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My eyes had already found it.

The floor.

One set of footprints.

Old.

Very old.

Leading toward the far wall.

Then disappearing.

"Mace."

He followed my flashlight.

"There."

The wall looked solid.

Until he ran his hand across the rough stone.

One section sounded different.

Hollow.

Wolf joined us.

"Hidden compartment?"

"Maybe."

Will photographed everything.

Only then did Mace push against the stones.

Nothing happened.

Trigger tried.

Still nothing.

Sheriff Tate stepped closer.

"My grandfather used to talk about bootleggers using tunnels around town."

Carson looked around.

"This isn't a tunnel."

"No."

Sheriff Tate frowned.

"It's a storage room."

"For what?"