old sealed door. The contractor said it probably led to a basement, but the city plans didn’t show one.”
I remembered.
We had been exhausted, broke, and weeks behind schedule. A contractor had found a bricked-over doorway behind shelving. Opening it would have required permits and money we didn’t have. We had covered it with drywall and promised to come back to it someday.
We never did.
Samuel leaned forward. “A basement not on city plans?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or an old cellar.”
Emma looked at the map again.
“What if Ashford isn’t after the restaurant building?” she said. “What if they’re after what’s under it?”
No one spoke.
Then the doorbell rang.
The sound echoed through the house.
Everyone turned toward the hallway.
A minute later, the security guard appeared at the library door, holding a plain manila envelope.
“Mr. Hayes,” he said, uneasy. “Someone left this at the
