Frustrated, he went into the hallway to rip things out of the linen closet he’d passed on the way in and check the back wall. He felt every inch. No hidden crevices.
He thought about the condo layout from an elevated view. This closet backed up to the main closet, but there wasn’t a bump-out in the main closet to accommodate this one. The builders would’ve had to build out the wall in the main bedroom and put the closet in front of it.
Had they created a hidden storage area, or had they been lazy, not wanting to deal with the extra framing cuts that a bump-out required?
Eager now, Ian ran back through the main bedroom to the closet and estimated where the void would be located.
A unit with slanted shelves holding a variety of colorful sneakers took up the space. He shook it, and the wood under his hand moved a fraction. The other cabinets had felt more solid. This section could simply be poorly installed, or he could be on to something.
He swept all of the shoes onto the floor and felt around and over the shelves. He tugged on the middle shelf, and the wood rose in his hand.
The unit slid out and pivoted, revealing a door. Holding his breath, he pressed the top corner. The door popped open.
“Got something,” he called to Londyn.
He heard her hurrying down the hallway to the closet, and he felt around the wall for a light switch.
“A secret storage area,” he said, still feeling the inside wall for a light switch. “Flagg Sr. gave the condo to Junior. He remodeled it so his dad could’ve built this in. Gotta wonder what the old man hid here.”
Ian couldn’t find a switch. Frustrated, he tapped the flashlight on his phone and ran the beam over the room.
He sucked in a breath, and Londyn gasped behind him.
“This can’t be real, can it?” she asked and moved closer.
“It’s real, all right.” Ian’s gaze roved over the items pinned on the wall. “And it looks like we had things wrong. All wrong.”
As the sun made a dash for the horizon outside Malone’s big picture window, she contemplated making dinner, but she grabbed a utility knife from her tool bag instead. She’d finished the boxes in the garage, and she needed to fix the half wall before she could put her house on the market.
After all, there was no point in taking the wall down now. She had to remove and replace the section of drywall she’d already smashed. She’d never done drywall, but she’d watched tons of home improvement shows. How hard could it be? She would need to take down the entire piece of sheetrock to get a nice straight edge to affix the fresh piece against.
She found the seam and sliced the board.
Satisfied she wouldn’t damage the abutting piece of wallboard, she jerked off a large piece. It released quickly, and she fell back. She laughed at her clumsiness and got back on her knees to assess her work. In the corner of the cavity, she spotted a zipper storage bag.
What in the world? Maybe her dad put a time capsule in the wall before he closed it up.
She tugged out the bag and held it up. She spotted a knife—a knife glistening in the light with what looked like dried blood.
She lurched back, keeping her gaze on the knife as if it might free itself and harm her.
Taking a deep breath, she looked in the cavity again and drew out a woman’s bloodied blouse in another bag, and a yellowed newspaper that was folded beside it.
She read the headline.Woman Brutally Murdered on Running Path.
A photo of a path wandering through a park accompanied the story. She recognized the path. The trail ran through a park less than a mile from her home.
Stomach clenching, she read the details. Twenty-one-year-old Sarah Anderson had been viciously stabbed in the mid-nineties. Less than six months before the brutal murder, Malone’s family had moved to this neighborhood. She’d never heard anything about it, but she’d been six at the time.
She did remember her parents telling her and Reed not to go to the park alone. The warning was always accompanied with a stranger-danger message.
Junior’s dad had owned this place before her parents. Had he or his wife murdered Sarah Anderson? Had her father found these items when he opened the wall, and was that why he’d been going to see the detective? But then, why would he have closed the items back in the wall? Why not just take them to the detective? Maybe he didn’t want to touch or disturb anything like she’d done. Or he could’ve closed it up so she and Reed didn’t see what he’d found.
The skin on her neck prickled, and she dropped the newspaper to grab her phone. She dialed Ian. The call went to voicemail.
“What are you doing? I need you.” She left a message for him to call her right back.
She tapped her foot, waiting for nearly thirty minutes for him to call, each minute her heart racing faster and faster until she thought it would explode if she had to wait any longer. She had to go to the precinct. Hopefully either Ian or Londyn or even their lieutenant were there.
