by David Archer
“Nope,” Steve said. “They don’t usually come with hidden trap doors under them, either.” He pointed to where Walter was looking at a padlock that secured the trap door they had exposed. “No sign of a key. Jensen probably had it on a keyring, and nobody ever found this.” His face had gone pale.
Eric took a look around the kitchen, his attention suddenly drawn toward the bottom cabinet that was closest to the door. The cabinets were all intact, and he had to remove several cans of vegetables to get inside it.
"We checked the cabinets and drawers already," Steve said, watching him curiously. Eric nodded, but then opened the door and reached inside to run his fingers around where the walls of the cabinet met its floor. At first, he found nothing and was about to give up, but then his fingers caught on something near the bottom of the cabinet. Eric looked closely, then dug his nails into the narrow gap he had found and lifted upward, showing them that the cabinet had a false bottom. It was far too shallow to be of much use, unless, of course, you wanted to hide something small.
Something, perhaps, like a key. He reached inside and picked up the small, dull gray piece of metal and passed it up to Steve.
FOUR
"Nice job," Jade said appreciatively, a surprised look on her face as she accepted the key. "How did you know there would be a false bottom?"
Eric had sat back onto the floor after revealing the hidden compartment, but he said nothing. He actually wasn’t sure why he had expected to find something there, and that bothered him. It was almost like he remembered something, something he couldn’t possibly know. If there was one thing he was certain about, it was that he had never been in this place before, so how could he possibly have known about the hidden space under the cabinet?
He drew in a breath and got back to his feet, then watched as Steve knelt down and tried the key on the padlock. It opened with a loud click, and Steve and Walter lifted it up, its hinges protesting in a high-pitched squeal.
A set of stairs leading downward appeared, and Steve was the first to descend them. Walter went down next, and then Eric brought up the rear, walking cautiously down the steps behind Jade. She took out her phone and turned on its flashlight function, shining the light around as she got to the bottom. Steve had already done the same, and the light made it easy to see in the darkened space.
The room was small, only about half the size of the kitchen above it, and the ceiling was so low that Steve, who was tallest, had to duck his head down to keep from banging on the overheads, where thick insulation still separated the floor above from the space below. The walls were quite thick and made of concrete. The little room was empty of any furnishings, and there was a hole in the foundation of the house above, where light was coming into the room. Over the years, a fair amount of debris had come through that hole, as well. The floor was covered in mud and leaves and other natural debris that had blown or washed in during storms.
As they shined their lights around, they all wondered what the space had been used for.
"An old storage area?" Jade asked, her voice soft. "I wonder why the trap door was locked, when it was so well hidden."
“Probably an old root cellar,” Steve said. “People used to have a place like this to store potatoes and such, down here where it’s dark and cool. Made them last longer.”
“Chains,” Eric said suddenly. He pointed at the far wall, where a pair of chains was secured by bolts in the concrete wall under the hole where light was coming in, and Walter went over to look more closely at them. “Why are there chains bolted there?”
Steve and Jade looked at where he was pointing and their faces registered their surprise. “Chains?” Steve asked. “For what?” He swallowed hard, his eyes wide as he looked at the chains.
“He’s right,” Walter said, bending down to pick up the end of one of the chains from the moldy debris that covered the floor. It was deepest on that side, where it had piled up under the gap in the foundation. “They’re bolted into the wall.” He held up what he had found, and the other three gasped when they saw the steel band with a bolt through one side on the end of it. Walter dragged his foot through the dirt for a couple of seconds, and the end of the second chain appeared. Like the first, it had a manacle-like band of steel on one end.
“A shackle?” Jade asked. “Maybe for an animal, like a dog or...”
“No,” Steve said flatly as he went to where Walter was standing. “It’s too small for any dog that would need it, and the way it’s designed is like a leg iron.” He took the chain from Walter and stared at the shackle closely. “This was meant to hold a human, and a small one.”
Jade’s eyes were wide and she looked at Steve in shock. “A child?” she asked. “You’re saying someone kept a child down here, chained to the wall?”
Steve nodded, still looking at the shackle he was holding. “That’s how it looks to me,” he said, his voice empty of any emotion. His eyes were wide, but more like someone trying to take in what he was seeing than in any kind of surprise.
Walter was down on his knees, ignoring the dirt and mold as he felt around in it all, and he suddenly froze. He pulled out what he had found, and they all realized they were looking at a small human skull.
“He never got out,” Walter said.
Steve stared at the skull for a moment. “Oh, God,” he said, his eyes wide in shock. “He was probably here when Jensen was killed, and nobody knew, he probably starved...” A sob escaped him, and tears ran down his cheeks.
Jade shook her head, her own eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Jensen? Steve, think about what you’re saying. The beloved pastor was actually a monster who kept children imprisoned in his basement? Couldn’t this be…”
Eric was unable to tear his eyes away from the skull, and a wave of nausea passed over him. "This is where he kept his victims,” he said. “Before he was done with them."
Steve nodded slowly, forcing himself under control. “And no one knew, so no one checked to see if anyone was down here.” The tears were still flowing, and Jade reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Maybe," she said, swallowing hard. "But, Steve, we don’t know that for sure. What if this was from before he got the place? According to the files, he was only here for a few months before he was killed."
Steve took a deep breath and turned to look at her. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe. We need to get out of here. The police will need to take over down here, and the remains will have to be recovered and tested to identify the—the victim.” He looked at Walter. “Put it back where you found it, best you can.”
Walter set the skull back on the floor, and all four of them made their way back up the stairs and out of the house. Steve leaned against his car and stood there, looking back at the front door, and Jade watched him for a few seconds before taking out her cell phone and hitting a button.
“Sam?” she said. “You need to come out to Jensen’s house, and you need to bring the local crime scene techs with you. We’ve found another victim.” She listened for a moment, and then said sadly, “Yeah. It looks like Pastor Jensen may have kidnapped a child, and we found remains in a hidden cellar under the house.”
Eric was leaning against the SUV when Jade came to him a moment later. He was looking up at the sky, steadfastly refusing to look at the house itself.
“Eric,” Jade said, “I need to ask you something.”
Eric nodded. “You want to know how I knew where the key was,” he said softly, but then he shook his head. “The trouble is, I honestly don’t know. It just suddenly reminded me of a story I read once. In that story, there was a trap door under the stove, and that’s where the key to the trap door was hidden. Under the cabinet next to it.” He looked into her eyes. “But it was just a story.”
* * *
Sam and the others arrived fifteen minutes later, accompanied by Detective Franklin and two people who made up Boulder’s crime scene investigations unit. Steve started to lead them into the house, but Sam caught him by the arm.
“Steve?” He tilted his head toward side of the house, calling him aside. The former detective raised an eyebrow in surprise, but turned and followed Sam as Jade led the rest of them inside and to the trap door.
“Sam?” Steve asked when they were out of earshot. “What’s up?”
Ignoring Steve's questions, Sam stopped and just looked at him in silence for a moment, until Steve began to get irritated.
"Come on, Sam. What's this about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Reverend Martin Jensen," Sam said simply. "Is there something you might want to tell me? About your connection to this case?"
Steve looked him in the eye without flinching. "What about it?"
"Oh, come on, Steve,” Sam said, his eyes narrowed. “Indie found the records. I know that your little boy, Scott, was kidnapped, and I know that you knew Jensen from when he was living in Golden. You thought we wouldn’t find out? Or were you just waiting for the right time to tell me?"
There was a moment of hard-eyed silence between them, a battle of wills between a pair of strong and stubborn men. It went on for almost a minute, but then Steve sighed and closed his eyes wearily as he slumped against a nearby tree trunk. The anger slowly faded from Sam's face as he got a glimpse of a part of his old friend that he had never seen before: a heartbroken, grieving father.
"Do the others…"
"They don't know anything, yet," Sam answered quietly. "I told Indie not to say anything to anyone else, but any one of them could stumble across it if they dig deep enough."
Steve nodded vaguely as if he wasn't really paying attention, rubbing a hand across his eyes before raising his head to face Sam again. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before," he started, "but you need to understand that it’s a very private thing. It took a hell of a long time for me to come to grips with it.” He shrugged. “We never found him, Sam. The police never even had a suspect to look at, not a single one. Jensen was the pastor of the church Edith and I went to back then. That’s how I knew him, but I didn’t think it mattered in this case.” He looked toward the house. “At least, not until now.”
Sam stood there and studied Steve’s face for a moment. "Is that everything?" he asked at last, a frown on his own face. "You're not leaving anything else out?"
Steve shook his head. “No, that’s it. I’m sorry, Sam, I just didn’t—I just didn’t want to live through it all again.”
Sam let out a sigh and just looked at his friend. "I'm sorry I came at you so hard," he said. "It took me by surprise, that’s all, and when Jade called and said you’d found a child’s remains...”
Steve grimaced. "I should have brought it up," he said after a moment’s silence. "God, Sam, I guess I didn't see the point. I honestly didn’t think it could have any bearing on this case. Personal emotion wasn’t an issue, not with me. Hell, especially after all these years."
Sam hesitated, the lines of his face growing deeper as he kept silent on the thoughts that were racing through his mind. Steve watched him for a moment, unsure of what had his friend so uncomfortable.
Suddenly it dawned on him, and his eyes went wide."Sam," he said sharply. “You can’t be thinking I did this...”
"Of course not," Sam said smoothly, keeping his face straight. "I’m not accusing you of being a killer, Steve, I’m pretty sure I know you better than that. The thing is, according to what Indie found, your son disappeared a few months before Jensen moved here to Boulder, and just a few months after that, Jensen was beaten to death by someone letting out a lot of rage. I’d probably be a fool if I didn’t wonder if maybe…."
Steve narrowed his eyes. "If I found out somehow that Jensen was the one who took my son, and I came up here to kill him for revenge." He paused, considering his next words before forcing them out. "Sam, do you believe that?”
"I didn't say that," Sam said evenly. "But now that we are on the subject, why don't you tell me? Did you kill him, Steve? It sure as hell wouldn’t be hard to understand if you did, if you found out he took your son from you, after all. I’m not saying it was planned or premeditated, I’m just asking if you figured out who did it and came to question him, then lost control. Like I said, it would be understandable. It still wouldn’t be right, but it would be understandable."
"Sam, listen to me," Steve said, his voice cold and unable to hold back the tears that began streaming down his cheeks once again. "I didn't kill Martin Jensen. Sure, I'd like to know who did, and if it turns out that’s my son’s skull down there, I can’t even swear I wouldn’t shake his hand." His face twisted into a grief-stricken grimace. "But if you stop to think for a minute, you’ll know I didn't kill him. Think about it; wouldn’t I be doing something to try to deflect you from finding out about this? Wouldn’t I be trying to derail the investigation if I was the killer we were looking for?"
Sam relaxed and managed a small grin. "Steve, I really didn’t think you killed him," he admitted. "But, after Indie told me what she found, and then Jade’s phone call, I just needed to be sure."
"So you accuse me of murder," Steve said, anger and pain in his voice. He made a great effort to get himself under control again. "I'm not saying I don’t understand, Sam, but we could have talked about this without you coming at me like Batman, you know?"
"What was I supposed to think?" Sam asked, his voice rising a bit. "You held back information on the case, Steve, information we needed to know! Why would you expect someone to do that unless maybe, just maybe, they had something to hide?"
"Maybe because it was something I didn't want you or the team to know!" Steve shouted.
A softly cleared throat caught their attention, and they turned toward it.
"Uh, guys?" Eric said nervously. "Is everything okay? You been getting kinda loud out here."
Sam and Steve struggled for a moment to rein their emotions back in, both of them frustrated that they had gotten so upset that they forgot to keep their voices down.
"Everything's okay," Steve said, glancing at Sam as he turned and headed toward the house again. "Sorry to disturb you. We just had a mild disagreement."
Eric looked doubtful, but decided not to ask any questions; he stood aside for Steve, then shot Sam a curious, wide-eyed look before following the pair of them into the house again.
FIVE
Detective Franklin looked up as they entered. He was standing over the trap door in the kitchen floor, listening to the CSI techs in the cellar below, and his face was pale.
“Definitely a child,” one of them said. “Based on the forehead and jaw, I’d say it appears to be a male around 5 to 7 years old.”
Steve was standing beside Franklin, and closed his eyes tightly. Sam laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and Steve turned his face slightly toward him.
“Thank you,” he said. “God, Sam, what if that’s…”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Sam said. “Just wait, they’ll be able to identify the remains.”
“I just hate to think of Scotty being down there in the dark, maybe even hearing the violence that was happening just over his head. He was such a gentle child, Sam.”
Franklin had turned and was watching them. “Prichard,” he said. “Am I missing something?”
Sam looked at him. “Mr. Beck’s young son was abducted about twenty-five years ago,” he said. “He also knew Pastor Jensen from back in Golden, before he moved here. Naturally, he can’t help wondering if the remains found down there could be those of his son, Scott.”
Franklin met Sam’s eyes for a second more, then turned to look at Steve. “Was Jensen a suspect?”
Steve shook his head. “No,” he said. “We never had any suspects. Scotty disappeared out of his bedroom in the middle of the night, and we were never able to find any leads at all.”
Franklin nodded. “Okay. Well, I’m genuinely sorry for your loss. We’ll know something soon, once we can run a DNA analysis. We’ve been sending stuff to Crawford Labs in Denver, they generally get results back to us within a d
ay or two.”
“But at least we’ll know,” Steve finished for him. “I think that’s the worst thing, the not knowing. All these years, I’ve held out hope that maybe Scotty was out there somewhere, but that just—that just makes it harder to let it go, to put it in the back of your mind. If I knew he was dead, at least the wondering would be over.”
Franklin looked at him, and licked his lips before turning to look down into the cellar again. Sam caught the gesture and looked closely at him.
“Franklin? You okay?” he asked.
Franklin shrugged. “I was the first officer on the scene when the neighbor called this in,” he said slowly. “I’m the one who found Jensen.” He turned and looked Sam in the eye. “I can’t help wondering if that child was alive down there right then. What if he was down there, and slowly starved to death because I didn’t know he was there?”
Sam nodded sympathetically. “You were just a rookie officer, right? Franklin, this isn’t on you. Whoever checked out the crime scene should have found that trap door back then, but nobody did. Yeah, it’s possible this kid was alive, but if he wasn’t making any noise, there was no reason for you to suspect he was there. You can’t let this break you down.”
“I just wish I’d had some idea,” Franklin said. “Maybe I could have been an actual hero, brought this little boy home safe.” He glanced over at Steve. “If it is his son, he’s never going to forgive me.”
* * *
The crime scene technicians came up out of the cellar twenty minutes later, bringing up the bones they had found in a large plastic container. Sam, Steve and the rest of the Windlass team were standing around the kitchen with Franklin and the two uniforms who had come with him.
“You done down there?” Franklin asked.
The lead tech, whose name was Borden, nodded. “We’re done for now,” he said. “We recovered the remains of one human male, a child. We also found some rotted clothing and shoes, as well as—well, his hair.”