“Baby,” Michael gasped. “Why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone?”
She hugged him back, looking confused. “I…It’s in my handbag, I think,” she stammered. “I was upstairs packing. What’s wrong?”
But he just shook his head. It was no time to explain.
“Sir,” another voice said, and I looked back to see Patterson, one of the building’s managers step into the penthouse. “Is something wrong? Jackson downstairs said there might be a problem.”
“I’m not sure,” Michael answered. “Have you seen anyone suspicious coming and going from the building?”
“No, sir.” He approached, looking concerned. “I would’ve taken measures if I had, I assure you.”
“Yes, I know.”
But I piped up, addressing Michael. “When did the Torrance’s sell off this place?”
He took Rika’s hand and grabbed her bag, walking down the stairs. “Nineteen eighty-eight, Robson said.”
I nodded. “So, computerized controllers on elevators didn’t start until later last century,” I thought out loud. “Knowing he was selling off the building, Gabriel wouldn’t have upgraded the system to include codes for the hidden floor. Which means they had a much simpler way to access the twelfth floor than the newer hotel across the river.”
No key pad. Definitely no fingerprint recognition or keycards.
They had to have a separate elevator, but…
Delcour’s elevators were remodeled. They’d been pulled out, the shafts renovated, the hidden floor would’ve been found. Unless…
“Are there any other elevators?” I asked Patterson. “Anything? Not in common use. Even out of service? Or another stairwell?”
He shook his head, proving it a dead end, but then he stopped, appearing to think of something.
“Well, there’s a stairwell on the first floor leading up, but it’s been walled in. It doesn’t go anywhere anymore.”
My shoulders fell.
“And there’s a service elevator in the basement,” he added.
I shot my head up.
“But it’s boarded up,” he told us. “I don’t think it’s been used in…thirty years?”
Well, that’d be about right.
I took a step toward him. “Show us.”
He led the way into the e
levator again, descending past the lobby, past the parking garage, underneath the street, and down one more level. As far as it would go.
Michael kept hold of Rika but shot me a weary glance. I don’t think he’d ever been down here, and the idea that Damon was in the building, especially on nights when Michael had games or was out of town, was almost crippling.
Stepping into the basement, two levels below ground, Patterson led us down a hallway and around a corner. Water raced through the pipes above us, and I could hear the soft rumble of the furnace coming from somewhere.
We headed down a hallway and entered a small open area, and there it was. The old service elevator.
Patterson stopped suddenly, though, looking confused. “The boards have been pulled out,” he said.
I followed his gaze, seeing all the two-by-fours with rusted nails jutting out of them scattered out to the side. How long had it been since he’d been down here?
The old elevator didn’t look very wide, and it was crusted with grime and cobwebs, but there was an old-fashioned dial above the doors. No numbers, but a light glowed behind the stained glass, showing that it was receiving power.