Page 75 of Her Dying Secret

“I need help,” Turner said. “It’s my knee. I can’t see him. He’s somewhere down here.”

Keeping his eyes forward and pistol ready, Noah used one hand to pull his phone out of his back pocket. He shook it and Josie took it from him, quickly turning on the flashlight app and handing it to him so that he could light the way down. She did the same with her own phone, ignoring the vibration of terror in her hands as they descended deeper into inky darkness. To their right was a stone wall and to the left was a railing.

Turner found the flashlight app on his own phone and flicked it on, aiming the light to his left. Josie’s eyes started to adjust to their lights, and every last bit of illumination felt like the air she needed to breathe as she and Noah reached the bottom. The unmistakable odor of human waste filled her nostrils. Under any other circumstances she might revel in the idea that perhaps Turner had lost control of his bodily functions, but every single cell in her body was screaming that something terrifying had happened in the bowels of this building.

Did the basement extend beneath the entire building?

The foul smell grew stronger, coating Josie’s tongue and burning her eyes. She heard rustling. Turner’s torch bobbed wildly. Her heart stopped for two beats before thundering back to life at a speed that was surely not tenable. She leaned to the side just far enough to see around Noah. Turner was on one knee. Just like the day at the stationhouse after he’d searched for his basketball under Mett’s desk. His desk. Except now his face and shirt were covered in blood.

Noah said, “Can you get up?”

“I can’t. I need someone to hold onto. Keep your eyes over there, LT.” He nodded in the direction of his flashlight beam. There was only a dirt floor and then darkness. Seth Lee lurked somewhere beyond the reach of their lights, unless there was an alternate exit. “Quinn, you help me up.”

Noah kept his gun trained on the dark area of the cellar, panning with his flashlight. One of Turner’s large hands gripped Josie’s hip. His weight tugged her downward, but she maintained her balance. It took her a second to realize that he’d used her belt to pull himself to standing. “Get ready,” he said softly. “Lights in three, two, one.”

Josie was vaguely aware of the sound of a cord being pulled and then a dull yellow glow filled the space. It took seconds for her mind to work out that they were standing in a small room that likely joined the rest of the basement via a door near the back of the staircase. A door that was padlocked shut. Her eyes followed the path of Noah’s pistol, aimed at Seth Lee in the farthest corner. He was on his knees, his back turned toward them.

What was he doing?

Noah advanced on him. “Seth Lee. Stand up, put your hands where I can see them, and turn around.”

Seth stood, extending his hands up and over his shoulders so they could see that they were empty.

Josie’s eyes raked over the rest of the tableau in less than a second. A five-gallon bucket, its sides streaked with something dark. A pile of something congealed on the floor a few feet away from it. Unidentifiable stains everywhere else. Vomit threatened to rise to the back of Josie’s throat, but she swallowed it down. Clenching her jaw, she found the drawer in her mental vault filled with things that tested her faith in humanity and shoved the sights and scents of this dungeon deep inside, narrowing her focus to Seth.

“That’s good,” Noah told him. “Turn around slowly.”

Seth did as he was instructed. As Josie and Noah drew closer, she saw that his eyes were filled with tears. Dirt covered his palms. Had he been burying something or unearthing something?

Noah said, “Turn around, nice and slow, and lace your fingers behind your head.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was surprisingly husky. “I never wanted her to get hurt. I didn’t want this for her.”

Noah repeated the instructions and this time Seth complied. She and Noah reached him at the same time, drawing his arms down behind his back and securing his wrists with zip ties. Josie recited his Miranda rights, but even after he verbally indicated that he understood them, he continued to talk, his voice strained and filled with what sounded like remorse. “I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want this to happen. I never wanted her to suffer. I didn’t know when she was here…I didn’t know.”

He began to sob as Turner limped over and helped Noah guide him back up the steps. Josie holstered her pistol and walked along the edge of the room until she could see what had concerned Seth so much on the other side of the bucket. Something had been gouged into the floor and by the looks of it, Seth had been trying to erase it.

She took out her phone again and quickly found the flashlight app, aiming the beam at the floor. Josie felt a piece of her heart crack at exactly the same time that a swell of admiration filled her chest. Admiration and respect for the woman who had made sure to leave her mark on this black hellhole so indelibly that it could not be erased.

April Carlson had carved her name into the floor.

From the top of the steps, Seth howled, “I’m sorry!”

FIFTY-FIVE

I wait until we’re all alone again and then I sneak back to her, mostly because I’m afraid maybe he did kill her. But she’s still alive and I rub her back and stroke her hair like she always did to me.

“Rosie,” she says. “You can’t be here.”

“No one else is here,” I say. “It’s okay. Are you hungry? I can find something. Everything here tastes bad, but I don’t want you to look the same as Aunt April when Dad brought her here.”

“Oh God.” Tears spill from her eyes, and I wonder if I did something wrong. Then she says, “I’m so sorry you had to see her like that, honey. I didn’t know. As soon as I found out, I told your father he needed to bring her to me, and he did, but then?—”

I put my hand on top of her head and make a “shhh” noise like she used to do to me when I cried.

“Everything went wrong,” she says, and she sounds like a squeaky toy.

I do the “shhh” thing again until she seems calmer.

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