by Jo Goodman
"Humph," was what she said.
"Do you know where we are?" he asked. Walker's tone was merely conversational, without any thread of panic.
Skye shook her head. "Not really. I imagine somewhere close to Parnell's workroom. Probably just on the other side." Still using the wall for support, she hunkered down. "How did you get here?"
"I had just finished helping Hank with the carriage. Parnell came down to speak to Hank about something. I wasn't needed or wanted, so I excused myself and went to the house. When I walked into the kitchen, Corina offered me cake and coffee and I accepted. That's the last thing I remember." As he talked, Walker began to shift his position slightly, moving his bound hands so they rested under his buttocks, then under his thighs. He drew himself up, folding his legs close to his chest so that his chin touched his knees, and brought his wrists under his knees, his calves, and finally past his feet until his hands were in front of him, resting comfortably on his lap. Concentrating on the knots now, he didn't notice Skye's look of complete astonishment. "I only came around when you started moving the lamp toward that opening." His long, agile fingers worked the damp rope that secured his wrists. When he felt himself forcing the movements, he relaxed and went at it again patiently. "I don't like to admit it, but at first I thought you were a ghost. When I realized it was you, all I could think of was that you were going to go up like a candlewick if you tipped that oil lamp. I didn't mean to frighten you."
Skye was staring at Walker's hands. The knots seemed to be unraveling of their own accord, melting at his gentle coaxing. When he had moved his bound hands from back to forward, the length of his body was possessed of a singular fluidity. Tension dissolved in the face of his graceful contortions. Now his fingers plucked the knots loose and Walker was able to release his hands through an opening smaller than her own wrists. When he was free he stretched his fingers, clenching and unclenching his fists. It didn't take him any time at all to release his ankles.
Tossing aside the ropes, Walker went to Skye's side. He gently touched the side of her face with the back of his hand. "What happened?"
"Parnell. I didn't see it coming the first time." She let herself be turned so that Walker could work on the stocking binding her wrists.
"The first time?" he asked.
"The second time I made him do it. I wanted him to leave me alone." She didn't have to explain. Walker's tension, his silence, told her he understood. "It worked," she said softly. "He put me here with you."
Walker found his voice slowly. "Tell me from the beginning," he said.
Skye drew a calming breath, more for Walker than for herself. "He found out I have a gun. Matt overheard us at the swan pond this afternoon, and he innocently told Annie."
"Who not so innocently told Parnell." Anger edged Walker's voice. "She was looking out for herself."
"Don't blame her," Skye said. "She has Matt to think of, too. And I'm afraid it all may have ended badly for her. We have to find both of them." Quickly, while Walker worked to free her, she told him about Annie locking her in the cellar and the armoire that opened between Parnell's room and her own. "That's how he was able to move back and forth," she said. "There is no passage between the rooms, at least, not a corridor, but the wardrobes are flush on either side of the same wall. Mine's in my dressing room, but his is so big that it remains in his main bedchamber."
Walker massaged her wrists once they were free. He felt her wince as circulation returned. "Matt found it?"
She nodded. "By accident. Parnell was furious. He was listening to Annie tell me what she'd done, and when I realized where Matt had gone, he caught us all. He had Annie pack her things and it seemed as if he was going to let her and Matt go, but I don't know if that's what he did."
"We'll find her," Walker said. "And Matt." He turned her again and began working on her ankles.
"First things first. We have to find a way out ourselves." He glanced at the lamp. "And we don't have much time. Thirty minutes' worth of oil at the most."
"What do you think Parnell and Corina are doing? Will they come here to check on us?"
"I wouldn't if I were them," he said matter-of-factly. "I don't think we're prisoners. This is supposed to be our crypt. Once Parnell realized that Matt knew about the gun because of our conversation, he understood I was still involved with you in some way. It's hard to imagine what he knows, or what he thinks he knows, but he clearly decided he wasn't taking any chances. He decided it was time to get rid of us both. Corina might have encouraged him."
"Will they leave the house?"
"That's harder to say." He rubbed Skye's ankles. "It depends how greedy they are. Parnell and Corina have all the money they can collect from their invention scam. I found the contracts. They were in the desk, where you said they'd be. I didn't have time to examine them, but I'm confident that's what they were. We need to get them before they're destroyed." He helped Skye to her feet. His eyes ran over her quickly. The state of her undress and the reason for it raised his anger again. It was a tangible thing, with heat and substance.
Skye touched his forearm and felt the hard cords of tension drawing his muscles taut. "He didn't... nothing happened. I told you I made him angry. And he didn't drug me this time."
"Did you know he was drugging you?"
"I suspected. Corina had opportunity and motive. She did it for him." Skye raised her hand to the side of her face. "Except for this, he didn't touch me."
Walker placed his arms around her waist and drew her close for just a moment. His lips touched her forehead, then the slight bruising on her jaw. "All right," he said softly. "Help me find a way out of here. Do you think you know where the tunnel goes?"
Skye drew back. "Nowhere. If there were a way out in that direction we wouldn't have been put here. Look at us. Neither one of us is very dirty, we weren't carried in that way. I think Parnell's workroom is on the other side of one of those stone walls. There's a way in that isn't obvious, but it's there if we can find it. This is the tunnel Parnell's been working on."
"The one leading to the treasure?"
"The one he thinks is leading to the treasure."
Walker wasn't going to take issue with Skye's theory about the treasure or split hairs with her about what Parnell was thinking. The existence of the tunnel made him believe there was more fact than fantasy in Skye's ideas. "Is it worth investigating?"
"Only if we split."
He nodded. There was just one light and two directions. He glanced at the cot. "This will only take a moment." The cot broke up easily under his hands. He tore the rotting canvas into strips and wrapped them around one of the wooden cot legs. He divided their precious supply of oil by dripping half of it onto the canvas, then lighting it. "You use the lamp. I'll take this torch. Yell for me if you find something." He kissed her hard on the mouth, and then disappeared into the tunnel.
Skye began hunting immediately, running her hands over the rough whitewashed stones, looking for one that could be moved. She worked systematically, top to bottom, left to right. She pushed and probed with her fingers, the heels of her hands, and sometimes her shoulder. Except for loosening bits of mortar and peeling away some of the whitewash, the exercise was fruitless. When she had completed one turn of the three walls, she began again, even more slowly this time, pulling on the stones as well as pushing them.
Walker's torch flickered as he moved along the narrow passage. The tunnel was shored at regular intervals with timber, but there was enough loose dirt along the perimeter of the walls to let Walker know it was inadequate support at best. He proceeded cautiously, looking for any source of light that wasn't coming from his own torch.
Less than twenty yards from the entrance Walker found Parnell's boots and gloves and duster. A pick and shovel rested beside the garments. A wide-brimmed black felt hat was hanging on the end of the pick handle. It was all evidence that Parnell had taken the Granville family myths seriously. Shaking his head, Walker tossed the hat and took the pick with him
.
The tunnel had a gradual downward slope. Walker could almost feel the weight of the earth above him pressing down. There was no hope of digging up, and when the tunnel ended abruptly another twenty yards from where he'd found the pick, Walker realized here was no hope of digging out. If the tunnel had ever extended beyond this point, it had collapsed in on itself. There was no telling how much of Parnell's work was undone by the shifting earth. Disappointed in spite of the fact that there had been almost no chance of success, Walker turned and began to retrace his steps.
He would never be able to say what drew his eyes downward. Perhaps it was the sudden softness of the earth beneath his feet. Perhaps it was the play of light as he lowered the torch. It could have been that the pick caught a stone as he dragged it alongside him. Walker recognized happenstance as the source of his discovery. He poked the butt end of the torch into the soft dirt wall and raised his pick overhead. Then he began digging.
Intent on his task, he almost didn't hear Skye's approach. "Stay back," he warned her.
She took an immediate step forward. "Walker? What is it? What are you—"
His face was stony, his eyes fierce. "Stay back," he repeated. He swung the pick. Clumps of dirt were sprayed as he yanked it out and plunged it in again. "You don't need to see this."
But she already had seen. Thanks to Walker's pick marks, the outline of the grave was clear. He hadn't found a way out; he had found his uncle.
Skye turned away and went back to the anteroom and waited. He came upon her ten minutes later. His torch had only a few threads of flame lighting it now. He leaned the pick against the stone. There were deeply carved lines around the corners of Walker's mouth.
"Is it—" She didn't need to finish the question. Walker was nodding. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know you hoped it wouldn't be true."
He had hoped. Aloud he had said he knew his uncle was dead, but quietly, in his thoughts, he had hoped for a different outcome. "It happened some time ago," he said. His voice was quiet, gritty. Emotion edged the words. "I don't think I was here then. I don't think I could have saved him." His gold-flecked eyes were anguished. "I'll never know—"
Skye's arms went around him just as the torch burned itself out. "Don't," she said. "Don't do this to yourself. You've done every—"
Walker put Skye from him. "Have you found anything?" he asked, without inflection.
"Walker."
The set of his face was grim, the planes and angles sharply chiseled. He raked back his hair and repeated his question. There was no time to bask in Skye's comfort even if he could accept it.
"Nothing," she said. "I can't find a way out."
Walker wouldn't accept it. "That's not possible. There was a way in."
It was that knowledge that had kept Skye going as long as she had. "I've tried every stone. There's no secret spring, nothing that will be turned or manipulated. I've been over the floor. Perhaps there was a way out through the tunnel and Parnell closed it with a landslide."
"The slide is older than that. Dust has already settled. We were brought in another way and we just haven't figured it out."
Skye shook her head. "God knows," she said, raising her face upward. "I don't."
They thought of it simultaneously. "We're not behind Parnell's workroom," Walker said.
Skye finished his thought. "We're below it."
The lamp was sputtering now, but neither of them paid it attention. Walker lifted Skye on his shoulders and traced a thorough spiral path starting at the center of the room. Skye pushed at the timbered ceiling until she felt one section give way. It shifted but would not be moved. "It's no good, Walker. He's put something over the top. I can't lift it."
"Yes, you can."
"But I—"
She had to lift it. The height was too great for Walker to reach it unassisted and Skye couldn't support his weight. She was the one who had to do it. The lamp supplied only a flicker of light. In the dark they might not be able to find the trapdoor again. "Stand on my shoulders, Skye."
She responded to the command in his voice. As he hunkered down she grabbed his raised arms and was hoisted standing onto his shoulders. Walker raised himself slowly, forcing Skye to bend at the knees to keep from hitting her head on the ceiling. When she was directly under the trapdoor she began to rise, pushing with all her strength against the door while Walker absorbed the pressure of her weight.
The door gave a quarter of an inch. She could feel the object on top shift as she inclined the door. She pushed harder, using her entire body like a lever to force the opening.
"More, Skye," Walker said. The force of her pushing almost buckled his knees. He held steady, grasping her ankles tightly. "You can do this."
It was more than his body that supported her. Skye felt his absolute confidence. He believed in her as perhaps no one else ever had. She applied more force and lift and gave it all sound with an unladylike grunt that would have appalled her mother and would have had Jay Mac shaking his head in disbelief.
There was a grating noise as one leg of the worktable overhead was pushed off the trapdoor. It burst open so suddenly that Skye unfolded like a jack-in-the-box through the opening. Bracing herself on the floor of the workroom, Skye hauled herself through easily. "Pass me the lamp," she said. "There's bound to be another one in here."
Walker raised it to her. With its last thread of light she was able to fire the lantern hanging just inside the door. She set the lantern near the opening. Walker looked up at her sweet face looking down at him. He was grinning. "I love you," he said.
Her smile was serene. "Just for that, I'm going to pass you a ladder."
"There's a ladder?"
Skye nodded. "Parnell must have hoisted it up after he was done with it." She disappeared long enough to get the ladder that was leaning against the wall. She lowered it a few feet until Walker was able to grab and support it. She kissed him as he came out of the pit. "Did you really think I could lift that door?" she asked, lending him a hand.
"Of course," he said simply. "You can do anything."
Grinning now, Skye picked up the lantern. "What now?"
"Where's that gun?"
"It was in my trunk."
"We need to get it. If Parnell and Corina are still in the house, we might be able to move up the backstairs unnoticed."
"All right." Skye followed Walker out of the workroom. They didn't speak at all as they worked their way quietly up the stairs to the kitchen. At the top of the steps Walker paused and listened for sounds of conversation or movement. With a single glance at Skye he communicated that it was safe to continue.
The backstairs were deserted as well. Walker made Skye wait on the landing until he was certain the hallway was safe. When he reached the door to her room, he motioned to her to follow.
"Where are they?" Skye mouthed the words.
He shrugged and rooted in her trunk, coming up with the gun after a few seconds. He checked the barrel. It was empty. He raised both brows and gave her a telling look.
"I never said it was loaded," she whispered. "And you never asked."
"I have shells in my room." He indicated she should go first this time and he would back her. Skye took a step out of the dressing room and stopped suddenly. She placed a finger to her lips. With the other hand she pointed to the armoire.
Voices could be heard from the other side. Walker huddled in front of the armoire while Skye knelt beside him. Parnell and Corina were arguing, their raised voices and sharp tones perfectly audible through the thin partition of the wardrobes.
"And I'm telling you we can't stay here any longer," Parnell said. "Can't you be satisfied with what we have?"
"We've already been wildly successful, more than I dreamed. Why must you always want more?"
"Your dreams are paltry, that's why," Corina snapped. "I'm the one who got us this far."
"And I'm the one who took the risks. You're the cook. I've been impersonating another man. It's my signature on those c
ontracts."
Walker touched Skye's wrist. With a series of gestures he told her he was going to load the gun and get the contracts. She was to stay just where she was. Skye agreed and watched Walker go out of the corner of her eye as she continued to eavesdrop on Parnell's conversation with his sister.
* * *
"If you don't want to pack your things, Cory, then don't," Parnell said. "We have enough money for you to buy everything new. You can travel anywhere you want. Do anything. Seventy thousand dollars can make you very happy if you'll let it."
Corona's small oval face was mottled with angry color. "It's nothing compared to the treasure!" she said furiously. "Nothing."
"A treasure that doesn't exist is worth exactly that—nothing." He reached under his bed, withdrew two valises, and tossed both on his bed. "I've been searching for it for months now. I've been searching. There's nothing there, Corina. The tunnel can't be excavated. Parnell told you and you wouldn't listen. You sent that man to his death, making him dig. It could have been me who was buried alive." He saw it in her eyes just then, that fleeting wish that it had been him. "Watch yourself," he warned her. "I can put you in that cellar as easily as I put the others there."
Corina snorted. "You couldn't have done it at all without my help. Or do you think Walker would have just followed you down there like a sheep to the slaughter?" She crossed her arms in front of her, her pose more impatient than defensive. "You needed me. You've always needed me. I'm the one who took the position with Parnell. I'm the one who saw the opportunities with the contracts. I'm the one who read the Granville history and understood the potential. What have you done except to complicate every plan we have because of your own vile needs?"
His head jerked back under her verbal blows. Angry color flushed his face unnaturally. "Shut up, Cory."
But she would not be silenced. "You caved in to those death threats and hired Walker Caide against my advice. Instead of simply having a few servants to worry about, we had to contend with someone whose very job demanded he watch you! In all the time he's been here you've hardly made any progress on the tunnel. You're barely to the point Parnell was when the landslide occurred. And then there was Mrs. Givens."
