At last she spoke up. 'Do you really think it’s a good idea to go down there, Jake?' she asked tentatively, not trusting her own feelings to protest any harder.
'We checked it out pretty thoroughly this afternoon. That tunnel is hewn from solid rock. There’s no danger of it collapsing on us,' he replied, misunderstanding her reason for caution.
Katelynn couldn’t find a way to voice her concern without looking silly and superstitious, so she let the matter drop. Mentally, she sought some rational explanation for the fear that was rapidly spreading through her, but found that none existed. Something was going to happen when they went down there, something awful. She knew it; could feel it in her bones.
While Katelynn struggled to identify her feelings, Jake and Sam quickly agreed to meet the next morning just before seven. After that, the gathering broke up quickly.
The ride home with Sam passed in silence. When they pulled into her drive and he walked her to her door, she tried once more. 'You guys really ought to just leave things alone and let Blake hire some professionals to investigate that tunnel. What if it’s unsafe and the two of you get trapped down there?'
Sam sighed. 'We’re not going to get trapped, Katelynn. You heard Jake. That tunnel has been standing for a long time. One more day isn’t going to make a difference; it’s not going to suddenly come tumbling down around our ears. You’re just jealous that you can’t go with us because you have class in the morning.' He chuckled, not recognizing the depths of her fear. 'Go on, get inside,' he said. 'We’ll tell you all about it at lunch tomorrow. We’ll be fine. You’ll see.' With a wave he turned away down the steps.
Katelynn was still standing there, watching, as the taillights of his car disappeared around the curve at the end of her street.
In the darkness, she shivered.
Chapter Five: Halloran
As Jake was telling his friends about that afternoon’s discovery, across town another type of celebration was going on.
Kyle Halloran was getting drunk. He sat at the bar in Mikey’s Place, his oversized frame dwarfing the padded stool, his thick, meaty hands wrapped around a frosted mug of beer, his ninth of the night.
His craggy, square-jawed face reflected the emotions roiling there just beneath the surface. He sat there, dressed in the same sweat-stained T-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing all day while working under the hot sun, and let the anger swell inside him like gas in an overripe corpse.
Fuck Jake! he thought savagely. Bust my ass all day long for the guy and does he show any gratitude? Hell, no!
He slammed the mug up to his lips, drunkenly unaware that the glass cracked against his teeth. He took a long swallow, finishing off the drink.
The first time I ask for a raise and what do I get? 'Sorry, Halloran, you’re just not working hard enough for me to give you one yet,' he mimicked in a high squeaky voice.
Halloran slapped several bills down on the counter and stumbled out into the night air. The cool crispness cut through the beer-induced haze, sharpening his anger. Insisting on a raise earlier in the day had gotten him fired. Now, as Halloran stumbled off down the street, barely conscious of where he was going, his thoughts turned to how he could pay Jake back for his prejudice against him.
After considering several plans, each of which involved physical damage to Jake himself, Kyle stopped for a moment under a streetlamp, trying to discern just where he was. The sign before him read 'Lamplighter Lane', and it took him several moments to realize that he had wandered in the opposite direction of his apartment.
'Shit!' he swore into the darkness, turning to go back.
As he turned, the peak of a house caught his eye as it rose over the tree line to his left.
It was the Blake estate once known as Stonemoor, the very place he’d been working for the last several weeks. Seeing it brought his thoughts of revenge back into focus, and a plan began to form. He’d heard something that afternoon that he could use against Caruso.
Something about the cellar…
Then he had it. A secret passage! Cantellis’ crew had found a secret passage down in the cellar. Joey Henderson had told him about it at lunch that afternoon. He’d barely heard him at the time and now he wished he had listened more closely. Hadn’t he said something about it leading to some kind of secret room, a storage room, or a …
A treasure vault.
The idea took sudden hold. Why else would somebody build a room underground that nobody could get to? That had to be it!
It took only a moment for him to make up his mind about what to do with the information. When opportunity knocks, only a fool doesn’t answer, he thought, and I am no fool. Right here in front of me is a way to screw Caruso over and get rich at the same time.
He glanced around, satisfying himself that no one was watching, and then set off through the woods in the direction of the estate.
Ten minutes later he was crouched by the corner of the supply shed by the side of the house. A quick survey of the area assured him that that idiot, Caruso, hadn’t hired a night watchman. Just shows how stupid he really is, Kyle thought wryly. He stepped out of hiding and over to the shed. Reaching out, he tried the door.
Locked.
No matter. He knew how to deal with the situation. Kyle wandered around to the back of the mansion to where the construction crews had been discarding the wood and metal pieces they’d been replacing inside the house. From the pile he selected a piece of iron about the length of his forearm.
Halloran returned to the shed and forced the point of the pole into the opening between the doorjamb and the hasp of the lock. One strong heave and the door swung open with a muffled crack. Kyle stepped inside. It took only a few moments to gather the supplies he needed: a couple of heavy-duty flashlights, a pickaxe, and a shovel.
The mansion’s front door gave more easily than the trailer’s had. Once inside he flipped on one of the flashlights to light the way. The mansion was set back a good way from the road and who in their right mind would come out here at this time of the night? It was creepy enough in the daylight, never mind at night. Goosebumps rose on his arms the moment he stepped inside.
He found the steps to the cellar and descended into the darkened basement. He crossed the floor, the damp muck sucking at his heels, the darkness surrounding him, pressing in at him from all sides.
If he’d been sober, he might have noticed the heavy silence that enveloped the house in its smothering embrace. He might have noticed the air of tense expectation that filled the spaces between that silence like a living entity, making the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention.
But he remained blissfully unaware.
The dark maw of the staircase leading underground suddenly loomed in the floor before him, and he jerked himself to a stop, almost stumbling down the steps. The gloom from the tunnel mouth seemed thicker than the darkness around him and he shone his light down the steps, cutting through it with the precision of a scalpel. Dust motes swirled in the beam and he could see where the passing of others earlier in the day had disturbed the thick layer of dust on the floor.
A vague sense of unease slowly seeped its way through his pores. He had the sudden feeling that someone was watching and he turned quickly, shining the light back across the room in the direction he’d come.
The room was empty.
For a moment he toyed with the idea of giving up this crazy scheme and going home. Visions of gold danced before his eyes and the notion was soon forgotten. He’d come this far. There was no stopping now, he thought.
Taking a deep breath, he strode down the steps into the darkness below.
In Room 310, the old man lay trapped in that twilight realm that hovered between sleeping and wakefulness.
