“That’s the magic of Edward King,” David said. “He made sure we were gone before anything big started happening with his campaign. He married Tina, former intern Tina, to use her full title. Tina is a good campaign wife. She has great teeth. Great big white teeth. It looks like she has a mouth full of kitchen cabinets. How am I doing so far with the full-disclosure thing?”
“It’s . . . a lot.”
“Good thing we’re at the end,” he said, stopping. “Literally. The end. Of the tunnel.”
“Let me see,” she said.
“How? I can’t move around you.”
“Bend down.”
David squashed himself down and Stevie shone her light at the wall. There was a short metal ladder, just eight rungs, leading up to a round hatch.
“Keep the light on it,” he said, standing again. He set his light down, shook the ladder once, then climbed and reached up his hand, testing the hatch, pushing hard.
“Nope,” he said. “That’s not opening. A long, dark journey into nothing. But good tunnel.”
He climbed back down. Stevie lowered her light so he would not be blinded. For a moment, they were face-to-face in the dark, though they could not really see each other. She turned her flashlight down to the ground.
“Why did you decide to tell me all this?” she said.
“Like I said. Clear the slate.”
“But why?”
“Because . . . my dad has messed up everything in my life. Now he’s making a career of messing up everyone’s lives. But he can’t have this. He can’t have you. It sounds cheesy, but it’s all I’ve got.”
But your dad does have me, she thought. Could she say it? Tell him right now?
He was reaching for her in the dark, his hand searching, landing on her shoulder, finding its way to her neck, to feel along her chin.
Tell him now. Tell him right now. He just told you everything.
He ran his fingers down her jawline gently. Her breath snagged and she leaned her hip up against the wall for support, which was easy because the wall was only an inch away. He kept coming closer, slowly, testing his way, until his chest was against hers and she did not move.
The heavy flashlight was weighing down her left hand. She found herself leaning down to put it on the ground. Then she rose and reached for his head with both hands, intertwining them in his curly hair. When her lips met his, she felt something release inside of her, something she didn’t know she had been holding. There was something frantic about the way she kissed him, like being with him was the only way she could breathe. They couldn’t move to the left or right, so they stayed locked together. She kissed down his neck and he let out a soft moan, then a little, happy laugh.
“This went better than I hoped,” he said. “I thought . . .”
“Shut up,” she said, kissing him again.
He reached around, gripping her and lifting her a few inches off the ground. Had there been enough room, she would have put her legs around him. But the tunnel walls did not stretch to accommodate her desires.
“There’s something,” he mumbled against her lips.
“What?” she mumbled back.
“Light. Nate has to be signaling.”
He set her down gently. She wished she could see his expression now, but they were blind to each other. He held her face in his hands for a long moment, saying nothing—not kissing, not moving, not seeing.
“Nate,” he said again, after a long pause.
“Nate,” she replied.
“Your turn to lead.”
She fumbled around, her hands shaking and her legs wobbly, trying to find the flashlight. Then she turned awkwardly. She was very glad that David had taken the lead on the way in, because she had only seen his back. Had she had a good look at the long, tight way forward, she would never have gone on, and what had just happened would never have happened.
They walked back, David at her heels, his hand playing with the tips of her hair, teasingly poking at her ribs, tickling the back of her neck. The world was perfect and hilarious all of a sudden, even if they were busted down here. It would all be all right. Her life had been building to this—this tunnel, this moment. She was warm and giddy. She was a new Stevie.
Her light caught something on the ground. At first glance, it was simply more black in a world of blackness, but this was a different, deeper black against the gray, and it had a bit of shine. She bent down and reached for the thing and David took the opportunity to reach around her waist and hug her.
“What is it?” David said. “Treasure?”
She held it under the flashlight beam. It was plastic. A bit of bag, shiny and black.
“Just a piece of bag,” she said.
There were no plastic bags in the thirties, probably. Probably? Stevie rubbed the fragment between her fingers. There was something, something that clicked in the back of her mind. Her brain was always doing that—clicking and not talking to her about the clicking.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Stevie said absently. The bit of plastic slid coolly between her fingertips. “It’s nothing.”
The internal clicking got louder. There was a Geiger counter in her brain. Then she saw it. It had been hard to see the way they came in, because it was on an angle—another opening, about two and a half feet wide.
“There’s another tunnel,” she said. She shone her light down into the space.
“I’m ashamed of myself for saying this,” David said, “but we should get back up before Pix comes home or Nate seals us in.”
Stevie took just a few steps into the new branch of tunnel. On the ground in front of her was another piece of plastic. She picked it up. It was the same shiny black plastic. Garbage bag plastic, that’s what it was.
Click. Click. Click. Her mind was going faster now, showing her picture after picture. Garbage bags in the kitchen at home. Her clothes in garbage bags when she came back to Ellingham. Garbage clothes. Ellie wearing a skirt made of garbage bags at the silent party . . .
Up ahead, there was some trash on the ground. That’s what it looked like anyway from a distance. There was a subtle sheen from more garbage bag plastic, then something formless, purple . . .
She didn’t have to go any farther to know what she had found.
INTERVIEW WITH MARION NELSON
CONDUCTED IN NEW YORK CITY BY AGENT HENRY EVANS, NYC OFFICE, AND AGENT GEORGE MARSH, VERMONT FIELD OFFICE
APRIL 20, 1936
HE: Thank you for coming in to speak to us, Miss Nelson.
MN: It’s no trouble at all. None at all.
HE: You understand what has transpired? I don’t need to explain anything to you.
MN: Yes. I know. I know about it.
HE: You are the housemistress of Minerva House at Ellingham Academy, is that correct?
MN: Correct.
HE: How did you get your position?
MN: I knew Mr. Ellingham from here, from New York. I worked as a secretary at his newspaper.
HE: Directly for him?
MN: No, for the editor in chief, Max Campbell. But I got to know Mr. Ellingham from his visits to the office. He was very involved in the day-to-day.
HE: You became friends.
MN: Yes.
HE: Good friends?
MN: I . . . yes. Good friends.
AGENT MARSH: We first met when you worked at the paper.
MN: Yes, when you saved Mr. Ellingham from that bomb.
HE: And he asked you to come and be a housemistress at his new school.
MN: Yes. He wanted people at the school he knew and trusted.
GM: You’re the only person from the newspaper to come and work at the academy, Miss Nelson. Just you.
MN: Yes.
GM: Why do you think you were the only one he brought from the newspaper?
MN: I suppose . . . I was the only one with the right skills. I’m not a reporter. I was a secretary.
HE: Did you have any other position at the school
? Did you teach?
MN: Biology.
HE: So you taught biology and lived at Minerva House.
MN: Yes.
HE: Miss Nelson, we’ve been going through the files on all the faculty at Ellingham Academy. None of the other faculty members had a direct connection to Albert Ellingham’s business life. Not just the newspaper. All the businesses.
MN: Yes. What of it?
HE: I understand that was not a question. Just an observation. It’s just that out of the hundreds and hundreds of people who work for Albert Ellingham, he chose you to come to the academy.
MN: And you, Mr. Marsh.
GM: I don’t work for Mr. Ellingham, Miss Nelson. I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I was posted locally to Mr. Ellingham. But he picked you, out of everyone who works for him.
MN: Like I said, Albert—Mr. Ellingham wanted people he knew. . . .
HE: You must be close. You call him Albert?
MN: I don’t know what you’re implying.
HE: Nothing at all. I am making an observation. But I now need to ask, Miss Nelson, and I must remind you of the serious nature of the matter at hand, is your relationship with Albert Ellingham . . . more than friendly?
[Subject had no reply.]
HE: Miss Nelson, I’m not asking this to embarrass you. I’m asking because we need to understand everything that happened at the academy that night. We need information.
MN: I know you need information.
HE: So will you please answer my question?
[Subject had no reply.]
HE: Miss Nelson, when you left Ellingham Academy, you took a train back to New York with several students. Then you went to an apartment at 1040 Fifth Avenue.
MN: Who told you that?
HE: It’s not important how we know. It’s important that we find out the facts. Is that correct?
MN: Yes.
HE: Who owns that apartment?
MN: The Ellingham Corporation. I don’t have an apartment of my own right now. I live at the school. Mr. Ellingham let me stay in one of his properties.
HE: And when did he tell you you could stay at one of his properties? When did he convey this to you?
MN: When . . . when he told us we had to go.
HE: Miss Nelson, do you understand that lying to a federal agent is a serious matter? I need to point out again that we need information if we are to find Iris and Alice Ellingham. Without information, there is nothing we can do. Any delay in getting that information means we are delayed in our search, and if we have false information, we go down false roads. Do you understand what I am saying?
[Subject is visibly distressed.]
MN: Oh God. Oh. How did this happen? Can we stop for a moment, please? Just a moment, please?
HE: Miss Nelson, I’m going to need you to be honest now. There is nothing to fear in being honest. We are not out to shame you or Mr. Ellingham. We just need to know. This is information that could be used against Mr. Ellingham, or you. We need to have it. Is your relationship with Albert Ellingham purely friendly?
MN: You know, you know! Why do you keep asking? Why do you keep asking what you know?
[Subject needed some time to regain composure.]
HE: How long has it been going on?
MN: Seven years.
HE: Does anyone else know? Does Mrs. Ellingham know?
MN: She doesn’t know. She’s . . . distracted.
HE: What does that mean?
MN: She’s . . . I don’t want to speak ill of her. I know how that looks, especially now. But you have to understand, she’s not like him. She’s not serious-minded. We understand each other. He can talk to me.
HE: On the night of the kidnapping, Mr. Ellingham could not be found for a period of approximately forty-five minutes, around two in the morning. He was in his office, and then, he wasn’t. Do you know anything about that missing time?
[Subject had no reply.]
GM: Take your time, Miss Nelson. We’re not looking to embarrass anyone. We just want to know what happened.
MN: We met.
GM: Where?
MN: We have a meeting place, where they’re building the gymnasium.
GM: Do you have any sense of how Mr. Ellingham got to you without being seen leaving his office, or the house?
MN: We have . . . a way.
[A photographic copy of the Truly Devious letter was presented.]
HE: Have you ever seen this letter?
MN: No.
HE: Did Albert Ellingham ever mention it to you?
MN: No.
HE: When you worked at the newspaper, did you get letters like this?
MN: We got threatening letters, of course. Someone put a bomb in Albert’s car there. We got letters, all sorts.
HE: Look at it carefully. Did you ever get anything like this at the newspaper?
MN: Nothing exactly like it. Never cut-out letters.
HE: Is there anything else that we should know about? Anything at all? Anything related to Iris or Alice?
MN: Little Alice. Oh. Albert lives for her. You don’t understand. He lives for that little girl. You’d think she was . . .
HE: Was what?
[Subject had no reply.]
HE: Was what, Miss Nelson?
MN: You’d think she was the only person in the world. That’s all. The only person in the world.
15
“DAVID,” STEVIE SAID QUIETLY. BETWEEN HER HEAVY HEARTBEAT AND the smell, she felt like she might vomit at any moment, but she had to hold it down, had to get some control over this. “Back up.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s blocked,” she said. “Just back up.”
No matter how calm she tried to keep her voice, there was a note in it that gave away the fact that something very bad was happening. He stepped around her to look to see what was in the passage.
“What the hell is . . .”
She heard him figure it out.
“Back up,” she said gently. “Back up, back up. This is how we help her.”
“Stevie . . .” There was a lightness in his voice. It was almost giddy.
“Turn around,” Stevie said, moving him back, foot by foot. “I need you to turn around.”
Now she was echoing Larry’s words to her. Turn around. Don’t look, because if you look it stays with you forever.
“We can’t leave her,” he said.
“We’re getting help. Turn. Come on.”
She had to maneuver him back into the main artery of the tunnel. Her adrenaline had taken over. Somehow, she knew how to do this, how to grab David’s hand and lead him back to the end.
When they reached the ladder, Nate was hanging over the opening, his wizard hood drooping around his neck.
“Up,” Stevie said. “Move, move.”
Nate backed up, and she and David scrambled out. When David got up, he staggered into the hallway and bent over, half gagging.
“What’s going on?” Nate said. “What’s down there?”
Stevie shook her head, partially because she could not find the words and partially to hold down the feeling of sickness.
“What is happening?” Nate said again.
“Ellie,” Stevie replied. “Ellie is down there.”
“Ellie is down there? Hiding? I have to call for help!”
Stevie shook her head, and Nate got the message and fell back against the wall.
Stevie pulled her phone from her pocket. David lurched along the wall and reached for it, pushing it down.
“Don’t. No, I have to call,” David said, pulling out his phone. “Both of you should go in your rooms. Put some headphones on. That’s where you’ve been. Play something loud. Go.”
“What?” Stevie said.
“You can’t have been down there, Stevie. You get it? Nate, you get it? She wasn’t there. I went down there alone. Just me.”
“What, we’re lying now?” Nate said. “To cops?”
“You know what it me
ans if Stevie was down there. I’ll be okay. She won’t be. All we’re doing is reporting. That’s all.”
There was an urgency in David that was entirely unfamiliar, a high flush to his cheeks and a rasp in his voice. Nate turned gray, as gray as the wizard robe he was still wearing.
“Just go in your rooms and shut the door,” David said again, his voice pleading. “That’s all you have to do.”
Nate swore under his breath but pulled himself away from the wall.
“Are you going?” he asked Stevie.
Stevie was not sure where she was. Moments ago, she had been in the tightness of the tunnel, in David’s arms, embraced by the earth, alone in the universe. Then, there was Ellie.
Nate shook Stevie’s arm.
“I’m not going if you’re not,” he said. “Tell me what you’re doing. I don’t understand anything right now.”
David looked at her. His hair was still tousled from where her hands had been. She had kissed the fine smoothness of his neck. . . .
The smell of the tunnel poisoned her memory.
David would be safe. Nate didn’t know why, of course.
“Yeah,” she said. “Go to your room.”
This felt entirely wrong, what she was doing for herself, but entirely right for Nate. Nate didn’t need this. Nate had been struggling enough with what happened to Hayes.
“Jesus Christ,” Nate said as he went past them, tripping on the hem of the robe as he went up the curve of the stairs.
Stevie gulped down some air. She started moving on autopilot, stumbling toward her room.
She heard the first arrivals about five minutes later. She had put in earbuds, but turned nothing on. Her heartbeat echoed back at her in her ears. There was another arrival. More voices in the common room, in the hall.
She turned on some music. Loud. She closed her eyes and put her head back against the wooden bed frame. When the knock came on Stevie’s door, she actually didn’t hear it at first. She had put the volume up too high. Pix eventually cracked the door.
“Stevie?” she said.
Stevie peeled her eyes open. The effort was tremendous, the light from the ceiling offensively bright.
“Stevie,” Pix said again. “Can you . . . stay in here for a few minutes? There’s something going on. Nothing to worry about. Security just has to look at something in the hallway.”
The Vanishing Stair Page 17
