His words failed to ease the guilty ache in her heart. She could have tried harder. Should have tried harder.
"How did she die?” she asked, edging towards the sound of his voice. His reply was terse. “Blood loss."
The floorboards moved a second time. Frowning, she stopped. Apprehension crawled up her spine, but she thrust it away. Michael had walked across this same floor only a few moments ago. If they had held his weight, surely they'd hold hers.
"He's mutilated her?” she said, praying it wasn't so.
"No."
She took another step. “Then how did she die?"
The floor buckled. Wood groaned, as if ready to collapse. Imagination, she told herself fiercely, and took another step.
The floor bowed again, this time accompanied by an odd cracking sound. Sweat broke out across her brow. She cleared her throat. “Michael, I think something's wrong here."
"What?” His voice was sharp, alert.
"The floor.” She frowned and took another small step. The boards seemed to bow even further.
"It's an old building,” he reminded her gently. “Who knows what condition the supporting pylons are in." A plausible enough explanation, but not the answer here. She had the horrible feeling the whole lot was about to disappear beneath her. “It's more than that."
"Don't move, then. I'm coming back."
She swung the flashlight round in a tight circle. There was nothing to see but years of dust, stirred to sluggish life in the wake of Michael's passing. She bit her lip and took one more step. It was one step too many.
Without warning, everything gave way, and she dropped like a stone into darkness.
Chapter Five