The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

He pointed it out to Ned, who swallowed and squeezed Cole’s hand with a question in his eyes, but when Cole was about to check Craig’s position, something moved upstairs. Whether it was a rat, birds, or a ghost, it set the marshal in motion.

“Ah-ha!” Craig roared and ran toward them, his boots banging on the rotting floor until Cole’s hand sweated around the metal grip in his hand. But as he lowered the gun, ready to pull the trigger once the lawman stepped into the room, the heavy footsteps slowed, echoing with a creak. The damn fool was climbing the rotting stairs!

Each move could have sent the marshal into a world of pain and broken bone, but he trudged on, fueled by the need to capture his father’s murderer. Cole entwined his fingers with Ned’s and held them tightly, but the commotion he anticipated never came, and when the floor above groaned under the man’s weight, Cole couldn’t believe their luck.

He counted each of Craig’s steps, half-expecting to see the ceiling cave in over the deserted table, but when it didn’t happen, Cole tugged on Ned and pointed to the secret passage. The firm chest filled with air, but Ned said nothing and glanced at Cole with a question in his eyes.

Should we go yet?

He depended on Cole to make this decision for them, and Cole would rather die than betray his trust.

If they lived beyond this day, he’d treasure it and never give Ned reason to question his intentions again.

Cole didn’t want to alert the marshal to their presence downstairs, because the bastard was determined enough to risk breaking all his limbs in a bid to catch them, but when Craig’s steps became so distant Cole could barely hear them, he tiptoed around the rubble, carefully choosing which boards to step on to make as little noise as possible. The damp air burned his lungs as if it were on fire, but his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Meeting Ned’s gaze, he lifted a flimsy side table and placed it away from the secret passage.

Dozens of scenarios rushed through his mind as he considered what might happen next, but the door opened as soon as he pressed the handle, and his heart skipped a beat when stone steps beyond it dove straight into the abyss.

Going into the basement might seal their fate, but with police surrounding the villa, they were left with little choice anyway, so he stepped forward just as Ned shut the door behind them.

The narrow staircase was cold like winter in the mountains and quiet as a grave, but Cole chose to ignore his gut feeling and trust that Jan did have reasons to make them wait down there. He placed both hands on the damp walls in case one of the steps were unstable and made himself move ever lower, toward a faint glow reaching the very bottom of the stairs.

They were halfway down when Ned stopped moving, and his breathing reached Cole’s ears in sharp gasps. "This doesn't feel right. Didn’t they say the ghosts of the girls were bound to the basement?" he whispered with such fright Cole wanted to shake him. This wasn’t the time for doubt. Craig was looking for them upstairs, and might even notice that the side table had been moved. If he opened the door behind them now, he could shoot Ned dead without risking much himself, and there wouldn’t have been much Cole could do to prevent it.

“Ned, I already told you. Ghosts don’t exist. You hallucinated them when you were drowned in liquor,” Cole whispered impatiently, fighting the urge to slap Ned awake.

“But—”

“No buts, Ned. Not now.” Cole grabbed his hand to make his point clear, and was relieved when Ned squeezed it instead of backing away.

“You really don’t smell the kerosene?”

“No, you’re only imagining it because I told you that people smelled it down here,” Cole said, running out of patience. Going downstairs might be a bad judgment call. They might end up cornered and shot, but what if, somehow, this was their sole chance to survive, and they missed it because of irrational fear?

Ned’s hands shook when he grabbed Cole’s shoulders. “The murderer… she hid the girls’ burnt bodies in this basement.”

Cold trickled down Cole’s spine, but his face was granite and wouldn’t twitch unless he willed it to. “Stop going back to what you’ve read on that dumb sheet of paper!”

Something hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs, but a squeak that followed suggested it was only a rat. Ned clenched his fingers on Cole’s hand so hard it hurt, but Cole wouldn’t deny him that sense of safety.

He shook his head to relieve the unease already clinging to him and pulled on Ned’s hand, luring him all the way down toward the faint light coming from a tiny window right under the vaulted ceiling across from the staircase.