and vulnerable. If she walked out into the house, Vivien would be able to see well back into the wings and even backstage.
Today, open and unshrouded, it was like someone’s private closet had been thrown wide for all to see.
What sorts of secrets lay within?
She smiled wryly at her fanciful, eerie thought. Secrets, schmecrets—she was going home for a good, long, hot shower. And then she remembered the trunk Stephanie and her friends had found in the orchestra pit.
Vivien was mildly curious why there would be a trunk in the orchestra pit, and her curiosity compelled her to take a look before she took off for the day. Usually, the pit was crowded enough with the musicians and their chairs, music stands, and microphones, so why anyone would want to add a large trunk to the space was anyone’s guess. Maybe it held old supplies. The girls hadn’t been able to get it open, though, and she wondered why it would be locked.
The pit was located below and in front of the stage. It could be covered or uncovered with various-sized panels as needed, and since it was currently shielded by those inset pieces, Vivien had to go around to the backstage area where a flight of steps led down to the pit.
She couldn’t help but think of The Phantom of the Opera as she descended into the “dungeon of black despair”—not that it was that deep or black or desperate—and hummed the song a little as she made her way below. She took the stairs because she wasn’t about to test the small, square elevator—which was a necessity for bringing a harp, upright bass, or a grand piano to the pit.
Despite the work that had been done earlier, a few stubborn cobwebs still clung to the top and sides of the stairway. The steps opened into a surprisingly spacious location with a ceiling that was low, but not so low that a violinist would jab it with her bow, and the top of the harp would be comfortably far enough away. Of course, the panels would usually be removed when the orchestra was playing, but there were times when a larger stage was needed or the pit needed to be hidden for some other reason.
There was a single naked light bulb dangling near where the conductor would be positioned—his or her boxlike platform was still in place. There were music stands leaning in a neat pile in a corner—obviously Stephanie and her friend’s work—and stacks of chairs joined them.
Vivien didn’t see the trunk at first, because it was tucked under the lip of the stage toward the front—behind where the conductor would stand. The chest was in a sort of crawlspace beneath the floor of the audience. From the scrapes on the floor, it appeared that the two girls had wrangled the large trunk further into the open space, so it must have been tucked quite far beneath.
Now she was even more curious.
It was what was commonly called a steamer trunk—large, old-looking, and roomy enough to carry a generous amount of clothing. It looked ancient to Vivien, and the leather straps that could be used to bind it closed were dried and curled with age. They lay where, it seemed, the teens had pulled them off. The chest’s corners were covered by tarnished brass bumpers, and whatever color the walls had originally been was now a dull, mildew-spotted dung-brown.
Despite removing the straps, Stephanie and her friend hadn’t been able to open the trunk, and Vivien shined her flashlight closely to examine the latch. There didn’t seem to be any sort of locking mechanism, and so she pushed, pried, and twisted to no avail. She was about to give up when she remembered the multitool in her pocket.
“This’ll do it,” she muttered to herself, flipping open the small pair of pliers and attacking the latch with their tiny metal teeth.
It snapped open easily after that—though not without a little scrape on her hand—and she tucked the tool away. Good thing she’d had a tetanus shot recently, she thought, and, having nothing else, resorted to wiping off the thin line of blood on her shirt.
Then she crouched in front of the trunk. “All right, let’s see what you’ve been hiding down here for who knows how—”
Her words strangled as a shadow fell over her from behind. She gasped and twisted around, losing her balance and falling on her butt as she scrambled away from—
Nothing.
There was nothing there.
No one behind her.
No movement,