Bo was pacing slowly around the foyer examining the damage when Steve and Kayla started down the stairs. Hearing their footsteps on the hard wooden steps, he looked up at them as they came into view.
"Does the rest of the house look as bad as the entry hall?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so," Kayla replied. "Some areas are worse than others. It just makes me so mad! These people had no respect at all."
"Thanks for coming," Steve said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "There is no way we could have searched that larder without lights."
"Well, we're anxious to get this thing resolved too. Sorry we're a bit later than I said we'd be. We were going to bring the generator out in my SUV, but we don't want to lift it in and out of the vehicle because it's heavy. And the SUV is enclosed, so it would leave fumes inside the cab. So we looked around for a truck to borrow. We talked Abe Carver into letting us use his. We also brought a couple of those hanging utility lights and plenty of extension cord, since we weren't sure just how far into the house this larder is."
"It's just off the kitchen. It's under the pantry," Steve explained. "Drive the truck on around the side of the house, and we can run the power cord through the back door."
Bo nodded. "Sounds good. We noticed the grass is pretty high. Do you know of any rocks or other obstacles that might be hiding in all those weeds that might damage the truck? Abe'll tack our hides to the bulletin board if we bottom out his new truck!"
Steve shook his head. "Shouldn't be, unless someone carried stuff in. I cleaned up all the rocks and things like that when Stephanie was little because I didn't want her to hurt herself."
"Watch out for the holes," Kayla cautioned. "They won't be any problem for the truck, but they could sprain an ankle pretty easily. I stepped in one that day I came out to look around."
"These were the holes those guys dug looking for buried treasure?"
"The very same."
The rather impatient honk of a vehicle horn drew their attention to the front door, and when they looked out, Roman gave them a "what's the hold up?" gesture.
"Big brother's getting impatient," Bo said. Turning back to Steve, he said, "Okay, we'll see you around back."
Bo went back out through the front door and Steve watched him as he jogged toward the truck. Then he closed the door and turned the deadbolt, assuring that no one without a key could find access through that entrance. After a quick glance through the peephole, assuring himself that the police car was still parked in the long driveway behind the rental car, he and Kayla returned to the kitchen and opened the back door.
Stepping outside on the decaying, weathered deck, they watched as Abe Carver's shiny red truck came around the corner of the house, bouncing and rolling across the pitted, uneven landscape. A wide swath of flattened grass was left in the wake of the vehicle.
"We're going to have to get a brush hog out here to cut that grass," Steve mused, his eye scanning the scope of the back yard. "Not to mention a riding lawn mower. It'll take me all day to mow the lawn with a walk-behind." With the toe of his boot, he nudged at a rotting section of the planking. "Who put in the deck?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you about that?" Kayla asked.
"No."
"We think Alamain's cousin installed it and the privacy screen over there to give the illusion that legitimate work was going on inside the house while they tore up the walls and floor. That way, the neighbors wouldn't get suspicious with all the comings and goings. Roman thought they probably had work vans with phony business names on the sides to further the illusion."
"Ah, I see. No one would think twice about seeing a drywall van or a lumber truck in the driveway if they thought renovations were being done."
"Right."
"It's obvious they didn't care if the deck lasted, though," Steve said, squatting down to examine the planks. With his fingers, he picked at the grain, pulling up several long splinters. "They used untreated wood, apparently the cheapest they could find, from the looks of it, and they didn't bother with any kind of preserver. I'll have to take this out."
"The design they used doesn't go with the house anyway," Kayla agreed. "I think we can put something in that compliments the age and style of the house."
Steve rose to his feet again when Roman parked the truck beside the deck. The two police officers got out of the cab and approached the rotting steps, which Roman examined with a critical eye.
"That looks even worse than you described," he said. "Are you sure it's safe?"
Kayla shrugged. "It held my weight and that of the young officer who came by while I was here, but I'd be careful just the same."
"All right." Roman lowered the tailgate of the truck and reached inside the bed, withdrawing two old fashioned oval shaped cage lights with reflectors and hooks, a toolbox, and a long curving pry bar. He transferred all of them to the edge of the deck. "Steve, if you will take these inside, Bo and I will fire up the generator."
"Sure thing," Steve said, stepping forward to retrieve the objects.
Kayla picked up the two lights while Steve picked up the heavier toolbox and pry bar, and they carried them inside and placed them on the countertop near the double sinks. Outside, they heard the generator being powered up.
While her brothers worked on preparing the generator, Kayla walked slowly around the kitchen area in which she had cooked so many meals during their marriage. Most of the cabinet doors were open, the panels inside smashed in search of secret compartments. The refrigerator had been pulled away from its cubby and behind it, a hole had been pounded in the sheetrock, leaving a gaping hole with pink insulation visible. The gas stove had also been pulled away from its spot between the counters.
The small round table still stood in the nook, now dusty with years of neglect, and the floor was littered with debris that crunched under their shoes when they walked. The windows were still boarded over, leaving the kitchen and nook rather dark.
"Oh, Steve," Kayla lamented. "How could they do this?"
"I know, baby," he said, soothingly. "We'll fix it, I promise."
"You were right about the holes in the yard," Bo said, stepping inside the kitchen. A yellow extension cord trailed behind him like a long yellow snake. Picking up one of the utility lights, he plugged the cord into it. "I took a pretty good tumble out there."
"You're not hurt, are you?" Kayla asked, concerned.
"No, but Roman isn't likely to let me forget about it."
Roman followed him inside, trailing a second extension cord. "You should have seen the dance he was doing before he went down."
"See what I mean?" Bo asked, casing a meaningful look at Steve and Kayla.
"Okay," Roman said, changing the subject abruptly. "The generator's going, so let's see what we can find out. We called Shane to see if he wanted to help out, but he's not answering his phone."
"Oh, he and Kim took Jeannie to the Aquarium."
"Okay, we'll let him know later. Where is this larder?"
Steve pointed toward the pantry. "It's in there."
Stepping into it, Roman hung one of the utility lights from one of the many shelves, now empty and dusty, and flipped it on.
"Did you build these shelves yourself?" Bo asked, impressed with the floor to ceiling sets of shelves that adorned all four walls.
"Yeah. Built the shelves and installed the linoleum," Steve replied.
"You did a good job," Roman said. "Ever think of doing this for a living?"
"No, not really."
"Maybe you should. You could open your own business. Just a thought, in case you don't enjoy working at the pub."
Steve gave a shrug. "Something to think about," he agreed.
"It's a shame to pull up this linoleum," Bo said, regretfully.
Steve sighed with equal regret, remembering the time and effort he had put into providing a professional appearance to the work. "Well, it can be replaced."
Using the pry bar, Steve, Roman, and Bo pried the base molding away and tossed it back out the door, then began pulling up the linoleum, which Steve had so carefully tacked to the floor.
Bo then took the pry bar back to the counter and placed it beside the toolbox. Then he returned to the pantry just as Roman and Steve folded the linoleum back against the wall, exposing the large square access hatch that was flush with the wooden floor that surrounded it.
"You understand, there may be nothing at all down there," Steve reminded them. "However, this is the only place they do not appear to have searched. I'm sure they never imagined that there was another room down there. I thought maybe we should check it out, just to be sure."
"I agree," Roman assured him. "Whether we find anything or not, we need to check all leads. You and Kay may never have a normal life until this is put to bed, once and for all. Finding whatever it is that Alamain is looking for is the only way you can ever have any peace."
"Are you sure there's enough cord to reach that far down?" Kayla asked.
"Yeah, there's plenty," Ro replied. Why did you cover this up, anyway? Seems like it would be a great storage room."
"We did it when Kayla was pregnant with Stephanie," Steve told him. "We wanted to use this as the pantry, but we were afraid that when she started walking and exploring, she'd get the hatch open and fall in. It's a pretty long fall for a baby or toddler."
"Good reason. And you just today remembered that it was there?"
"Yeah. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. I haven't thought about that room in years."
"Neither did I," Kayla added.
Roman opened the hatch, and an ancient, musty smell was emitted from the underground room below. Leaning over the edge, he inserted his hand with one of the lights into the hole and examined the steps below. It wasn't much more than a ladder set at a steep 70-degree angle. The steps had no backings, but were open with two by four rungs.
Roman withdrew from the hatch, his eyes going to Steve. "Do you know if these steps are original?"
Steve shook his head, negatively. "I wouldn't think so. This house is over a hundred and fifty years old, and those steps are underground where it holds in humidity. They were in pretty good shape when Kayla and I explored it years ago, but I can't say what condition they're in now."
"Guess we're going to find out. When you explored it before, did you find any closets or cabinets? Anything that might conceal a hiding place?"
"No, there's nothing like that down there. The walls are made of plywood, though, so it could be covering up built-ins or cubby holes."
He glanced at the steps again. "I'll go first, but wait until I get to the bottom before anyone else comes down. I'll let you know if they're in good enough shape for everyone to come down."
"Be careful," Kayla begged. "I don't want anyone to get hurt over this."
"It isn't that deep, Kay," he replied. "If I fall, I doubt if it would hurt too badly."
"Be careful anyway," she urged.
With a smile, he stepped over the edge and started down.
"Feels pretty sturdy," he announced, carefully feeling his way down, one rung at a time, testing each one for stability before placing his entire weight on it. Several steps groaned a little, but he felt no bowing the wood and no slippage of the nails that secured them.
He reached the bottom without mishap, and looked around for something on which to hang the utility light. He was quick to notice that there were no light sockets or electrical outlets of any kind, and he understood that the larder had not been used since electricity had been installed. Once electricity had been installed, refrigerators had taken the place of the cool earthen enclosure, so power had been unnecessary.
Using the utility light to guide the way, his searching eyes found an ancient rusty hook attached to a cross beam that must have been placed there for the original occupants to hang their kerosene lanterns. The metal ring at the top of the utility light was hung on the hook, which freed up his hands.
Bo started down next, and when he reached the bottom, he stepped aside to make room for Steve to follow.
When Steve was halfway down, he looked up at Kayla, who watched from the opening. "You coming?"
"No. I want to be able to hear Stephanie. She's still upstairs. I'll stay up here in case you need anything."
"Okay." He completed the descent into the cool air of the old larder, joining Bo and Roman, who were moving slowly around the room, examining the walls and shelves. Only a small amount of rot was evident in the darkened wood.
Roman was walking slowly along the perimeter, tapping his knuckles against the wood behind the shelves, listening to the dull thud that told him there was no hollow areas behind it.
"There are plenty of shelves," Bo asked when Steve stepped off the ladder. "Lots of places to store their goods. You said you've been down here before?"
"Yeah, but only once. The house is so big and has so much room for storage, that we didn't really need any additional space," Steve replied. "I came down to explore, but there wasn't anything down here to see, so there wasn't much point in coming down again. I remember I had to use a flashlight."
"The reason I ask is because the walls are in pretty good condition. Too good, in fact, to be original. And the shelving is obviously modern. I was just wondering who replaced the old wood."
"It was already that way when we moved in."
"What about Corelli?"
Steve shrugged. "I doubt it. The place was pretty run-down when we moved in. I don't think he owned enough possessions to warrant any upgrades." He scratched his head, thinking. "Actually, I'm not even sure how long he owned the house or how he came to have possession of it, or even if he actually lived here."
"Well, none of that will be important if we don't find anything down here. And it doesn't look too promising," he added.
Just then, they heard a hollow thump as Roman's knuckles found an area without a solid wall behind it. They both turned toward him, surprised.
"Boys, I think things just got a little more interesting," he said.
Kayla was unable to hear the words that were spoken in the larder beneath her feet, but she could hear the sudden change in Roman's rather muffled voice, and she leaned over the hatch, her hands on her knees as she peered into the muted light below. "Did you find something?"
Steve's face appeared directly below, looking up at her. "Yeah, maybe. Toss down that pry bar. We need to remove a section of plywood paneling."
"Okay, where is it?"
"I left it on the kitchen cabinet," Bo called up.
"Okay, give me a sec."
Stepping out of the pantry, Kayla went to the long kitchen cabinet where Bo had left the pry bar. As she picked up the tool and turned toward the pantry again, she heard the slow creak of a floorboard, as if under the weight of a human foot.
She stopped and cocked her head toward the direction of the sound, concentrating on the nuances of the old house, waiting for a reoccurrence. Birds continued to twitter in the trees outside, and a cardinal fluttered past the open back door where Bo and Roman had dragged their long yellow power cords, a flurry of brilliant red feathers. Somewhere in the distance, a neighbor's dog barked, and farther out a horse whinnied. Normal sounds typical of the area. But the sound she had heard had definitely been inside the house.
"Stephanie, is that you?" she called.
She waited, listening for a response from her daughter, an answer that did not come. Moving to the stairway closet, she opened the door, thinking the teen had decided to try the hidden staircase, but she saw only the long narrow passage with the row of steps leading up to the second story.
Her brow puckered in a slight frown, listening intently. After a moment, she closed the door again. As she started toward the entry hall, she heard another creaking sound and turned toward the entry hall, watching as a mild breeze caused it to drift slowly closed before it stopped against the power cord. It was the old hinges, reminding her that the house's hardware needed oiling and cleaning.
She gazed at it for a long moment, certain that it was not the same sound she had heard. Her eyes shifted to the windows, still boarded up, and then traveled around the kitchen. Nothing seemed to be out of place, yet she could not shake that uneasy feeling that something was wrong.
"Kayla?" Bo's muffled voice broken the intense silence. "What's the hold up? Can't you find it? It's right there on the cabinet by the toolbox."
"Got it!" she called back.
Then, with one last glance around the kitchen, she returned to the pantry and leaned over the hatch again.
"Okay, stand clear. I'm dropping it down."
When her husband and brothers stepped back, she released the pry bar and allowed it to drop. It landed on the cool earthen floor with a dull metallic thud an instant before Steve scooped it up and disappeared from her line of vision.
He inserted the flat end of the pry bar under the edge of the plywood and pulled it back. The nails gave way with a piercing squeal of protest.
"See if you can get your fingers under it," Steve said.
Slipping his fingers under the edge of the plywood, Bo helped while Steve pulled back on the pry bar again. The wood panel released completely with a final squeal from the nails. They tossed the panel aside, and Bo aimed the utility light at the recess that had been excavated behind it.
Inside it was a wooden chest.
"Well shiver me timbers," Steve said with his best pirate accent.
"I'll be damned," Bo agreed.
Steve placed his hand on the smooth wood surface. "I wonder how long this has been sitting here, hidden behind that plywood panel."
"A long time, I would think," Bo said. "There isn't that much dust, but it's been pretty well sealed up inside that cubby. Whoever built it wanted to make sure it was safe from the elements."
"Yeah, and everything down here looks exactly the way it did when I put the linoleum over the hatch. All the wood matches, so it isn't something that was added recently. I think it's safe to say this was down here the whole time Kayla and I lived here, and probably long before that."
"What is it?" Kayla called impatiently from above. "What did you find?"
"A wooden box," Steve replied. "Kind of like a pirate's chest."
"Not only that," Roman said. "Look at this." With his index finger, he pointed to the crest that had been branded into the wood. "That's the Alamain family crest."
"Are you kidding me?" Steve asked, almost breathless with the impact of the discovery. "That confirms it then, doesn't it? This is exactly what he's after!"
"Looks like that old legend is true," Bo added. "I wonder what's inside it."
"Let's open it and find out," Steve urged.
As the ranking officer, both Steve and Bo looked to Roman for confirmation, and after a moment, recognizing the fact that whatever it contained was not only someone else's property but evidence in the perpetration of a crime, Roman gave a nod. Reaching inside, he grasped the edge of the crate and slid it toward the edge of the cubby, where Steve and Bo each found a handhold, and together the three of them lifted it out of the cubby.
"It's pretty heavy," Steve commented, surprised by the weight of it. "There is definitely something in there."
A ripple of excitement touched all of them as they lowered the chest to the floor beneath the utility light that Roman had hung from the ceiling hook. At last, they were on the verge of discovering the exact cause of Steve's abduction and the reason for the elaborate scheme that had been concocted. With the chest on the floor, they stood over it for several moments just looking down at it, as if savoring the moment of discovery.
"We have to be careful with whatever we touch," Roman cautioned. "First and foremost, this is evidence, and it must be treated as such."
Bo nodded, and both he and Roman reached into their pockets of their jeans and withdrew a pair of latex gloves. Roman put his on, but Bo glanced at Steve, understanding that he had every right to be involved. "I only have one pair, but we should be able to share it." He passed one glove to Steve, and put the other on himself.
Steve put on the other glove as Roman knelt beside the chest, but when he reached for the latch, he stopped and looked up at Steve, the man who had paid the highest price of all for whatever was concealed inside the box. "Steve, this has affected you in more ways than it has the rest of us. Do you want the honors?"
"Damn straight!" Steve replied. He exchanged places with Roman, then unlatched the lid and folded it back.
All three men stared into the chest for several moments before any of them reacted.
There were several objects nestled closely together inside the chest: A large unidentifiable object that was wrapped protectively in a soft flannel cloth dominated the space. Tucked beside it were several smaller boxes, and standing on its edge against the side of the chest was a book that appeared to be either a notebook or photo album.
Steve reached for the latter with the gloved hand, and allowed it to fall open without touching it with the unprotected hand.
It was neither a notebook nor a photo album. Instead of paper pages or photo leaves, it contained clear plastic sheets, each one with 20 small pockets. And inserted into each of those small pockets, securely encased in protective cardboard holders with a round cellophane window, was an ancient antique coin.
"I think these are authentic," Steve said in an awed voice.
"They look like they're from ancient Rome," Bo added. "Look at the writing on the cardboard holders. It's in Italian."
Carefully, Steve flipped farther through the book. Page after page was filled with the ancient Roman coins. "This is some coin collection! This thing alone is worth a fortune!"
"Look at this," Roman said, holding one of the small boxes that he had opened. Inside it, secure on a bed of felt cloth, was a necklace. The center piece was a large exquisitely cut emerald surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds "I'm no expert on jewelry, but I'd bet my badge that this is authentic as well. It looks very old and very valuable."
"And there are more of them," Bo said, lifting out a box that he opened up to reveal a sparkling, jeweled tiara. Other boxes were under it containing rings, bracelets, and more necklaces.
After closing the boxes and returning them to the chest, Roman carefully unwrapped the flannel shroud from the large object. The vacant eyes of an ancient emperor stared up from the marble bust.
"Wow, would you look at that!" Steve exclaimed.
Kayla was bent over at the waist, gazing down the ladder at the three men who were examining the treasure, waiting impatiently for them to bring it up to the main level. Leaning to one side, she tried to see better, but it was impossible from her position.
"Would you guys tell me what – ah!"
An arm abruptly circled her waist from behind, nearly lifting her off her feet, and clamped her tightly against the torso of her assailant.
Steve turned toward the hatch, alarmed by the sudden change in her voice. "Kayla?"
Kayla struggled against a stronger attacker until she felt the smooth bore of a pistol placed against the side of her head. Instantly, she stopped struggling.
"That's it, Mrs. Johnson," the man said in a clipped British accent. "Just settle down, and perhaps everyone will live through this event."
Steve recognized the voice, and black rage filled him at the sight of the gun that was pressed against Kayla's temple. Without thinking, he lunged for the ladder, grasping the rungs nearly halfway up. Bo and Roman grabbed him from behind and pulled him back down.
"Easy, Steve," Bo cautioned, still gripping Steve by one arm and shoulder while Roman gripped him on the other side. Both noticed that he was trembling with rage.
"The gun means he's holding the cards right now," Roman said quietly in Steve's ear, his voice filled with tension. "We both have a bone to pick with him, but we need to be calm and wait for an opportunity."
Steve understood then that Roman was still filled with bitterness and resentment toward the man who had kidnapped Marlena when he had been seeking the stolen bonds in Stockholm, and that he hated Vaughn almost as much as he did. He nodded in agreement, but his anger did not lessen.
Pointing a condemning finger at the Englishman, he shouted, "If you do anything to harm her, I swear there won't be any place on this planet big enough for you to hide! Wherever you go, rest assured I will track you down."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Vaughn said mockingly. "Mighty bold talk for someone in your current position, wouldn't you say? In case you have not noticed, I am the one holding the gun. You really should learn to curb that temper, Steve. It might just get you into trouble one day!"
As he spoke, Vaughn was clearly unaware that there was anyone else in the house, or else he would not have stood in the pantry door with his back to the kitchen. Unseen by him, Stephanie, who had approached the kitchen upon hearing a voice she did not recognize, stood just beyond the kitchen door, listened to Vaughn's taunting. It only took a few seconds to deduce that her father, along with Bo and Roman, were down in the larder. Because Vaughn filled the doorway, she could only see a small part of her mother, but it was obvious that his left arm was wrapped around her waist in a restraining grip. And, to her horror, there was no mistaking the pistol that was pressed to her temple.
Vaughn's eyes shifted greedily to the chest, sitting tantalizingly near at Bo's feet, and observed the Alamain family crest that was plainly visible in the glow of the shop light. "I had a feeling if I waited long enough, you would eventually lead me to the treasure. It wasn't easy, though. You certainly made it more difficult with that cop following you all over town. But I knew I could eventually get around that little obstacle."
Stephanie shrank back around the door jamb, where she was less likely to be spotted, and listened, fearfully. This was the most frightening thing that had ever happened to her, and she had no idea what she should do to resolve it. There was no doubt in her mind that Vaughn would take her mother with him to discourage others from following, and she also knew that hostages were frequently not released alive.
"I am at a bit of a disadvantage here," Vaughn said. "I intend to take that chest off your hands, but you clearly outnumber me, so we need to come up with a suitable method of bringing the box up to this level." His eyes dropped to the extension cord. "Lacking a suitable length of rope, I'm certain this cord will do the trick. Of course, you will be left in the dark when I lock you in, but I'm positive you will survive it. Mrs. Johnson, of course, will be coming with me, since she will be my ticket out of here. Now, if you please, tie that cord around the box."
Stephanie knew she needed help. With Vaughn's plans laid out before her, there was nothing she could do by herself to apprehend the criminal.
Running quietly on the balls of her sneakered feet, she rushed back down the corridor toward the front door, fishing her cell phone from her shoulder bag at the same time. With nervously trembling fingers, she started to speed dial 9-1-1, then stopped. She would not know the person who responded and would waste valuable time explaining the situation. So instead, she scrolled down her list of contacts, dismissing the friends who were arranged alphabetically, and finally stopped on the one labeled "Aunt Hope". She pressed the speed dial, and listened to the musical tones as the phone called the number.
Hope answered on the second ring after checking the caller I.D. "Hi, Stephanie. What's up?"
"Aunt Hope?" Stephanie whispered urgently. "We're still at the house, and there's a man here. I think he's that Vaughn guy. He has a British accent. Dad and Uncle Bo and Uncle Roman are down in the larder, but this guy has a gun to Mom's head!" Her voice broke, vividly expressing her fear for Kayla's safety. "They found something down there, and he wants it." She was in tears now. "I don't know what to do!"
Hope was silent for a few seconds, processing the information that her niece had just provided. Bo had told her that he and Roman were going to help get into the larder, and that they all believed it might produce the item that Vaughn and Alamain were after. Clearly they had been correct in their assumption.
"Listen to me, Steph. I'm in the car and I'm on my way right now. You're doing great, but I need you to stay calm and answer a few questions, okay? Are you in a safe place?"
"I'm in the foyer by the front door."
"Look out the window and see if the police officer is still there."
"Okay, I'm looking right now," Stephanie said as she leaned toward the window and peered between the boards that were nailed to the outside. Through the narrow slit, she could see the police vehicle still parked in the driveway behind her mother's rental car. "The police car is still there," she announced.
"Do you see the officer in the front seat?" Hope asked.
Stephanie shifted positions slightly then moved to another window, trying to gain a better view, but no matter from which location she looked, she could see no one seated in the vehicle. A chill of foreboding shivered down her spine. "Oh, God!" she whimpered. "He's not there! Is he dead?"
"Shh," Hope cautioned. "Keep your voice low. We don't want to announce your presence to Vaughn."
"What about the cop -"
"I don't know, Steph. Right now, I'm more worried about you. I'm only a couple of miles away now. Don't go outside, okay? Just in case he found an accomplice. Is there a safe place you can go, like a closet or a bathroom?"
"But Mom and Dad –"
"You won't do your mom and dad any good if you get caught too. I'll be there in a few minutes, and I want you in a safe place, okay?"
"There's a closet underneath the steps."
"Good. Get in there, and wait for me. I'm almost there."
Stephanie crept back to the stairs, and stepped over the planks that had been ripped off during the Alamain's haphazard search years earlier. There were spider webs and a lot of dust, but she closed her eyes and tried to ignore it as she crouched down in the dark corner to wait.