Barry demanded and rushed toward the stairs, flashlight bobbing as he started down. “Keep calling it until we find out where the sound is coming from.”
Darla hit redial once more and then hurried after him, taking the stairs as swiftly as she dared and pausing midway down to dial yet again. The familiar tune was far louder now, and Barry, who had already reached the ground floor, was looking about wildly. Darla joined him a moment later and redialed Curt’s number yet again. The rhythm started up once more, and Barry pointed his flashlight at a closed door she hadn’t noticed earlier.
“The basement,” he declared. “He must be down there. But why isn’t he answering?”
Maybe because he can’t, Darla thought as her stomach did a small flip-flop. From the grim expression on Barry’s face as made his way in that direction, he obviously was thinking the same thing as she.
He yanked open the door, revealing a large area of gloom lit only by what daylight was let in by the narrow exterior windows. A workmanlike set of open wooden stairs with railings on either side led down into the darkness, where she could make out the vague shapes of stacked boxes. Shining his flashlight into the shadows, Barry headed down a couple of steps and called, “Curt? Buddy? You down there?”
When he got no reply, he turned back to Darla. “Call him one more time, would you?”
She nodded wordlessly and edged her way to the door while pressing the redial. This time, it sounded like a concert was happening almost at their feet. Barry swung his light down the stairs, searching . . . and then burst into laughter as his beam caught and held on a slim metallic shape lying several steps down from them. Glancing back up at Darla, Barry gave his head a rueful shake.
“The idiot, he must have come down here for some reason and then dropped his phone,” he declared, his expression relieved. He turned again and started down the steps, adding over his shoulder, “He’s probably wandering all over the neighborhood right now trying to figure out where he lost it.”
“Hey, it happens to the best of us,” Darla observed a bit breathlessly as she heaved her own sigh of relief. She’d truly feared something bad had happened to Curt. Now that she knew it was nothing worse than a dropped phone, she and Barry could have their lunch as planned. As for Curt, he likely could survive awhile without his smartphone.
While Barry bent to retrieve the errant device, Darla squinted into the dimness to look around the basement. The requisite old-fashioned coal boiler was to one side, along with storage boxes and a couple of old chairs. The floor appeared to be its original brick, although sections of plywood had been laid near the stairs to give a more stable storage surface. She hadn’t noticed any unusual exterior access other than the windows. Her practical side kicked in. If Barry could convert the space into a garden apartment like Jake’s, that would add even greater value—
She paused in midthought as the wavering flashlight beam momentarily revealed a flash of blue as Barry pocketed the phone and started back up the steps toward Darla. A chill swept her, and she gripped the doorjamb.
“Wait,” she choked out. “Shine your light all the way down the steps, and to the right. I thought I saw . . .”
She trailed off, and Barry stared at her in seeming confusion for a moment. Gathering her wits, she leaned past the doorway and pointed downward into the shadows. “It’s probably nothing, just a blue rag, but you’d better take a look.”
Obediently he swung around and began moving the flashlight beam back and forth in wide arcs toward the area she’d indicated. “Tell me when you—”
“There!”
Shaking now, so that she didn’t dare let go of the doorjamb, Darla stared down at the spot where Barry’s flashlight beam had paused. It could be a blue tarp, she tried to tell herself. But as Barry slowly moved down the stairs, the pool of light around the fabric widened. No, not a tarp. It was a blue Windbreaker . . . the same jacket that Curt had been wearing last time he had stopped by the bookstore.
And as the flashlight beam zeroed in on it even more closely, she now could see what appeared to be a human hand protruding from the jacket’s sleeve.
SEVEN
“CURT!” BARRY YELLED AND WENT STUMBLING DOWN THE steps toward