Page 73 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

After I turn off the light, I blink a few times. A faint glow burns from the adjacent room. Given my profession and the training I just taught on fire safety, I investigate. Chances are Honey plugged in a nightlight, but with electrical wiring in an old house like this, you can never be too careful.

Rubbing my eyes, I’m not sure what I’m seeing. If I didn’t know better, I’d argue that the wall is glowing. If this place is radioactive, I’ll wake the baby and get us out of here eventhough interrupting an infant’s sleep is a big no-no according to “Babyhood.”

I crouch, running my hand along the crack between the plaster and the baseboard. It’s almost as if there’s a light on inside the wall. From afar, I supervised the alarm system install and there haven’t been any workers in the house since. Plus, I rescheduled the more intensive remodel for the new year so I could oversee it and not bother Honey.

But this is odd.

Trying to puzzle it out, I start to wonder if I’m seeing things. Sixteen hours of straight driving could be messing with my head.

Then I hear a faint noise, almost like a sneeze.

The roar of the road is in my ears, but then I hear it again.

Listening, I’m on alert. I bang on the wall. If it’s a mouse, I’ll be calling an exterminator first thing in the morning.

“Get out of here,” I bark, banging my fist on the wall.

A scuffling sound follows and the old house creaks. Honey wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’d been hearing things.

Giving my face a rub, I’m about to return to the couch—which has never looked so comfortable when I go still.

“Maddock?” a small, muted voice says.

I whip around, expecting Honey’s figure to fill the doorway, but it’s dark.

Concern grows over just how tired I am.

“It’s me,” she says.

My breath catches because now I have one of two problems on my hands. It’s either my mental well-being or this house is haunted. Either way, something is wrong.

“I’m here,” the voice says.

That’s definitely Honey and her voice is muted, not airy like how ghosts are portrayed in the movies.

“What is going on?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.

“It’s me. I need your help.”

She’s not the only one.

I flip on another light. “Where are you?”

She clears her throat. “Um, I’m in the wall.”

I squint as if I have X-ray vision. “You’re where?”

“In the wall.” A soft rapping comes from near the glowing light.

“What? How?” I start.

“I’ll explain later, but do you remember the passageway we went through? I need you to find a rope or a ladder or something, go through there, and then you’ll see a ladder fixed to the inner ceiling. Climb up and a passageway leads to where I am.”

Suddenly wide awake, I have about a dozen questions, but safety first. Well, except the manner in which I’m about to do this contradicts the importance of safety and teamwork that I just taught the guys. If I somehow get trapped, it’s game over. But I have my phone, it’s charged, and worst-case scenario, I’ll call Jesse and JQ to bring a battering ram and break us out.

Ten minutes later, a very dusty Honey is crawling into my arms. Just to annoy her, I fling her over my shoulder, fireman carry style. Only, this time, she doesn’t protest.

When I set her down, her eyes are wide and filled with relief. She grips my jaw in her hands, gaze searching my face. “What are you doing here?”

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