“Tell that to my stomach. It dropped to my toes. Let go of my shirt, please. You’ve got skin.”
Cami released her shirt, but she stayed so close to Harley that they could have been wearing the same shoes.
Finally Harley reached the bottom of the stairs, and stood indecisively. Except for the thin light coming through the open door, it was dark as a grave. That thought made her shiver again.
“Isn’t there a light down here?” Cami asked plaintively.
“I should know? You’re the one who found the door.”
“Maybe the light’s upstairs. That’d make sense. To have the switch up there, I mean.”
“Right. It would. Go check.”
“No! I mean, maybe both of us should go.”
Cami sounded shaky. Somehow, that made Harley feel better. Being scared alone was never a good thing. Having company in terror made it bearable.
“Okay. We’ll both go. If you’ll, uh, just give me room to turn around here . . . ”
They’d made it three steps back up when the light from the opening flickered, and both of them looked up. A shadow blotted out the light, then grew bigger as the door began to close.
“No,” Harley yelled, “stop!”
She charged up two more steps with Cami clinging to her back like a baby possum, and got almost to the top just as the door slammed shut with a solid thunk. Everything went black as pitch.
“Oh, help,” said Cami.
“Oh, shit,” said Harley.
Seven
Harley felt her way up the last step and tried the door. It didn’t budge. There was no knob, no release catch. Just smooth wood.
“Dammit all,” she said irritably, “another self-locking door. Why do they make these things? Hey! Is anyone out there? Hey!” She pounded on the door until her hand hurt.
Cami’s voice came from close by, sounding really faint. “Harley?”
“Yeah?”
“I have to pee.”
Harley leaned against the locked door and sighed. “Of course. Well, give me a minute to find the key—uh oh. Never mind. I’ll pick it. I still have my pick. Thank God for a father with a slightly criminal turn of mind. He likes being prepared for all emergencies.”
“Good.” Cami’s teeth chattered, a weird sound in the velvety blackness that swallowed them. After a moment, she said, “Think this is how Jonah felt?”
“Jonah who?”
“You know. The guy swallowed by a whale.”
“Good God, Cami.” Harley felt along the wood, fingers tracing the lintel and frame, down one side, then the other, feeling for the lock. There had to be one. If there was one on the outside, there was one on the inside. That’s the way it went.
“Of course, there would have been the ocean,” Cami said in a reflective tone, “and ribs. A tongue. A heartbeat. Whales are mammals. It would have been warm in there.”
“Not to mention halitosis from all the dead fish. Cami, you’re scaring me. Get a grip. You’re regressing back to junior high.”
“Junior high?”
“Sister Mary Margaret. All those Bible stories she used to tell us. Third period. Right before lunch, remember?”
“How do you remember things like that? I have trouble remembering what I ate yesterday and you remember what period we had lunch in junior high school.”
“I can’t remember what I ate yesterday. I only remember Sister Mary Margaret because she made the stories interesting. And she didn’t tell on me when I snuck out early on the days they had chocolate cake in the cafeteria.”
Cami laughed. It was a nice sound. Harley smiled in the darkness. At least one of them felt a little better. She didn’t want to scare Cami, but she couldn’t find the lock. There had to be one. How could there not be one? Locks on doors generally went all the way through. Anyone who built a storm shelter or basement and didn’t put a lock on the inside was just asking for a lot of trouble. Unless . . . no, that was ridiculous. Why would Aunt Darcy be involved? Yet she’d never mentioned the basement as a possible place to look for stolen goods.
Damn, she hated what she was thinking. And even more, she hated what the police would think when they found out about the smuggling, which they would if they hadn’t already.
“Harley, did you find it yet?”
“Not yet.”
“If you don’t hurry, there’s going to be a wet spot on these stairs.”
“Yeah, well if I don’t get it open soon, there’ll be two wet spots.”
Damn. Where was it? She scraped her knuckle against something hard and her heart leaped. A quick investigation with her fingertips discovered no lock, only some kind of metal plate over where it should be. By now her fingertips were bleeding and she regretted, not for the first time, her lack of fingernails. One more reason to stop biting them.
“Cami, you’ve got nails, don’t you?”
“Nails? Like what you hammer?”
“No, fingernails. Something to pry off this metal plate. It’s covering the lock.”
“Oh God . . . ”
“Now don’t panic. It’s not like we’re in the wilderness. We’re in the basement of a design shop that usually has at least a half dozen employees and plenty of customers. We’ll be fine.”
Cami was fumbling in the dark, her hands making slapping sounds as she searched for the plate cover. After a few moments, she said, “I’d have to have a screwdriver to pry off this thing. It’s fastened pretty firm.”
She sounded remarkably calm. Harley nodded, then realized Cami couldn’t see her. “It’s okay. We’ll just have to think of something else.”
“Yeah? How fast? I really gotta pee, Harley.”
“Me too. Maybe there’s a toilet down here somewhere. Or we could just go scratch in the dirt like one of your cats, I guess.”
Cami made a funny sound. Harley wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying. It was a toss-up. She could relate. At the moment, she felt like doing both. She’d never thought the complete absence of light could be so—well, dark.
To keep from continuing that line of thought, she said, “Well, as long as we’re stuck here for the moment, why don’t we explore our options. Let’s see what’s down here. We need a crowbar or screwdriver. We may even find another door or a window.”
“Right.” Cami didn’t sound too convinced, not that Harley blamed her.
They cautiously made their way down the narrow steps again, holding on to each other just in case. Once they reached what felt like the bottom, Harley—who was in front—fumbled along the wall, fingers skimming over a surface that seemed to be concrete block. It was cool and dank. There were probably spiders down here as big as dinner plates. She shuddered.
I should have known better than to unlock secret doors. That kind of thing never turns out well. What was I thinking? I’ve watched more than enough horror movies. When will I learn? Now Cami is going to get hysterical and I’ll have to calm her down.
“Harley?”
“Yeah?”
“You do know you’re thinking out loud, don’t you?”
“I am?”
Cami’s grip on her shirt tightened. “Yeah. I can’t promise not to get hysterical. I’ve seen too many horror movies, too. I don’t like this.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure. We’re the only ones down here. If there was anything hiding, it would have already started up the chain saw.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It doesn’t?”
Whatever Cami might have answered to that remained unsaid as Harley tripped over something on the floor and went down like a felled oak. Cami screamed. The sound bounced off the walls and seemed to reverberate like a snare drum assault. Harley rolled away from what felt like a bolt of material.
She got to her feet, brushing grit from her palms, then followed the sound of screaming to reach Cami and give her a brisk shake.
“Hey! It’s all right, Cami. Damn, it’s hard to believe such a big sound comes from s
uch a small woman. Before you get too hysterical, it’s possible we can find some kind of light down here. After all, it’s a storeroom.”
Cami’s teeth chattered loudly. “H-h-how do you know that?”
“Because I tripped over some bolts of material or a rug. Big, bulky, soft. We can use it to wrap up in if we get cold. First, I’m going to see if I can find a light. Matches, anything. There must be some kind of light switch down here somewhere. Maybe one of those that you can turn on and off from either switch, y’know?”
In answer, Cami’s teeth chattered more loudly. Harley felt a twinge of regret for involving Cami the last time and this time, too. Cami wasn’t cut out for this. She’d led a sheltered life, apple of her parents’ eye, still at the same job she’d gotten right out of high school, the only bump on her smooth road the divorce from Jace. In just two weeks, there’d been more excitement in Cami’s life than in their past fourteen years combined, Harley was certain. Except, of course, for adolescent pranks, none of which measured up to being kidnapped and threatened by career criminals.
“Just stay right here, Cami. Sit down on this rug or whatever it is. I’m going to see what else is down here. Or feel what else is down here, since I can’t see a damned thing.”
She helped Cami sit down, not as easy as it might seem since there was absolutely no light at all. She’d always heard the other senses got sharper if one was compromised, but maybe that took time. The only sharp thing she felt right now was foreboding.
There were some kind of shelves on the wall, and she cautiously felt her way along. Only a few shelves, maybe three, holding what felt like glass vases, stone statues, and unrecognizable objects. She found a weird-shaped glass thing, kind of oval, smooth with a wooden base. It had a switch of some kind.
A flick of the switch turned on a blue and red light. Ah. A lava lamp. The sixties styles had come back, but this couldn’t have been here since the days of Nehru jackets and free love. Real lava lamps were scarce. Diva and Yogi had one in their bedroom, possibly a holdover from their younger days, but more likely a flea market find since they’d lived in a van in the late sixties and early seventies.
“Hey, we have some light,” Cami said, and sounded much more cheerful.
“This must mean there’s electricity down here. I have high hopes there’s a better light somewhere. And maybe a phone—hey! Where’s your cell phone?”
“In my purse.”
“And your purse—”
“Is on that desk where you found the key. I feel like Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole, regretting how I got here and quite positive I don’t like it,” Cami said sadly.
“It’s not forever. We have lava light, so we’re bound to find even better surprises.”
“I don’t like surprises. Not lately. I think I’ve lost my interest in excitement. It makes my stomach hurt.”
“Cami, it’s my fault for dragging you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me. I came willingly enough. Damn. This rug has really uncomfortable lumps in it. And it’s not very pretty.”
Cami was peering at the rolled up rug where she sat, a big long thing with tasseled fringe and a distinctly unpleasant odor. Mildew, most likely. Harley wondered why anyone would put a valuable rug down here in the basement to rot.
“Maybe we’ll find a chair, though it’s not as big down here as I thought. Kinda narrow for a store room or basement. It must be some kind of storm shelter.”
Swirling red and blue light waltzed over the walls, not much, but better than none at all. No electrical cord tethered it to the wall. Great. Battery powered, which meant it’d probably run out sooner than she liked. Shelves held dust and suspicious small pellets. If mice could get in here, that meant it wasn’t completely airtight, which Harley considered a good thing. She sneezed. Dust scattered, and she sneezed again.
“Gesundheit,” Cami said. “Find anything?”
“Dust and doody. Mouse doody. Your cats would love it here.”
“Probably not. They prefer rooms with a view.”
“So do I. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any windows down here. Or another door. I had hope, but there you go.”
“Harley? Do you think someone deliberately shut us in here?”
Harley hesitated before answering. That shadow had looked suspiciously like a silhouette right before the door slammed shut. But she could be mistaken. She probably was mistaken. Now that she thought about it, she was certain she was mistaken. Who would have locked them in here and why?
“No,” she said, “I don’t think so. The door just closed by itself.” Maybe.
“I still have to pee, you know,” Cami said then. “No toilet down here, I suppose?”
“Not unless you want to think of this as one big litter box. I think I see a mop bucket in that corner if we get desperate.”
“Omigod . . . ”
Cami sounded suddenly horrified, and Harley peered at her in the thick shadows, just able to see her leap up from the floor. Blue and red glowing lava lamps didn’t put out much light.
“You don’t have to pee in a bucket, it’s just an option. What is it? Cami? You okay?”
“I don’t know . . . this rug feels funny.”
“It’s old and probably mildewed and falling apart.”
“No, it’s not . . . not that. It’s lumpy.” Cami’s teeth were chattering again.
“A few lumps shouldn’t scare you so bad. Probably just dead mice. Come on, Cami, I know this seems bad, but it’s not like we’ll be stuck here forever. Even if we end up here overnight, someone will be here early in the morning and let us out.”
“I have to be at work at eight tonight, remember?”
“Oh. Well. You might have to consider this a personal day.”
“It’s not what I consider it that counts. I have supervisors, you know. It’s not like it used to be. Everything’s so automated now, and there are layoffs all the time . . . I don’t need this on my record, that I didn’t even call in.”
“I’m sorry, Cami. I really am. It’s my fault if you get written up.” Harley looked down at the rug. Hair on the back of her neck prickled. She had no idea why. It was a prickling she’d had before. It never meant anything good.
She looked back up at Cami. “When you say the rug is lumpy, what do you mean?”
“Weird. Like . . . like there’s a couple of rugs wadded up inside. Or table legs.”
Harley didn’t say anything for a moment. She didn’t like what she was thinking. It had to be her overactive imagination. The past few weeks had been nerve-wracking. Now she had this stupid premonition that reminded her of Diva’s obscure prophecies. Next thing she knew, she’d be putting up a card table alongside Diva and reading tarot cards at flea markets. Ridiculous. Really it was. Still . . . there was something in that rug that wasn’t supposed to be there. She just knew it. She thought of Harry Gordon and the stuff he’d been smuggling. Weapons, maybe?
“Well then,” she said briskly and loudly as if trying to convince herself, “let’s just see what’s making you uncomfortable. No telling what they put down here and forgot about. It’s probably just junk.”
Harley grabbed hold of the edge of the rug, fingers digging into ratty wool and damp fringe, and she tugged at it firmly. It didn’t budge.
“Give me a hand, will you, Cami? We’ll just unroll it and see what’s in here. It might be old lamps or something we can use.”
Cami hesitated, then bent to grab the other end of the rug. They both tugged at the same time and succeeded in jerking it up. Something rolled free and brushed against Harley’s leg. She jumped back. Nothing happened, so she took a deep breath and bent closer to investigate. Light from the lava lamp didn’t provide enough illumination to see well, and she straightened to pull it closer to the edge of the shelf. Thin light wavered and danced over the floor and unrolled carpet.
For a moment she couldn’t move, could only stare in horror.
“Harley?” Cami’s voice s
ounded quavery and on the edge of hysteria. “Is that . . . is that—”
“A body? Yep.”
While Cami stumbled toward the mop bucket in the corner, Harley stared down at the bloodless face and realized she recognized him.
Cami was right. They had fallen down the rabbit hole.
Eight
Harley roused from a fitful sleep when she heard a thumping sound. She and Cami were huddled together as far from the body as possible, up against the opposite wall that wasn’t nearly far enough away.
“Cami,” she said when the thumping came again, louder this time, “wake up. It must be morning. I hear someone moving around up there.”
“God, I hope so. You don’t think . . . it could be whoever put him down here?”
“There’s only one way to find out. No, don’t start that whimpering again. We don’t have much of a choice. Unless you want to stay down here a while longer.”
Shivering a little in the dank air, she went up the narrow stairs and started pounding on the door with both fists. After a few minutes of that, she heard someone say, “Oh my God . . . who are you? Are you behind the wall?”
“No, behind a door in the wall. There’s a key sticking out—is that you, Amanda?”
“Harley?”
She could have collapsed with relief.
In what seemed like far too long a time when there was a key in plain sight in the keyhole, Amanda had the door open and Harley and Cami tumbled out into the storeroom. Light made them both squint, but Harley could still see that Amanda looked shocked and puzzled. But not speechless.
“How did you get behind that wall?”
“Just lucky. And it’s a storage area. Call the police.”
“Are you out of your mind? Why should I call the police because you got locked in a storage area? And how did you know it was there? I never knew about it, and I’ve been all over this shop.” Amanda stuck her head into the opening and peered into the shadows. “What’s down here?”
Harley Rushes In (Book 2 of the Blue Suede Mysteries) Page 11