Page 25 of From the Darkness

Starting cautiously, she said, “I was glad to see you have such a good relationship with Dinah.”

“She’s a sweet little mite.”

“She seems so mature for her age.”

Mrs. Martindale rinsed out a large pot and set it in the dish drainer. “I think she grew up fast when her mother died.”

“So—what about her father.”

“What about him?”

“Does she get much support from him?”

“He’s not in shape to give anyone emotional support at the moment, poor man.”

“Yes. Mrs. Sterling said he had a nervous breakdown.”

The housekeeper sighed. “He took it hard when his wife died. I think he never got over that. But I don’t really feel comfortable talking about my employer.”

“Yes, I understand. I really came here to ask if you know where I can find a flashlight.”

The housekeeper’s gaze turned appraising. “Why do you need one?”

“The light’s burned out in my closet,” Bree lied again. “And I can’t see to put in a new one.

“Then take a bulb with you, too.”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Just bring me back the flashlight. I like to know where it is, in case we have a power failure.”

“Do you have them frequently?” Bree asked.

“Now and again,” the housekeeper answered, opening one of the cabinets and producing the requested item.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll give the flashlight back to you at dinner. In the schoolroom—right?”

“At six thirty.”

Bree thanked Mrs. Martindale again, thinking that the woman was either a loyal employee or she had her own reasons for keeping silent about Troy.

When she returned to her room, the first thing she did after stepping inside was to cross to the closet and make sure it was empty. Then she checked the bathroom and looked under the bed. When she was sure she was alone, she reentered the closet, unscrewed the bulb, cracked it with the heel of her shoe, and dumped it in the trash. After replacing it with the new one, she found the panel that led to the passageway and worked the mechanism. Moments later she was staring down the dark tunnel that led away from her room.

This time she retraced her steps carefully, shining the light on the floor, the walls and even the ceiling. When she judged she was getting close to the place where Troy had saved her from pitching over the edge of the precipice, she kept the light focused downward so that she’d be sure to see the chasm in time.

Turning the corner, she found it easily, a shudder wracking her as she felt the cold drifting up from the pit. Cautiously she moved toward the edge, inspecting the floor.

Although the gun could have gone over the edge, she hadn’t heard it fall down there. It was more likely up here. But though she searched for several minutes, she found no sign of the weapon.

So—was it in the pit after all? Or had somebody come through here and scooped it up? Who? The same person who had searched her room? And how had they gotten in here? Through the bedroom, or through another entrance?

She shined her light along the ledge she’d walked the night before. Now that she could see it better, it looked awfully narrow. The thought of going back there held little appeal. But while she had the light, maybe she could figure out where Troy had disappeared. She inched along the walkway again, breathing a sigh when she made it to the other side.

The rock fall was just as it had been. With the light, and her free hand, she carefully inspected every inch of the tunnel. But she could find nothing that looked like a hidden door.

With a sigh, she recrossed the narrow ledge. When she was on firm ground, she turned and stared back at the ledge.

“Dammit, Troy, tell me what’s going on!” she shouted into the darkness. “Tell me how you got in and out of here last night. Tell me what you want from me.”

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