We look down on the scene, where the deputies are busy. The sheriff removes his hat and scratches his balding scalp. “Well, you two go ahead with that then. I appreciate your help, Detective.”

“You’re helping us too. I think together we’ll get this figured out.”

His eyes are hopeful, and I see how this woman’s disappearance has weighed on him. There’s relief there that she’s been found, but sorrow too that he couldn’t bring her home alive. All we can work toward now is justice.

* * *

Chase has found a couple of cans of ginger ale somewhere, and Mrs. Bradley and Alice sit tucked up together on the couch, sodas in their hands, when I enter the living room. He looks up at me, as if to ask, What do we do now?

“Mrs. Bradley,” I say, “we’d like to take a look at the basement.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Okay.”

“The door would be?”

She points back toward the mudroom.

“Will you two be okay here if Detective Fuller joins me?”

She nods.

“You won’t go anywhere?”

“ No.”

I flip a switch just inside the basement door, and dim light illuminates a wooden staircase. The air is icy as we descend. The walls are stone, and the age of the house is readily apparent as we make our way down.

“Creepy place,” Chase says as we hit bottom. The floor is also made of stone, which is slick with condensation. There are a few small windows at the tops of the walls, and snow blocks them halfway up. Cobwebs hang from every corner, and what looks like old farm equipment, rusting and covered with dust, is pushed against the wall. “Doesn’t look like anyone comes down here much,” Chase says, wiping his hand on his jacket.

We walk forward, and I thumb on my flashlight. The smell of dirt and decay hangs in the air. But there’s something else, something pungent that becomes more fetid as we move deeper into the basement.

I pivot and shine my light back toward the stairs. “Nothing much at this end except the furnace and water heater.” And they’re close by the stairs. No need for anyone to access the rest of the place, I guess. I turn back toward the far end of the basement, and there’s light coming from somewhere ahead. Chase and I walk on and discover a door with a small window in it, the source of the light. I open the door, and we’re standing at the beginning of what looks like a long stone hallway with an arched ceiling. The floor dips and slopes down. Double metal doors are at the end.

“This is strange,” I say.

Chase is behind me. “Look at this, Rita.”