Chapter 3 - The Hidden Tunnel
The sound of heavy combat boots stomping across my kitchen floor paralyzed me with fear.
There were at least three men inside my house now.
I grabbed the black iron key from Oliver and pulled him toward the basement door.
We slipped silently into the dark and crept down the wooden stairs.
I remembered a story my late husband, David, had told me years ago about this old neighborhood.
He said these historic houses had hidden cellar doors built during the Prohibition era.
I ran my hands along the cold brick wall at the back of the basement until I felt a heavy wooden panel.
There was a rusted keyhole hidden behind a loose brick.
I shoved the black iron key into the slot and turned it with all my strength.
The lock clicked loudly, and the heavy panel swung open to reveal a dark, narrow dirt tunnel.
I pushed Oliver inside, crawled in behind him, and pulled the wooden panel shut just as the basement door upstairs burst open.
We crawled through the damp, pitch-black dirt for what felt like hours.
The tunnel sloped upward, leading us directly beneath Adele's yellow house across the street.
We reached a wooden trapdoor at the end of the passage and pushed it open.
We climbed into Adele's basement, but the room was not empty.
Sitting in the center of the dark room was a man tied securely to a wooden chair.
He was bruised, bleeding, and gagged with a torn piece of cloth.
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I recognized him immediately from the local news.
He was the real Chief of Police for our city.
