A/N: Don't worry, folks, I'm still working on With A Vengeance. This is just a little two shot I wrote up in the middle of the night last night. If you read it in the dark maybe you'll find it as eerie as I do...
Disclaimer: Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys are not my characters and I am making no money from the writing of this story.
"And... we're in." Triumphantly, Frank Hardy held up the padlock that had barred entry to the wine cellar of the Rogues' Haven Inn. The heavy wooden door creaked as he eased it open.
Behind him, Nancy Drew held her breath, waiting to see if the noise had woken anyone; it was well past midnight, after all. When no one came to investigate, they slipped through onto the darkened cellar stairs, closing the door behind them and leaving themselves in pitch blackness.
"Start looking for clues." Frank whispered, joking.
There was a clicking sound, and a beam of light sliced through the darkness, illuminating Nancy's face. "All right." she grinned impishly. She handed her flashlight to Frank, who was on the stair below her. "You used to be a boy scout... I thought you'd be a little more prepared." she teased. As Frank descended into the dark cellar, she kept one hand on his elbow, letting him lead the way.
Frank shone the flashlight along the wall, where antique kerosene lanterns hung every couple of feet. "I did come prepared." he said. "I brought these." She couldn't see what he was holding up in the dark, but a few seconds later the flame of a match flickered into being. Quickly, he lit the bottom two lanterns, illuminating the majority of the cellar with a dim yellow light.
"Candlelight." Nancy remarked, accepting her flashlight back. "Kinda old-fashioned, but I like your style."
"What can I say? I'm a romantic." Frank shrugged.
Nancy ducked her head, hoping her blush wasn't visible in the darkness. There was just something special about Frank Hardy... something that could make her knees weak at the most inopportune moments, like when they were covertly searching a creepy wine cellar for clues about a woman's disappearance. Even though investigating was her job, and serious business, working with Frank somehow made her feel like they had come to this remote New England inn for a vacation.
When Faye Lawrence, an old acquaintance of Nancy's, had called her over the weekend, distraught over her missing sister Chrissie, Nancy had immediately thought to call on Frank and his brother, Joe, to assist her with the case. They had traced Chrissie to the Rogues' Haven Inn, the last place she had been seen. Rogues' Haven was a quaint mountain getaway, miles from the nearest town. The inn itself was very old, built in classic New England style, all red brick and gray slate. Besides Nancy and the Hardys, there were only two other guests: an elderly couple celebrating their fiftieth anniversary.
The proprietors of the establishment, a middle-aged couple named Branson, were quiet but pleasant. They had told the detectives that Chrissie Lawrence had come alone, stayed for a week, and checked out five days ago. At first, Nancy had been unsure whether her disappearance was truly a case. According to Faye, Chrissie was a real nature enthusiast, and Rogues' Haven was an outdoorsman's paradise—secluded from civilization, with miles and miles of trails for hiking and snowshoeing, areas for hunting, and a small lake for boating and fishing. Although she could never have suggested it to Faye, Nancy had wondered if Chrissie might not have simply wandered into the woods and gotten lost or injured. She and the Hardys had explored the nearby trails to no avail, however, and the local sheriff and his deputies had swept the surrounding area with cadaver dogs with the same result.
The case had taken a morbid turn when the local sheriff had happened to mention a handful of other disappearances in the area over the past few years. Though only one man was actually reported missing, four other men and women had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, the last one just weeks before Chrissie. They were later ruled death by accidents—one presumed lost in a boating mishap, one a wild animal attack, and so on—but no bodies were ever recovered.
And if that hadn't been enough to convince her that something sinister was happening here, Joe had disappeared yesterday.
Frank was trying to stay calm about it—over the years Joe had proven himself just as talented at getting himself out of scrapes as into them—but Nancy could practically feel the undercurrent of anxiety radiating off of him. She wanted to say something to reassure him, but she knew that there was nothing she could say. The only thing that would truly ease his mind would be finding his brother safe and well.
The two detectives spread apart as they ventured farther into the basement, looking for clues. The wine cellar had featured on the brief tour Gary and Marlene Branson had given them of the inn, but they'd spent very little time inside. Nancy had grown suspicious when she'd noticed how fastidious they were about locking and relocking the padlock on the door. Sure, it was possible that they were just protecting their valuable collection of wines, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they might be trying to hide something besides a few impressive bottles of sherry.
"I guess it was too much to hope that we'd find Joe tied to a chair down here." Frank said, crouching down to look under a rack of wine.
"We'll find him, Frank." Nancy promised sympathetically. "That is, if he doesn't find us first."
"Yeah." Frank said, meeting her eyes and nodding. "You're right. I know you're right." He ducked his head to walk under the stairs and hissed as he hit his knee on a stack of bricks that was concealed by the darkness. "Guess they're planning on doing some home repairs." he commented, looking at the pair of mason's trowels and bucket of quick-dry mortar sitting beside them.
Nancy was shining her flashlight on one of the far walls. "Could be." she murmured, but she was lost in thought. There was something strange about this particular area of wall and it took her a minute to put her finger on it. The mortar—the cement between the bricks—was a slightly brighter white in this area than around the bricks next to it. About a foot off the ground, she spotted a thin black piece of metal sticking out of the mortar. Kneeling down, she grabbed hold of it and pulled. After a bit of wiggling there was a snap and the piece of metal slid out of the wall. Nancy looked at it under the flashlight, puzzled. It looked like one of the earpieces from a pair of glasses.
"Frank? Do Gary or Marlene wear glasses?"
Frank thought for a moment. "I haven't seen either of them wear glasses, no. Why?"
"No reason." Suddenly Nancy felt cold all over. She didn't know why she'd had this awful thought, but once it had crossed her mind, it wouldn't leave. She tried to shine her light into the hole the earpiece had come out of, but it was too dark. Scooting back a few times, she reached for one of the trowels lying under the staircase. She placed the tip of it against the hole and tapped the end of it.
The mortar cracked easily. Much too easily. As if the builder had only put mortar on the front half-inch of the brick.
Or as if, after the wall was built, someone had been scraping away the fresh mortar from the inside.
Nancy's hands shook as she gave the mortar another tap, this time on the other side of the brick. This time, when it cracked, she felt the brick come loose. Her shaking hands used the trowel to pry the brick all the way out of the wall.
On some level, she must have known what she would find, because she dropped the trowel and flashlight with a clatter and instead used her hands to stifle the scream that bubbled up in her throat. Still, a strangled cry escaped her.
She was staring at part of a human face. A dark eyebrow, one closed eye, a nose that was already partially decomposed. An awful stench wafted out of the hole, and Nancy's stomach churned. One hand still clasped over her mouth, she quickly picked up the brick and shoved it back in its place.
A second later Frank was by her side. "What is it? Nan?" he whispered frantically.
She let him help her to her feet and then pressed her face into his chest. "There's... oh, god, Frank. There's a body in the wall."
She felt him tense against her. Pulling back, she looked up and saw all the color drain out of his face. "Is... Is it-It's not-?" he stammered.
Nancy's eyes widened in realization. "No! Oh, no, it's not Joe." She clasped both his hands in her own, not sure whether she was taking comfort or doing the comforting. "It's not Joe." she repeated. "I think... I think it was the girl. The one who disappeared right before Chrissie. Who they said died in a boating accident."
Frank didn't seem the slightest bit comforted; in fact, his expression was looking sicker by the moment. Nancy watched his eyes pan along the walls for a minute before she realized why.
All along the length of the cellar, every six or eight feet, was another patch of bricks held together with bright mortar.
She counted them. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Five. But that wasn't right. There were seven missing people, including Chrissie and Joe.
Joe! This was like a nightmare. Could Joe be trapped in one of these walls, just feet from them, slowly starving or suffocating to death?
Dead already?
Frank was evidently pondering the same disturbing thought, because he picked up the trowel Nancy had dropped and stared, wild-eyed, between the bright patches, as if trying to decide where to dig first.
Nancy tried to calm her queasy stomach by taking a few deep breaths. Everything inside her was screaming at her to getoutgetoutgetout of this pit of horrors, but if Frank was going to tear this place apart looking for Joe—and he was, she had no doubt of that—there was nothing to do except help him do it. She turned around to get the other trowel... and found herself staring straight into the enraged eyes of Gary Branson. She yelped in surprise. "Mr. Branson!"
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Gary drawled. How had Nancy ever thought he seemed pleasant? Those eyes, that grin... he was clearly deranged.
"Frank and I were just-" Nancy groped frantically for Frank's hand, trying to sell a cover story that no one would believe. She batted her eyelashes and lowered her eyes to the ground, as though she were embarrassed. "We just wanted to be alone."
Gary cracked up. "Just wanted to be alone!" he cackled. "Sure, no problem!"
Frank dropped Nancy's hand and lunged at Branson, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "Where's my brother?" he gritted out. "Is he still alive? Tell me!"
"Aw, he's still alive." Branson drawled. One hand came out of his pocket and pressed a gun to Frank's ribs. "But you won't be if you don't get back." he finished in a hard tone.
Muscles ticking in his jaw, Frank let go of Gary's shirt and stepped back next to Nancy.
"So I guess you seen what we got in the walls." Gary said in an oddly conversational tone. It sent a chill down Nancy's spine.
"Does your wife know what you do down here?" she spat accusingly.
"Ayuh. Think she does." Gary grinned. He called up the stairs. "Isn't that right, honey?"
"Isn't what right?" Marlene asked, coming down the stairs herself. "And stop shouting, you'll wake Mr. and Mrs. Winters." She looked from Frank and Nancy to her husband and back. "Well shit."
"Eh, Mr. and Mrs. Winters'll sleep through anything. They turn off their hearin' aids 'fore bed." Gary said.
"And what're you doin' with these two?" Marlene asked, waving a hand at Frank and Nancy. "What about the kid in the barn?"
Gary shrugged. "He can be the boat accident survivor, for all I care. But these two gotta go. They seen too much. They been diggin' in the walls."
"Why did you kill all those people?" Nancy asked. She was ignored.
"All right." Marlene sighed. She went back up the stairs and came back momentarily with some rope and a roll of duct tape. She tossed the rope to Nancy. "Sweetie, tie up your boyfriend. Wrists and ankles, come on now."
"Why?" Nancy asked.
"'Cause the man with the gun says to." Gary said, waving the gun.
Eyes wide, Nancy looked at Frank, hesitating. They both knew that once he was immobilized, their odds of escaping dropped dramatically, especially when, against Gary, Marlene, and a gun, they were outnumbered at it was.
"I could shoot him right here if you'd rather." Gary offered. "It might wake the Winters, but I'll bet I could convince them it was nothing more than the wind slamming the barn door." He flexed his finger on the trigger.
"Don't!" Nancy cried. She turned to Frank. "Give me your hands."
Frank's jaw clenched again but he nodded at her, moving his hands together behind his back. Nancy knotted the rope quickly around them, tying them tightly enough to stay on, but leaving him just a bit of wiggle room. He'd gotten out of worse, she was sure.
At least, she hoped.
"Now his ankles." Gary said. He frowned at Frank and gestured with the gun. "Help the lady out, son. Sit down."
Gingerly, Frank sat down on the floor, moving his ankles together so Nancy could tie them. Her hands faltered slightly as she looped the second piece of rope around his legs; no matter why she was doing it, every move she made was damning them further. Worse, it felt like a betrayal.
"Hey..." Frank whispered. Her eyes snapped to his, and he raised his eyebrows, just a little, in encouragement. She nodded and pulled the knot tight. He needed her to be strong, and she could do that, for him.
"Isn't that sweet?" Gary laughed. "One more thing. A piece of tape over his mouth, if you please, Miz Drew."
Nancy scowled at him, but ripped a piece of duct tape off the roll and smoothed it over Frank's lips. "Fine, alright. It's done."
"Not quite." Gary said. He looked back at his wife. "How's it coming with that mortar, darlin'?"
Nancy's heart froze in her chest as she looked behind Gary to Marlene. While she had been tying Frank's bonds, Marlene had left the cellar to fetch a bucket of water, which she was now adding meticulously to the powdered quick-dry mortar that had been sitting under the stairs. She spun around, following the modified cellar wall all the way to the end, where there was a niche in the corner, about three feet by five, set into the wall like a doorless closet. "No." she gasped, looking to Frank.
He didn't seem surprised, and she wondered if he'd reached the conclusion faster than she had.
"Well what did you think we were gonna do?" Gary asked. His next words were directed at Frank. "You should appreciate this, at least. We were saving that space for the girl you came looking for, and then, when your brother found her, snoopin' around the trap door in the barn, we figured he could take her place." he grinned. "Now you can take his."
"No, please, no." Nancy pleaded.
Gary ignored her. "We're runnin' outta wall space." he lamented, shaking his head. "Anyway, son, I'm gonna need you to scoot on back there into the wall."
Frank stared at Gary with hard eyes, not moving.
"I'll ask you one more time." Gary said, and Nancy felt an arm wrap around her throat and a gun pressed to her temple. "Scoot on in there."
She watched with horror as Frank did.
"Mortar's ready." Marlene said.
Gary tightened his hold on Nancy's neck and walked them both forward, and for a second Nancy had a vision of herself being forced to brick up the wall with Frank inside. "No." she ground out against the choking force on her windpipe.
"Don't you ever shut up?" Gary growled, grinding the gun against her head. "That stuff dries fast. We only got fifteen minutes."
"Frank..." Nancy gasped out. He didn't move, just looked her in the eye, and she could tell that now, he was trying to stay calm for her.
"Don't forget to worry about yourself." Gary said. "Because neither of you is going anywhere."
"Ever again." Marlene added.
The pressure on Nancy's throat increased, and spots started to swim before her eyes. Frank began shouting, his cries muffled by the tape. His face was the last thing she saw before her vision went black and she passed out.
A/N: The Bransons' wine collection initially consisted of aged burgundies, but I felt that I should change it to sherry to really complete the homage to one of my favorite short stories by a classic American author. Five points and the next chapter to anyone who can guess what variety of sherry is in those bottles!
And, for heaven's sake, don't forget to tell me what you thought of the story! Conclusion coming soon!