Eve pushed it back, reached in, and grabbed a flashlight that she handed to Claire. “Inside,” she said. “I’m going to turn the light on out here, but try to keep that flashlight off if you hear voices. It could show through the cracks.” Claire nodded, a little dazed, and crouched down to crawl through the small opening into…a big empty room, stone floored, no windows. A few spiderwebs in the corners, and loads of dust, but otherwise it didn’t look too bad.

Until Eve shut the door, and then the darkness slammed down, and Claire hastily flicked on the flashlight, moved to the nearest corner, and knelt down there, breathing fast and hard.

Just one minute ago, they’d been laughing about bacon and eggs, and all of a sudden…what the hell had just happened? And why was there a secret compartment in this house? One with—so far as she could tell—no other entrances or exits?

She heard distant voices, and hastily thumbed off the flashlight. That was bad. She’d never really been afraid of the dark, but dark wasn’t really dark most of the time…. There were stars, moonlight, distant streetlights.

This was pitch-black, take-no-prisoners dark, and she had the ice-cold thought that anything could be right next to her, reaching out for her, and she’d never see it coming.

Claire bit down hard on her lip, gripped the flashlight tightly, and slid down the wall until her searching hand found the rough wood of the door she’d come in through. A little light was leaking in around it, barely a glimmer but enough to ease the pounding in her chest.

Voices. Shane’s, and someone else’s. A man’s voice, deeper than Shane’s. “…standard inventory.”

“Sir, there’s nobody living here but what’s on the roster. Just the three of us.” Shane sounded subdued and respectful, which didn’t seem like him. Not that she knew him that well, but he was kind of a smart-ass.

“Which one are you?” the voice asked.

“Shane Collins, sir.”

“Get your third in here,” the voice said.

“Well, I would, but—Michael’s not here. He’s out until tonight. You want to check back then?…”

“Never mind.” Claire, straining her ears, heard paper rustling. “You’re Eve Rosser?”

“Yes, sir.” Eve sounded respectful, but brisk.

“Moved out of your parents’ house—eight months ago?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Employed?”

“At Common Grounds, you know, the coffee—”

The man, whoever he was, interrupted her. “You. Collins. Any employment?” Clearly talking to Shane.

“I’m between jobs, sir. You know how it is.”

“Keep looking. We don’t like slackers in Morganville. Everybody contributes.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep it in mind, sir.”

A brief pause. Maybe there had been a little bit more smart-ass in Shane’s response than there should have been. Claire deliberately slowed her breathing, trying to hear more.