It might have been sealed before, Abby thought, but not anymore. The police had taken sledgehammers to it.
Now, a dark hole gaped before them, running beneath the earth. The artificial light from the cellar faded into the far reaches. David Caswell held a large searchlight and started moving slowly into the dank tunnel.
“Shall we?” Jackson asked, pulling out a flashlight, as well.
Abby felt Malachi’s hand on the small of her back as he guided her forward.
Light played over the walls of the tunnel. There were places where the earth had fallen in and other places where plaster or wooden walls remained to shore it up.
They walked for about fifty feet and came to a dead end.
Jackson, David and Malachi tapped on the solid wall of earth they’d reached, listening for a hollow sound that would indicate the tunnel had been blocked but continued. Malachi used the end of his light to dig at the earth. He hit more earth.
They tried, moving along, casting the light in different directions, tapping and searching, but an hour later, they remained frustrated.
“Nothing,” Jackson said. “I could’ve sworn there’d be something,”
“Me, too,” David Caswell agreed.
“We can get some engineers down here tomorrow,” Jackson said, “and see if we’re missing anything. For now...”
“For now we have to give it up?” Abby asked.
“An engineer will uncover what we can’t,” Malachi told her.
“Right.” Abby felt deflated; she’d been so certain they’d find something.
They trudged back out of the tunnel. Steve and the other officers remained in the cellar.
“We’ll call it a night and get someone in here tomorrow,” David announced.
Jackson stepped forward to thank Steve for all his help. “Hey, it’s my city,” Steve said. “And it tears at my heart to hear about the bad things that are happening. Whatever I can do...”
“Sorry about wrecking the wall,” Jackson reminded him.
“Easy to fix,” Steve assured them. “Don’t worry about it.”
They left, going up to the tavern and out to the street, where David, Jackson, Malachi and Abby stood together, looking at one another.
They resembled kids who’d been playing in the mud, Abby thought. “Well,” David said with a wry grin. “Time to hit the showers.”
“Bianca Salzburg hasn’t surfaced, has she?” Abby said. It wasn’t really a question.
Bianca, her disappearance, had to be the reason for tonight’s exertions.
“No,” David admitted. “She’s still missing.”
“He has her,” Abby said.
David turned to Jackson. “We traced her cell phone. The signal disappeared somewhere around here. That’s why we needed to tear everything up at the restaurant. But I have men on the riverfront. We might go broke on overtime, but we’re leaving nothing unturned. We have police vessels out on the river and the coast guard, too. We’re doing everything we possibly can.”
Abby nodded. “But—”
“We have to quit for tonight,” Jackson said decisively. “Everyone needs to sleep.”
They wished one another a good night. Then Abby and Malachi returned to the Dragonslayer.
Grant Green was at the desk when they walked in. “My God!” he said, staring at the two of them, mouth agape. Guests were still having dinner in the dining rooms; a few people—along with the trio of Bootsie, Aldous and Dirk—were at the bar. Grant hurried around the host stand to meet them. “What have you been doing?”
“Playing in the dirt,” Abby said facetiously.
“Okay, never mind.” Grant sighed. “How’s Helen?”
“Doing well.”
“What about the other girl? The one Roger was seeing?” Grant asked.
“No one knows yet,” Malachi told him.
“That—that bastard!” Grant sputtered. “He takes a new one the minute he...loses one. Can’t you stop him?”
“We will stop him,” Malachi said.
“Are you getting any closer?”
No! Abby wanted to scream. How is he doing this? How is he eluding this kind of manhunt?
“I believe we are,” Malachi responded. “Thanks to Abby, one girl is alive. And with the police prowling the river now and all the searches taking place out there...he’ll be caught.”
“Soon, I hope!” Grant said.
“Every criminal makes a mistake at some point,” Malachi insisted. “That’s when we’ll get him.”
“Uh, you might want to clean up first,” Grant said, looking pointedly at Abby.
“I’m going upstairs now. Oh, Grant, can you ask the chef to make us something to eat?” she asked. “You can send it up—”
“Or,” Malachi interrupted, “we can eat at the bar. Join Dirk, Bootsie and Aldous.”
“Okay,” Abby said. “But first, a shower.”
Malachi came with her, but didn’t seem to notice that she was shrugging out of her muddy clothing as they entered the apartment. He repeated his inspection, making sure no one was inside, under the beds, in the closets. He headed back to the bank of computer screens to watch what was going on in the restaurant.
Abby cleared her throat. “I’m hopping in the shower,” she told him.
He nodded; he didn’t even glance up. So much for her appeal.
Hot water had seldom felt so good. Well, other than the night before, after she’d plunged into the river...
It felt sensuously good. Despite everything they were frantically doing in their desperate new search to find another young woman, she wished Malachi would join her.
She almost needed him.
She pictured him walking into the bathroom, stripping off his clothing, imagined the sleek feel of his naked flesh and his hands on her breasts.
But he didn’t come in.
She emerged, feeling a little embarrassed. When she returned to the living room area, having donned jeans and a T-shirt to head back down for dinner, Malachi was still studying the screens, fixated on them. But he immediately sensed her standing behind him.
“The soap... You smell wonderful,” he told her. There was a husky note in his voice and a darkening in the hazel of his eyes as he watched her; it made her knees tremble.
“You would’ve been welcome to join me,” she said.
He smiled, an ironic twist to his lips. “I had to know that this apartment was safe.”
She smiled. He stood and started to touch her but drew back. “Go down and join our friends at the bar. Try to casually find out what they’ve been doing all day.”
She wanted to argue with him. Bootsie, Dirk and Aldous—these men were bulwarks in her life. They couldn’t be guilty of anything. Will Chan had been watching Dirk and the Black Swan. Bootsie was old. Aldous...
Aldous was healthy and fit—and not all that old. He’d always looked like a pirate with his gleaming bald head and single gold earring.
He had money. Enough money to do whatever he wanted. His business was a shipping company; he had ships and boats at his disposal.
She didn’t say anything, but Malachi gave her another rueful smile. “I see your mind working,” he said.
“Aldous?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I’m sure your FBI friends have checked out everything they possibly can on him. As far as I know, he’s never even had a parking ticket.”
His grin deepened at that. “Hey, you’re the one who’s actually a fed at the moment,” he reminded her.