A couple of minutes later, the police car, with Officer Nelson behind the wheel, drove past them and disappeared down the lonely country road. My aunt and uncle paused for only a moment before, once again, resuming their march.
But where, exactly, were they going? I turned to Joel and asked, "You said you saw their car?"
"Yeah. Maybe a quarter-mile up the road."
I gave a weary sigh. "Well, at least they're working harder for it."
Now, in the aftermath of that whole sorry spectacle, it struck me that nearly nothing had been accomplished. True, I had gotten my stuff back, but that wouldn't solve the bigger problem.
Not only would they surely be back. They'd probably be back sooner than I dared to hope. There was a time, not too long ago, when they came by only once a month. Now, they were showing up every few days.
Things were getting worse, not better.
And worst of all, I had no way to stop them, because I still had no idea how they were getting in. Tonight, I might've finally found out, if it weren't for Bishop butting in at the worst possible time.
With another sigh, I turned and headed back into the house. Joel's brother or not, Bishop deserved a word or two about that, and I was determined to give it to him.
Chapter 48
I gave Bishop an annoyed look. "Why'd you do that?"
"Do what?" he asked.
"Tell me to give it up." I turned to Joel and said, "Now I'll never know."
He said, "You mean how they're getting in?"
I nodded. "That was one of the reasons I didn't press charges. I was hoping they'd tell me."
From somewhere behind me, Jake gave a derisive snort.
I whirled to face him. "What?"
He was now leaning against the inside of the front door. "They weren't gonna tell you jack."
"Oh yeah?" I crossed my arms. "Why not?"
"Because you called the police."
"What's wrong with calling the police?"
"Nothing," he said. "If you're a sucker."
I stared at him. Talk about rude.
Next to me, Joel said, "Hey dickweed. No one asked you."
"Wrong," Jake said. "She asked me. Didn't you hear?" He grinned. "Or were you too busy checking out her legs?"
On instinct, I looked down. My shorts were definitely on the skimpy side, which meant that a lot of leg was showing. Maybe even too much. But in my own defense, I hadn't been expecting a houseful of people.
And now, I was blushing. Of course.
I turned my nervous gaze to Joel. He was looking at Jake in a way that made me wonder if a fight might break out any minute now.
I looked back to Jake. The idiot was still grinning, even in the face of Joel's hostility. Was Jake goading him? It sure looked that way.
In frustration, I looked to Bishop. He was their brother, too. Shouldn’t he be doing something to diffuse this?
My gaze narrowed. Apparently not. He wasn't even paying attention. Instead, he was scrolling through his cell phone, acting like everything was just fine.
I said, "What are you doing?"
"Waiting"
"For what?" I asked.
He looked up. "For them to finish."
"Finish what?" I said. "Fighting?"
He looked utterly unconcerned. "They're not gonna fight."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"Because Joel wants you to think he's civilized."
I gave a little shake of my head. "What?"
Bishop looked back to his phone. "Hard to look civilized when you're beating the hell out of your own brother."
I snuck a quick glance at Joel and paused. He still had that same ominous look, except now, it was aimed at Bishop. "The question is," Joel said, "which brother first."
From the door, Jake gave a derisive laugh. "Take your pick. But no one's beating the hell out of me."
Joel said, "You sure about that?"
"Hell yeah," Jake said. He turned his attention back to Bishop. "And who says he'd win?"
Again, Bishop lifted his gaze from his phone. He looked from Jake to Joel, as if considering the question.
Unable to stop myself, I looked, too, trying to see what he saw. Both guys were both tall and muscular, with a certain attitude that I couldn’t quite place. If I were a guy, I wouldn’t want to face off with either one of them.
Finally, Bishop said. "My money?" He looked to Jake. "Sorry, it's on Joel."
"Your ass," Jake said, sounding almost insulted now. "Why him?"
Bishop only shrugged. "Because he's motivated."
"And me?" Jake said.
Bishop looked back to his phone. "You're just dicking around."
I looked back to Joel. He did look motivated – to kill both of his brothers and bury the bodies in the back yard.
I couldn't say I blamed him. In fact, I was feeling pretty motivated myself. And, I had a nice supply of shovels in the shed out back.
Bishop pushed away from the wall and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He looked to me and said, "As far as your visitors…"
"Which visitors?" I asked. "Officer Nelson? Or my aunt and uncle?"
He gave me a deadpan look. "You got the police breaking in, too?"
Just great. Sarcasm. My favorite. I looked to Joel.
In a tight voice, he said, "What my brother's trying to say, is that he knows how they're getting in."
Chapter 49
I looked from brother to brother. "Are you serious?" I zoomed in on Joel. "You really know?"
He shook his head. "Sorry. Not me." He flicked his head toward Bishop. "Him."
I looked to Bishop. "How would you know?"
"Because I looked."
The answer seemed woefully inadequate. I'd looked, too, several times, in fact. But there were so many things in play – the locks, the alarm system, the windows, the doors. Just last year, I'd had everything checked. I'd even changed the locks – not that it had done a bit of good.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Is that why you told me to give it up? Because you think you know?"
"I don't think I know," Bishop said. "I know I know."
Desperately, I wanted to believe him. And I was dying to hear his theory. But first, I had a different question. I turned to Joel and said, "Is that why you stopped me from pushing the issue?"
"What'd you think?" he said. "That we'd just shrug it off otherwise?"
Actually, I did think that, but I hated the idea of saying so. So instead, I asked, "But if you personally didn't know how they were getting in, how did you know that he knew?"
"Bishop?" Joel said. "I knew, because he told you to give it up."
Trying to make sense of everything, I looked again to Bishop. "But if you knew at the time, why didn't you just say so?"
"When you see it, you'll understand."
I had no idea what he meant. All I knew was that it would've been really nice to prove my aunt and uncle wrong, right there on the spot, and more importantly, in front of the police. But it was no use arguing about it now. My relatives were gone – thank goodness – and so was Officer Nelson.
So all I said was, "Alright. So tell me. What's your theory?"
"A theory, huh?" He looked to Joel. "You've got a cynical one on your hands."
"I'm not cynical," I told him. I turned to Joel and asked, "You don't think I'm cynical, do you?"
"If you ask me," he said, "you're not cynical enough."
I turned to Bishop. "See?"
Bishop looked unimpressed. "You think that's a compliment? Now c'mon, lemme show you."
He motioned me and Joel toward the kitchen while Jake waited near the front door, just in case company showed up, whatever that meant.
A few minutes later, I was staring at a door that I hadn't seen open in years. It was the door to the wine cellar. And it was open now.
How on Earth had that happened?
For the first time in forever, I peered down the cellar stairway. It looked the same as I remembered. Trying to make sens
e of this, I pulled back to give the cellar door a closer look. It didn't look damaged or anything – so that was good.
I gave Bishop a perplexed look. "How'd you do that?"
"Do what?" he asked.
I pointed to the open door. "That."
He followed my gaze. "The lock?" He shrugged. "That thing was a piece of junk."
I couldn't quite believe it. The lock was a big, steel deadbolt. It required a key, which I didn't even have. Wondering how the lock looked from the other side, I stepped through the open doorway to check it out.
From inside the cellar, the lock had just a regular twist mechanism, which meant that getting out of the cellar would be a lot easier than getting in.
No doubt, it was a safety measure, designed to prevent anyone from getting locked inside. But I still didn't know what this had to do with my aunt and uncle. Trying to make sense of it, I stepped back into the hall and said, "So what are you saying? They were hiding in the wine cellar?"
Bishop shook his head. "No. I'm saying they came in through the wine cellar."
"But they couldn’t," I said. "It's just a cellar. It doesn't go anywhere."
He gave me a look. "You sure about that?"
I'd grown up in this house. Until the last few years, I'd been in that cellar plenty of times. There was no other exit.
My shoulders sagged in disappointment. So much for Bishop's theory. "Sorry," I said, "but I'm sure." Trying not to sound as deflated as I felt, I said, "But thanks for trying though."
Bishop made a scoffing sound. "And you say you're not cynical." He flicked his head toward the open cellar door. "You wanna go first?"
I moved forward, only to feel a hand on my elbow. It was Joel's hand, and I turned to give him a questioning look.
He smiled. "Sorry, but he was talking to me."
"But why you?" I asked. It was my cellar, after all.
"Because," Joel said, "if anyone comes in, they'll be facing me, not you."
The sentiment was so sweet and chivalrous that I couldn’t help but smile. Still, I had to point out the obvious. "But no one's coming in."
"We'll see." Joel moved toward the cellar door and flicked on the lights. "C'mon. Humor me."
So I did. With Joel in the lead and Bishop following behind us, we took the steps downward until they ended in a decidedly upscale cellar.
I glanced around. It looked the same as I remembered, with its ornate tile flooring, rows of recessed ceiling lights, several burgundy armchairs, and a natural color scheme that made it look more like a fashionable smoking room than anyone's basement.
Surrounding the small sitting area, I spotted the familiar rows of big, wooden racks. Most of the racks were packed with bottles of wine, nestled into individual wooden cubbies. In passing, I had to wonder, how much was all of this worth?
No doubt, it had some value. But it couldn’t be a fortune. After all, most of the bottles had come from a winery just a few counties away.
Still, it did look impressive. That had to count for something, right?
Bishop said. "You see it?"
"See what?" I asked.
It was Joel who answered. "That." I looked to see him pointing at something on the far wall. I followed his gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary – just a regular wine rack, even if it was empty.
I gave him a confused look. "That's always been empty." I knew this for a fact, because when I'd been younger, I'd stored countless things in those empty wooden cubbies – dolls, markers, bananas.
"Forget the rack," Bishop said. "Look at the floor."
I moved forward to get a closer look. And then, I spotted them, faint footprints on the tile floor, like someone had recently come through with damp or dusty shoes.
I felt my eyebrows furrow. The footprints seemed to pass straight through the wine rack, as if it weren't even there. But that didn't make any sense. The rack was positioned against an external wall. There was nothing behind it, well, except for earth, anyway.
I turned and gave Bishop a questioning look.
"Step back," he said.
When I did, he moved forward and reached above the rack. Something clicked, and the whole rack swung inward, leaving us staring at a dark, mostly empty space. Squinting through the shadows, I saw cinder-block walls and a cylinder-shaped tank in the far corner.
I was utterly confused, until I heard it – the low sound of waves, lapping against an unseen shore. And then, I understood. I was looking at the inside of the old pump-house, which was located just down the bluff from my home.
I recalled how the pump-house looked from the outside. It was a small shed-like building with a cinder-block exterior, two small windows just below the roof-line, and a thick, wooden door that was always locked.
I'd never been inside the pump-house, but I had seen my dad enter it a time or two. Now, I watched as Joel stepped into the darkened space and looked around.
A moment later, he motioned for me to join him. I did, and together, we studied the secret doorway from the external vantage point.
From the other side of the doorway, Bishop said, "Hang on." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a penlight. He clicked it on, and offered it to me through the opening. "I'm gonna shut this, so you can see how it works from that side."
A moment later, the rack swung forward, closing the gap and leaving us in near darkness. Together, Joel and I studied the closed passageway. From here, it didn't look like a wine-rack at all. Instead, it looked like a wide, wooden shelving unit, almost like a bookcase.
Some of the shelves even had things on them. Running the beam of light across its surface, I saw a couple of metal boxes and a few random tools. On the wall that surrounded the shelving unit, thick wooden trim made the illusion complete.
If I were unfamiliar with the setup, I'd see nothing out of the ordinary.
I looked to Joel. "What do you think?"
He smiled in the dim light. "I think it's cool as hell." He reached out and pulled me close. "But forget that." His voice was soft in my ear. "I missed you." His voice grew intense. "You have no idea."
Actually, I did. I smiled against his chest. "I missed you, too."
"If we were alone," he said, "I'd show you how much."
I couldn’t resist teasing, "Actually, we are alone."
He squeezed me tighter. "Not alone enough."
I couldn’t argue with that. As I stood there, in his arms, listening to the muted sounds of the unseen waves, everything felt a million times better than I ever would've dreamed. Joel was here, and somehow, we'd work everything out.
On top of that, I'd finally have a way to stop my aunt and uncle from popping in whenever they wanted. I could add some new locks or maybe, just move something heavy in front of the secret passage, to prevent the wine rack from swinging inward.
Either way, those annoying raids would finally be a thing of the past.
But that wasn't the primary reason I was happy. Holding me like he'd never let go, Joel felt warm and hard, and too wonderful for words. I burrowed closer and said, "So I'm curious. Did you get everything worked out?"
"Hell yeah."
I pulled back to gaze up at him. "Really?"
"Really." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against my forehead. "I've got a lot to tell you."
"Good news? Or bad?"
His hands caressed my back. "That depends."
It wasn't quite the answer I was hoping for. "On what?"
His voice was nearly a caress. "You."
"Why me?"
"Lemme back up," he said. "Your news? It's all good. So don't worry, okay?"
"What do you mean my news?"
"I love you." His eyes held the hint of mischief. "And if you don't love me back? Well, that's bad news for me, right?"
I had to laugh. "Oh stop it. You know I love you." I rolled my eyes. "I must, right?"
"That's what I'm counting on." His expression turned serious. "Just so you know, I'm not messing around. I do love you. And I'll alw
ays love you, no matter what you say."
I wasn't sure what that meant, but I really liked the sounds of it. When he once again pulled me close, I let my eyelids drift shut and simply savored the joy of being close to him.
In spite of all my questions, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away – at least, not until Bishop's amused voice broke into my thoughts. "Should I come back later?"
My eyes flew open, and I pulled back. As I did, the penlight slipped from my grasp and clattered to the cement floor. Funny, I hadn't even realized that I was still holding it.
I looked down. The light was still on, thank goodness. In front of me, Joel bent down and picked it up, and then, slapped the penlight into Bishop's hand with more force than necessary.
Bishop gave a low laugh. "Hey, I was just asking."
Chapter 50
When the three of us returned upstairs, I was still reeling from the discovery. On our way back through the cellar, I'd grabbed a random bottle of wine, and was planning to get started on it right away.
All things considered, I definitely needed it.
I'd already mentioned what I knew of the house's history, focusing on the fact that it had been built by a Chicago bootlegger during the height of prohibition.
Afterward, we all agreed that the secret passage made a lot of sense. The narrow beach beyond the pump house would be the perfect place to launch a small boat – or to reach a larger one by dinghy.
From there, it would be a straight shot to Chicago, crossing over Lake Michigan.
As for my relatives, they wouldn’t even need a boat. They'd just need a lack of scruples and knowledge of the secret entrance. I couldn’t help but wonder, had my parents known about the entrance, too? And if so, why didn't they tell me?
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. The whole secret passageway would've been a huge temptation, especially to a kid. And just beyond that passageway were slippery rocks, a narrow beach, and endless water.
If that wasn't a safety hazard, I didn't know what was.
Now, standing in the kitchen, Joel and Bishop were discussing the mechanics of the passageway and how it might be secured. While they talked, I retrieved a corkscrew and some wine glasses from a far cupboard.
Something True (Joel Bishop Book 2) Page 19