything to go by.
Out. He needed to get Polly out of here. Every fucking instinct screamed at him that she should not be here, and that gut instinct had saved his ass too many times in the past to question it now. “We’re going.”
“Wait. Just one look.” Polly pushed through the kitchen door and stepped into another room.
Fucking hell.
He followed her. The smell got stronger. Because of the boarded-up windows, Polly’s flashlight was the only light in the room. “Polly?—”
She gasped. “Do you see that?”
He followed her gaze, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
There was a wide swath where the dust had been wiped away. And his mind immediately went to a body being dragged across these floors.
Polly started following the marks.
“Polly, we need to go.”
“There’s a hatch in the floorboard. Do you see it? Maybe for a cellar or basement. The trail leads there.” She lowered toward the door. It was so flush to the floorboards, if it wasn’t for the trail, they may have missed it.
He gripped her arm and kept her upright. “We’re leavingnow.”
“Someone might be in that basement.”
“So I’ll call my team to come check it out.”
“I need to know what’s down there. I’m not turning back now. I owe it to Jenna.”
His jaw clenched. “ThenIwill open the door. You’ll wait over there.”
She sighed and stepped back.
He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his hand to avoid leaving prints, then tugged the door open.
He smelled it before he saw it. The scent of rotting bodies, so strong it made his gut roll.
“Oh my God, that’s disgusting. What—” She pointed the flashlight toward the basement floor and gasped.
