The Secret of Cypriere Bayou

by Jana DeLeon

  “There’s no reason to build a tunnel to nowhere and even less of a reason to repair it. There has to be an opening somewhere.”

  “I don’t suppose…no, never mind.” The last thing he needed was Olivia taking more risks.

  Olivia bit her lower lip. “You want me to take a look at the tunnel.”

  “Forget it. I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I’ll figure it out. It’s just a matter of time.” Time he didn’t really have.

  Olivia shook her head. “Don’t waste time coddling me. If you need me to look at the tunnel, I will. Since whatever is going on seems to center around me, the least I can do is help solve my own problems.”

  John felt a wave of relief, then admiration pass over him. Despite a dramatic night of personal revelations and an all-too-recent brush with death, Olivia was still willing to take chances. “I rigged your spotlight at the top of the tunnel entrance this morning so I could work without having to hold a light. It’s pretty bright in there if that makes a difference.”

  “Yes, it does. In the dark things seem closer. It makes the claustrophobia worse.”

  “Okay. When do you want to do this?”

  “No time like the present.”

  A wave of relief washed over John that Olivia wasn’t going to delay entering the tunnel. With her knowledge of old homes, she might be the key to unlocking whatever secret the tunnel held and ultimately the secret to what might have happened to his half sister.

  They exited the caretaker’s cottage and crossed the courtyard to the main house. John scanned the brush as they walked, but didn’t see anything that indicated they were being watched. In the main house, he headed upstairs to the master suite, Olivia trailing behind.

  He turned on the spotlight and illuminated the tunnel, then handed Olivia a smaller flashlight. It wasn’t really needed with the spotlight, but he figured holding the light in her hands would help keep Olivia from panicking in the closed space. Olivia stepped into the wardrobe and poked her head inside the tunnel, then leaned back, took a deep breath and stepped into the tunnel.

  “I’m going to talk while I look, okay?” Olivia asked. “Talking helps keep my anxiety down.”

  John stepped into the wardrobe and peered into the tunnel. “Whatever you need to do. Why don’t you tell me about the history of these tunnels.”

  Olivia stood just inside the tunnel and shined her flashlight on the back wall, then began pressing the surface with her fingers. “In the old days, the wealthy believed servants shouldn’t be seen, so they built these passageways so the servants could move throughout the house performing their regular duties without disrupting houseguests or the master and mistress of the house.”

  “Sounds sorta rude, and vain.”

  Olivia let out a short laugh, but John could tell it was forced. “It was rude, and vain, but they lived in a different time and were expected to live as other wealthy people dictated. It probably saved the servants a lot of grief, if you think about it. You can hardly be accused of scuffing a marble floor you don’t walk on or ruining a rug by spilling drinks, when the only way you traverse the house is out of sight.”

  “Maybe, but I’m sure they got blamed for everything anyway.”

  “Cynic.” Olivia took a couple of steps more down the tunnel and started her analysis of the next piece of wall. “But you’re probably right.”

  She stopped working on the wall for a moment and looked back at John, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just thinking that I’m wasting my time with these sides. There’s no reason to design a tunnel this long unless the other doorway is at the end. I mean, there may be another offshoot, but why extend something to nowhere?”

  “That makes sense, but I checked every square inch of the walls at the end of that tunnel. They’re solid. I would swear to it. No hollow sound at all.”

  Olivia stared at him for a moment. “Maybe it’s not the walls.” She walked to the back of the tunnel and shined her flashlight on the ceiling.

  “Do you want me to help?” John asked.

  “No. You would block the light, and it would make the tunnel feel smaller.”

  “Are you calling me fat?” John asked, trying to take Olivia’s focus away from the narrow space she occupied.

  She laughed this time for real. “Hardly. If you have an ounce of fat on you, it’s probably in your head.”

  John smiled, pleased to know that she’d noticed him that way. “There are a lot of people who would probably agree with that assessment.”

  Olivia shot him a grin as she felt across the ceiling with her fingers. She paused when her fingers reached the corner. “This feels different. It has some give.”

  “Be careful.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen—another panel slides open?” She pressed her fingers into the ceiling and John heard a single click, then the floor beneath her dropped.

  Chapter Nine

  He ran into the tunnel, but before he could reach her she was gone and the floor had closed. “Olivia!” he yelled, but there was no reply. Panicked, he stood back from the end of the tunnel and reached forward, pressing the ceiling where Olivia had been working. He located the trip switch and pressed it.

  The floor in front of him slid back, and he looked into the hole. “Olivia!”

  “John!” she yelled back.

  John felt relief wash over him, even though they weren’t out of the woods. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so. The lift sorta dropped at the very end, and I twisted my ankle when I fell off, but I’m okay.”

  “Do you have your flashlight? You need to get back on the lift and figure out a way to get it up.”

  “I dropped it but I think I felt it with my foot. Hold on.”

  John heard shuffling and then Olivia’s voice came back, sounding more strained. “It’s broken.”

  “Don’t panic,” John said and rushed to the tunnel entry and yanked down the spotlight. He hurried back to the opening and shined the spotlight down the hole, then drew in a breath when he realized exactly how far down Olivia was. It was at least a thirty-foot drop. “Don’t look up,” he instructed her, “or you’ll blind yourself. But see if you can find a release to send the lift back up.”

  He watched as she stepped onto the lift and could tell she was favoring her left ankle. She felt the walls around and then she stopped. “I think there’s a problem,” she said, her voice shaky.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a broken cable. That’s why the lift seemed to crash at the end.”

  John blew out a breath and tried to think. “Can you see another way out? The lift has to go somewhere.”

  “The light doesn’t go much beyond the lift. I could try feeling my way.”

  “No. We have no way of knowing what’s down there. You could end up injured.”

  “How far down am I? It felt like a long drop.”

  John hesitated for a second, not wanting Olivia to know just how closed in she was. “John?”

  “About thirty feet.”

  “Oh.”

  That single word said it all. John knew he had to get her out of there, and fast. He’d heard horror stories of claustrophobics who had died of a heart attack when they were closed in. And there was also the chance that Olivia wasn’t down there alone. “Olivia, I need to set the light down for a couple of seconds. I promise it won’t be long, but I need you to be still, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  John hurried to the tunnel opening and removed the strap he’d used to secure the spotlight to the ceiling. He rushed back to the opening and shined the spotlight into the hole. “I’m back. I’m going to secure the spotlight to the ceiling above the opening so that I don’t have to hold it. Give me another couple of seconds, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  John shoved the strap through a ceiling beam, concerned with the one-word answers and the weak sound in Olivia’s voice. He secured the strap
through the handle of the spotlight and tied it into place. “Okay, the light is secure. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I need you to take deep breaths. I’m going to get you out of there.”

  “How?”

  John felt his heart clench at the scared but hopeful sound in her voice. “There’s a long rope in the storage shed. I’m going to get it and lower you a light. That way you can find another exit. You have to be somewhere in the basement. Once you have a light, I’ll go down to the basement and see if I can help from there.”

  John waited a couple of seconds, but there was no answer. “Olivia? Did you hear me?”

  “Promise me you’ll come back.”

  “I promise. Nothing in the world can keep me away, okay? I should only be gone about five minutes. I’ll be right back.” John rushed out of the tunnel and ran down the stairs and out of the house. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d put her in that hole. Risked her life to find his sister, and as much as he wanted to find his sister, what he’d done wasn’t fair or right. But he was going to fix that, now.

  And hope she didn’t have a nervous breakdown before he made things right.

  OLIVIA SAT ON THE LIFT, her knees pressed against her chest with her arms surrounding them. She struggled to control her breathing, to keep from panicking. This was her nightmare—stuck in a small space with no way out. Thank God for the floodlight, otherwise she’d probably lose her mind. She lifted the leg of her jeans a bit and looked at her ankle. She could already see the swelling. It didn’t feel broken, but if she was being honest, she didn’t really feel it at all over her beating heart.

  It’s only a couple more minutes.

  Surely, John had been gone for a few minutes already. He would be back anytime now. Soon. With a rope and a plan. She checked her watch and was horrified to realize barely a minute had passed. She tapped the face of the watch, wondering if it had stopped working but in her heart she knew it hadn’t.

  She stared ahead of her, straining to make out something, anything, but not a ray of light illuminated her surroundings. She could be sitting in a closet or a performance hall for all she knew. If only she hadn’t dropped her flashlight on the way down. She couldn’t help but wonder if the intruder was somewhere in the house. If so, she was a sitting duck.

  She took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Pulling at a frayed spot on her jeans, she wondered if she should sing or count backwards from a thousand, something for a distraction. Then she heard a noise above her.

  “John?” she called out, overwhelmed with relief. Her watch had been wrong. John was back and he was going to get her out of here. She waited a couple of seconds, but he never answered. She felt her heart drop, realizing she must have imagined the noise.

  Until she heard it again.

  “John! John, if that’s you, please answer!” She held her breath, trying to make out the noise, and was certain she heard rustling above her.

  Then everything went black.

  She screamed and clenched her hands so hard she felt her fingernails dig into her palms. Sweat broke out immediately on her forehead and her palms and she swayed dizzily, unable to center herself in the pitch-black. What if it had all been a trick? What if John’s intention from the beginning was to trap her in the basement and leave her there?

  Sure, he couldn’t be responsible for all the things that had happened, but how did she know he wasn’t working with someone else? For all she knew, the intruder and John could be in on everything together.

  Stop it!

  Olivia tried to gain control of her racing mind and focus on the truth. Unless he’s the best actor in the world, the panic in his voice after she fell on the lift was real. John was the good guy, but he was obviously not alone in the house, and the intruder knew exactly where she was.

  Trapped.

  If the drop was thirty feet, that meant she was in the basement. The lift must have been a laundry chute, which meant the tunnel probably led to the laundry area in the basement. Olivia took a deep breath and rose to her hands and knees. Damned if she was going to sit and wait for him to come get her. She was going out fighting, even if she had to do it crawling.

  She inched forward, feeling the floor beneath her before placing her body weight on it. The stone floor of the tunnel was cold and clammy beneath her hands, making her want to yank her hands back, but she had to be careful. The last thing she wanted was another surprise drop. She reached out to her sides and felt brick walls about four feet apart. Like a hallway, she told herself, trying to put the word “tunnel” and all its connotations out of her mind.

  She passed her hand lightly over the floor in front of her to make sure no sharp objects could pierce her; then she pressed harder, ensuring the floor was solid; and finally, she felt the walls on both sides of her to make sure there was no door or that the hallway didn’t shoot off in another direction. Not that she had any idea what to do if that happened.

  She grew dizzy again and realized she was holding her breath. She let out the old air and drew in a deep breath, the stale air causing her to cough. Her heart beat like a metronome on high speed as she inched through the darkness. One beat, two beats, three beats. She found herself counting and moving to the rhythm.

  And then she hit a brick wall, literally.

  She felt the wall in front of her then felt to the sides again. It was a dead end. Both sides were completely encased in brick. Like a tomb.

  She shook her head and struggled to redirect her mind. A dead end made no sense. Someone had used the tunnel so there had to be an opening. It was just a matter of finding the trip switch. A brick wall could move, right? She’d seen it in the movies, and of course, everyone knew that if you saw it in the movies it must be true.

  She let out a sharp laugh. If she could still manage sarcasm, she must not be as bad off as she thought. Rising from the floor, she tried to place the majority of her body weight on her good ankle. She felt the walls as she rose, trying to locate the trigger that would provide an exit. The brick was smooth and cold with patches of fuzzy growth that Olivia didn’t even want to think about. The place was probably teeming with spiders. She absolutely hated spiders.

  Concentrate.

  She ran her hands across the wall, pressing, feeling, looking for the way out. Her heartbeat seemed to increase with every pass of her hands across the brick, and she felt the panic stirring in her stomach, the anxiety moving up her body like a slow burn. When she reached the top of the wall she sucked in a breath, trying to regain control.

  It was too late.

  Her heart pounded like it would leap out of her chest. Each beat sent a rush of blood to her head and she leaned against the wall, trying to steady herself. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. No one should have to die in their own personal nightmare.

  Then anger, despair and fear overwhelmed her and she began to pound on the brick wall, screaming the entire time.

  Chapter Ten

  John tore open the door to the storage shed and grabbed a coil of rope from a shelf on the back wall, then ran back to the main house, hoping to God that the length of rope was long enough to reach Olivia. And that Olivia hadn’t panicked. He took the stairs two at a time, each step pounding out an echo through the house. He ran into the wardrobe and stopped short in the pitch-black.

  What had happened to the floodlight?

  He stepped back into the bedroom and lit the lantern on the nightstand, then dashed into the tunnel, his heart pounding so hard it made his temples throb. He lifted the lantern at the end of the tunnel, but the floodlight was nowhere to be seen. He lowered the lantern and saw the false floor was back in place, closing Olivia off completely.

  Panicked, he pressed the trip switch on the ceiling and the floor panel slid silently back. He held the lantern into the opening, cursing when the light exposed only a couple of feet into the inky black. “Olivia! Olivia, can you hear me?”

  But no one answered. “Olivia!” He strained to make
out a noise, anything that might indicate she was still there and still breathing but the silence was deafening. He took a deep breath and tried to think. The bottom of the lift had to be in the basement. He needed to look in the basement.

  He left the tunnel and studied the wall in the bedroom, estimating the length from the front wall of the house to the lift in the tunnel was about twenty feet. Based on his assessment of the second floor rooms the day before, he figured the tunnel was thirty to forty feet from the west wall of the house. He pulled his pistol from his ankle holster and checked it, then slipped it into the back of his jeans. That floodlight hadn’t removed itself, and if he ran into whoever was playing games they were going to get a long look at the short end of a gun.

  He rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen where the entry for the basement was located. At the bottom of the basement stairs, he flipped the light switch to illuminate the cavernous space. It only took a second to get his bearings, then he hurried across the basement to a laundry area. The area was separated from the rest of the basement with a partial wall and the lights were out in the entire section. John had noticed it when working in the basement the day before, but hadn’t thought much of it. Now he wished he had.

  He held the lantern close to the wall, scanning every inch of it with his eyes and free hand. This had to be it. His calculation of where the chute dropped was correct. But he found nothing to indicate an opening. Damn it. The desire to punch his fist straight through the brick wall was overwhelming and he struggled to get his raging emotions under control.

  He had to think. He had to think quickly and accurately.

  Looking back at the basement stairs, he assessed the distance once more but couldn’t find anything off from his original assessment. It was here. It had to be. Desperation overwhelming him, he lifted a loose brick from the ground and was just about to smash it into the wall when he heard something. He froze, certain he was imagining things, but it was still there. It was faint, but he could hear a woman screaming.