Page 66 of From the Darkness

“Does this lead to the closet in my old bedroom?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“So that’s how you’ve been getting into my room so easily!”

He didn’t comment, only led her along the stone passageway to the place where the tunnel made an abrupt turn. She realized she’d always kept to the right-hand wall. The left would have been a better choice, she noted as he opened a panel, then ushered her into still another passageway.

“Who needed all these tunnels?” she asked.

“Smugglers.”

“Oh!”

“My grandfather had a nice illegal import business.”

She wanted to ask more questions, but she was using all her energy keeping up with him. Ahead of her she could hear waves pounding against the shore. And when they came to stone steps, the surface was damp.

He took her arm, holding her tightly as they climbed to an opening just under the level of the cliff.

Below was a sheer drop to roiling water crashing against jagged rocks. One false step, and you’d be dashed to death by the waves pounding the rugged shoreline.

She shrank back.

“It’s okay. I won’t let you fall,” he said, and she remembered that other time when he’d caught her in midair.

She reached for his hand, her trust in him absolute as he led her up a rocky path to an indentation in the cliff wall that was much too high for her to scale on her own.

“Let me go first. Then I’ll help you.”

Detaching his hand from hers, he pulled himself up. Then he reached down for her.

She grasped onto his solid flesh, knowing he was doing most of the work. Still, it was difficult to make those last few yards.

When they reached the top of the cliff, she stood in the shadow of a large huckleberry bush, breathing hard and looking back the way they’d come, thinking she never would have made it by herself.

Troy kept his arm around her, staring out at the churning water. “I always loved this place,” he said. “I love the sound of the waves, and the power of nature.”

“Yes. It’s beautiful.”

“If Grace could have moved the house a couple of miles inland, she would have done it.”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, his expression regretful. “Come on. We’d better—”

He stopped abruptly, then thrust her roughly down behind the huckleberry bush, hunkering down beside her, his hand clamping over her mouth as she tried to ask what he was doing.

Moments later, she heard footsteps coming along the path. Apparently, someone else was out and about this morning.

She heard voices—no just one voice. And as the person drew closer, she realized it was Graves.

Apparently, he was talking to himself. Muttering something, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Still, the tone of his voice made goose bumps rise on her arms.

She edged closer to Troy, comforted by the solid feeling of his body, the warmth of his skin.

Graves passed by the bush where they were hiding.

For long moments, neither one of them moved. Finally, Bree risked a peek around the foliage and saw the man’s retreating figure. Still, if he turned around, he would see them. She didn’t want to confront him. And she was pretty sure Troy didn’t want to give his presence away; so she waited until the handyman had passed into the garden and disappeared from view.

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