Authors: Renee Simons
The window framed a charcoal gray sky. "More rain," she said as a distraction from his presence.
"This protective custody deal is the pits," Ethan said. "More like house arrest, if you ask me. D'you want to get out of here?"
"Have you figured out a way to sneak past our watchdogs?"
"C'mon. Let's go into the library."
"Why?"
"You’ll see."
Inside the room, he went to the back wall and felt along the side of a bookcase. He pressed something beneath one of the shelves and stepped aside when seconds later, the unit rotated slowly away from the wall.
"Straight out of a Gothic romance," she said.
"More like the Underground Railroad."
"How do you know that?"
"I found it while checking the construction of the bookcase. Turns out this was a safe house for fugitive slaves during the abolition period."
He opened the door. It swung back easily on its hinges.
Jordan
moved to his side and peered into the black emptiness. A musty odor drifted out toward them, reinforcing her earlier impression of antique eerieness.
Ethan glanced at her. "You game?"
"Why not? My dull and quiet life could use a little more excitement."
Ethan grinned at her dubious tone. "C'mon, then." He ushered her onto the landing ahead of him. "Hold up a minute." He reached into the room to bring the wall of books to its original position and close the secret door behind him. "You're not claustrophobic are you?"
"It's a little late to ask, don't you think?"
"Are you?"
She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "Let's go."
Ethan led the way down the steps. At the bottom they entered the tunnel. Walking slowly, they moved deeper into the absolute darkness, without any reference points except each other. Her reawakened fear of dark, closed-in places threatened to overwhelm her. She shuddered and froze.
"What's wrong?" Ethan asked.
She didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth. "Cobwebs. And crawly things I'd rather see than touch."
"Here," he said as he took her hand. "Hold on to me."
She welcomed the strong yet gentle touch of his fingers entwined with hers and matched his steady pace. Their footsteps echoed in the space around them, filling the emptiness where they'd been, cutting through the dark silence ahead.
The tunnel seemed arrow-straight except for a stretch where the track sloped downward. Here they sloshed through water that had seeped in from some hidden fault. Their shoes sank into a layer of mud. As the tunnel slanted upward, the ground beneath them became dry and firm again and remained that way for the rest of the walk.
"We're almost there," Ethan said.
"How can you tell?"
He passed her hand along the wall until her finger tips found a groove running from roof to floor of the rough-hewn tunnel. "I counted those, same way the fugitives did all those years ago."
"How often have you been through here?"
"Three or four times." At the end of the passageway, he opened, then closed the door behind them as they stepped into a small vestibule. He passed his hand over the brick wall facing them. Another door opened, letting in rain-dampened air and light filtered through a screen of ivy. As they stepped outside, the door swung closed. From the street, its existence became undetectable beneath the ivy’s thick cover and the patterns made by the fading red brick of a garden wall.
"We’re almost a mile from the house," Ethan said.
A gentle drizzle misted
Jordan
’s skin, cleansing and refreshing. The moist air cleared away the musty odor of the tunnel. Ethan watched her.
"What?"
"That was hard on you, wasn't it?"
"I just wish it didn't show."
"Nobody would know."
"You did."
"I'm starting to recognize your chin up, 'I've got to tough this out' stance."
She laughed.
"Let's go somewhere and talk," he urged.
Neither of them minded the rain while they searched for a coffee shop Ethan thought he remembered. Because of the weather, the usual crowds had deserted
Charles Street
. They felt safe enough to enjoy their freedom.
By the time they found the little hole in the wall nestled at the end of an alley, their clothes were thoroughly soaked. Laughing, they ran under the awning, eager to shake off some of the wetness, which turned out to be impossible, leading to more laughter.
Careless of whether she should take the liberty,
Jordan
reached up and combed her fingers through Ethan's rain-darkened hair. His gaze softened as his hand came around her waist and gently pulled her close. She closed her eyes to focus on his lips grazing her wet, spiky lashes and trailing down her cheek to nestle just beneath her ear where she could feel his warm breath. She sighed.
"What was that for?" he asked.
"I’ve never much liked walking in the rain. Until now."
He lifted her chin and looked into the eyes that now watched him. "Depends who you're walking with."
"Apparently."
His gaze traveled to her mouth. His lips followed, gently caressing hers, tasting, warming, then releasing them just as she decided her legs would give way if the kiss went on much longer.
He withdrew, as slowly as he'd approached. "C'mon, let's get out of the wet."
Inside they slid into a booth at the back of the brightly-lit restaurant. They ordered bowls of creamy New England clam chowder and giant mugs of hot chocolate. When they'd finished, the waitress took away the crockery.
"Stay awhile,” she said. "You look like you got a lot to say. Might as well do it where it's warm and dry."
"Have you noticed we do most of our talking over food?"
Jordan
asked.
"There’s something about sitting across a table from each other...helps the talk flow."
"The right amount of distance between us?” she asked.
“Or just close enough?”
She smiled. "So what will it be this time?"
"Guess you could say trust is on the other foot. Do you trust me enough?"
"For what?"
"To tell me what happened to make you afraid of closed in places."
"You sure get to the point in a hurry."
"Learned the trick from you." He touched her hand briefly then leaned against the back of the booth.
"They're scary. That's easy enough to understand."
He shook his head. "Won't do, love. You were terrified and that's not an emotion I associate with you."
"Guess I'm just a wimp."
"Rot. A wimp would give in to her fears, not fight them as you do."
She thought about telling him, some, not everything. "I can't."
"Because I'd be too busy judging you to understand?" His perceptiveness surprised her, and she guessed that showed also. He nodded.
"I've got some growing up to do and maybe then you'll feel differently." This time, he took her hand and held it. "I'd like the chance to be as good a friend as you've been."
"So you believe I'm a friend. When did that happen?"
"Always known it. Just forgot for a while."
After they paid the check they waved good-bye to the waitress and stepped out into the street. The rain had stopped, allowing them to walk home under a clear sky.
Chapter 8
The doors to the escape tunnel opened only from within, leaving Jordan and Ethan no way to retrace their steps. They would return to the house by the front door or not at all. At six o'clock they came walking boldly up the street. At the same moment, an unmarked police car turned the corner. The two detectives in the front seat seemed very annoyed.
Inside the house, Captain Mahan was less than amused by their escapade. "Childish, that's what the two of you are. How'd you do it? How'd you get past our men?"
"Sorry. I'm not at liberty to say."
"Damn it,
Caldwell
, this is no joke!"
"I know," Ethan said. "Would it help if I say none of your blokes was derelict?"
Exasperated, Mahan turned to
Jordan
. "And I suppose you won't tell me either?"
"Sorry, but I was sworn to secrecy."
Mahan was seething. "We're conducting a serious investigation here. We have a right to expect some cooperation from you."
“We’re getting pretty tired of arbitrary rules and regulations made without any consideration of the folks expected to follow.” Ethan shrugged. “Include us in the process if you want our cooperation.”
Mahan turned and went into the library. "What is he doing?"
Jordan
whispered.
"Calling off the units that have been beating the bush for us." He winked. "That'll teach 'em, eh?"
"You do know that what we did was really dumb, don't you?"
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Maybe, but I refuse to be repentant." He started up the stairs. "See you at dinner."
* * *
The days in confinement wore all of them down. One sunny afternoon,
Jordan
found Mrs. Willis in the kitchen, crying quietly into a dish towel. Soggy with tears, the woman told her that Lieutenant Torres had kept her from visiting her husband in the hospital.
"I talk to him on the phone," she explained and took the hanky from her, "but it isn't enough." She dabbed at her swollen eyes. "I need to see for myself, and they won't let me go."
"Would you like me to speak to the lieutenant?"
The woman looked at her with an expression suddenly bright with hope. "Could you, dear? Maybe they'll listen to you. You have such a way about you."
Jordan
smiled. "And what way is that?"
Mrs. Willis shrugged. "I don't know exactly, just something that makes folks want to please you."
"Well then, let's see if we can get this 'something' to work on the lieutenant." She squeezed the housekeeper's hand. "Be right back."
A few minutes later, she returned with permission for Mrs. Willis to see her beloved George. Pleased for her,
Jordan
felt only annoyance over her failure to arrange some release time for herself. She found the restrictions particularly galling because Ethan had wangled a place on the surveillance team staking out Conlon's office building.
From the dining room window she watched Lieutenant Torres guide Mrs. Willis into the car and slide in beside her. The car drove off and turned a corner, leaving her fervently regretting her promise to stay put.
Man the phones, he'd said. Ridiculous. With people in and out all day long turning the place into Grand Central Station, calls had become unnecessary. She couldn't remember the last time the phone rang. The officer monitoring calls down in the basement must be as thoroughly bored as she.
Just then, the gentle purr of the portable extension made a liar of her. She dashed to the sideboard, waiting for the fourth ring before picking up the receiver.
"So that's how you planned to get your information. You're right in there with them," a familiar voice said.
"Excuse me? Do I know you?"