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)
Then, somewhere ahead in the darkness, a sudden crash sent dust and debris falling from the ceiling.
Amy grabbed my arm. “Please tell me that was just an old support beam giving out and not a booby trap meant to kill us.”
My silence spoke for itself.
“I heard you loud and clear. You don’t know.”
A distant sound reached us, coming from the opposite direction.
“Someone is behind us and headed our way,” Amy whispered.
“We have to keep moving,” I murmured and took a careful step forward when—
Something skittered over my boot.
Amy let out a strangled yelp and scrambled back, slapping at her legs like she was being attacked. “NOPE. NOPE. I AM DONE.”
“Quiet,” I warned and shined my flashlight down. “Relax, it’s just—”
Amy kept her voice to a whisper but in my head, I heard her scream it.
“DO NOT SAY ‘JUST A RAT’ LIKE THAT MAKES IT BETTER.”
The rat, thoroughly unimpressed with us, squeezed itself between two stones in the wall and disappeared.
Amy bent over, resting her hands on her knees and breathing hard. “I swear, if that thing just crawled into a hidden passage, I quit. I’m done.”
I narrowed my eyes at the wall. The stones there were looser than the others. I stepped closer and pressed against one. It shifted slightly.
Amy groaned. “Oh no. No, no, no. You’re going to open it, aren’t you?”
“Do I have a choice? Ignatius wouldn’t let anyone know the way to the mausoleum. That was for Claire and him alone.”
“Maybe so, but you do realize this is how every horror movie starts, don’t you?”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re in a mystery.”
I pushed harder on the stone, and with a low, grinding groan, the stone shifted. A narrow gap appeared, revealing a darkened alcove. And inside…
Footprints.
Fresh ones leading deeper into another tunnel.
I turned to Amy. “Looks like whoever is here took a detour.”
She let out a long breath. “Or knows his way around.”
I stepped inside the passageway. “Coming?”
Amy hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “You always talked me into these—”
“Adventures.” I finished with a gleeful smile. “You know that you wouldn’t want to miss such fun for anything.”
With one last glance behind us, Amy followed me into the unknown.
The passageway grew narrower, the damp stone walls pressing in as Amy and I moved forward. The dim tunnel air carried an unsettling silence, except for our footsteps—and the distant, unmistakable sound of someone else drawing closer behind us.
Amy whispered, “I swear, if that’s a rat with unnaturally large feet, I am going to see that he gets you first.”
I kept my flashlight low and my voice lower. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
Amy grabbed my arm. “Faith that your mom will be waiting in the mausoleum to rescue us from all the rats, human and animal.”
“Then let’s pick up the pace and not keep my mom or the rats waiting.”
We hurried forward, my heart thudding in rhythm with our footsteps. The passageway began to slope upward, and the closer we got to the end, the stronger the scent of damp earth and old stone became.
Then, finally, we reached steps that led to a white marble column. Amy and I hurried up the stairs and pushed against the column. It opened slowly and with each strenuous push, an eerie glow began to seep out. When we finally stepped past the opening, it was to see two lanterns, flames flickering inside each and casting soft light on the inside of the Willow Mausoleum.
I barely had time to process our surroundings before a sharp, collective inhale filled the space.
Standing near the three crypts were Professors Anderson and Swatcher, both looking like we had just emerged straight from the underworld.
For a second, we all just stared at each other, a heavy silence hanging between us.
Then my flashlight beam landed on Professor Anderson’s hand.
A bloody knife.
“Professor Anderson with a knife in the mausoleum did it,” Amy said nervously, sounding like she won the game.
Anderson held it up, his face pale. “I—I just found it.”
Swatcher snorted. “Sure you did. And where would that be? Right next to Jones’s body?”
I exchanged a quick look with Amy. Jones. The dead man in the Mercantile.
Anderson’s grip on the knife tightened. “I told you already, I had nothing to do with that.”
Swatcher crossed his arms. “Right. And I suppose you’re just down here to admire the decor?”
“I’m working with the FBI,” Anderson snapped. “And it’s all your fault.”
Amy nudged me. “You got part of that right.”
“I hoped you would figure it out, Pepper,” Anderson muttered.
Swatcher let out a dry laugh. “Please. You think I don’t know a setup when I see one? You killed Jones. And now you’re playing the ‘I found the knife’ game. Classic.”
“I didn’t kill anyone! But you did and you set me up,” Anderson shot back. “You planted gold coins in my carry-on when we were on that treasure hunt in the Florida Keys and the only way for me to prove my innocence was to work with the FBI to prove you guilty.”