Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“You’ll be fine,” I encouraged.
Of course, that was when a rat decided to make an appearance.
“No. Nope. Nada,” Amy declared, stopping dead in her tracks. “I am not stepping off these stairs.”
“I’ll stay with Amy to keep her calm,” my mom said, switching on her phone’s flashlight. “And how are you not afraid of rats, Pepper?”
“Three brothers who enjoyed tormenting and teasing me,” I said simply. “Now shine your lights around the room.”
The bright beams sent the rats scurrying, their tiny claws scratching against the stone floor. I scanned the walls, searching for any section that might conceal a hidden door.
“There’s nothing here, Pepper,” Amy said, hugging herself. “No sign of an entrance.”
I shook my head. “I know I’m right about this.”
My mom sighed. “Unfortunately… she usually is.”
Cringing, Amy bravely stepped off the stairs. “Then let’s hurry up and check the walls so we can leave.”
I knew she’d push past her fear. She always did.
“Watch out for that rat!” my mom screeched.
Amy jumped back with a startled yelp, while the rat, apparently equally terrified, darted toward the wall and squeezed its fat little body between two stones.
I grinned. “I think you just found it, Mom.”
Rushing over, I ran my hands along the edges of the stone, feeling for any give. Amy, despite her better judgment, joined me, and together we pried it open. The metal hinges groaned with rust, and the passage yawned before us—a dark, cavernous hole that exhaled an earthy, musty scent.
I aimed my flashlight inside, and the darkness seemed to stretch forever.
Turning to my mom, I said, “Go to the cemetery and do whatever you have to do to convince Dan to open the Willow Mausoleum. I’ll meet you there.”
Before she could protest, I stepped inside.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Up to you, Amy. Go with Mom or come with me.”
Amy let out a heavy sigh—the kind that carried the weight of every bad decision she had ever made.
Then, predictably, she followed me into the dark.
CHAPTER 26
The air in the tunnel was damp and thick, carrying the scent of earth, mildew, and secrets long buried. My flashlight beam cut through the darkness, revealing crumbling stone walls, wooden support beams warped with age, and cobwebs that looked like they belonged in a haunted house.
Amy exhaled loudly behind me. “So, let me get this straight. We are voluntarily walking into a pitch-black, underground tunnel—where rats, ghosts, and possibly a murderer might be hanging out?”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?” I teased, stepping carefully over a section of uneven earth and crumbled stone. “Watch your step.”
She sighed dramatically. “You know, I could be home right now. Safe and sound watching a mystery show where the detective does all the work, and I get to eat snacks.”
I chuckled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I heard a chuckle in her response. “Where’s the survival in this?”
“We’ve survived worse dilemmas.”
“True. You got us into endless ones.”
“But I always got us out of them,” I reminded.
A sudden clunk echoed through the tunnel, cutting off our banter.
Amy grabbed my arm. “What was that?”
I swung my flashlight toward the direction of the sound. The tunnel stretched ahead, a long, gaping corridor of blackness. My pulse kicked up. There was someone else down here.
I tilted my head, listening. Silence. But not the comfortable kind. The kind that crawled under your skin and made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
“We’re not alone,” I whispered.
Amy tightened her grip on my arm. “I hate when you say things like that.”
I pressed forward, keeping my light low. We had no idea how far ahead the person was, but if he’d been using this tunnel, then he knew his way around. We were at a serious disadvantage.
Then came another sound—soft, shuffling footsteps.
Amy froze. “Pepper…”
“Stay close.”
As we crept forward, the tunnel walls seemed to narrow, closing in around us. I ran my fingers along the damp stone, feeling for anything unusual. If there was a hidden turnoff or door, we had to find it before we were found.
The air grew colder.
Then, ahead of us, a light flickered.
Amy sucked in a breath. “That’s not our light.”
“No,” I agreed.
“Please. Please, let it be a ghost,” Amy whispered.
We moved cautiously, keeping to the edges of the tunnel. As we got closer, the source of the flickering glow became clear—an old oil lantern, set on a stone ledge. The flame trembled as if disturbed by movement.
“The person left that on purpose,” I murmured. “He wants us to know he’s ahead of us.”
“Why couldn’t it be a ghost,” Amy muttered. “So, what do we do? Keep going toward the obviously ominous lantern?”
I studied the setup before sharing with Amy. “Someone could be waiting just beyond the light, or worse—he could have some kind of trap waiting for us.”
Amy added to the dire situation. “What if there’s also someone behind us?”