Chapter 10 — Hidden in the Basement
1039 Words
The basement was damp, the concrete floor breathing out a steady chill. Alex crouched in the farthest corner, knees tucked against her chest, every muscle coiled tight. Above her, boots moved on the wooden floorboards—measured, heavy, deliberate.
Her brother Caleb was buying her time.
“…You’re sure you haven’t seen her?” The voice was sharp, the tone of someone who already had an answer in mind.
Caleb’s reply came steady, almost casual. “Not since the funeral. We’re family, but we don’t live in each other’s pockets. If Alex wanted to talk to me, she would’ve called.”
Alex pressed her hand against the cool wall, willing herself not to breathe too loudly. She pictured Caleb standing at the kitchen table, arms crossed over his broad chest, trying to look both offended and relaxed.
The investigator didn’t sound convinced. “Her phone activity puts her near here two nights ago. And we both know she trusts you.”
A chair scraped. Caleb’s voice dropped, clipped. “Trust doesn’t mean I lie for her. You think I’d risk my career for something I don’t understand?”
The question was deliberate, turning suspicion back on the man asking it. Alex could almost smile. Caleb had always been good at holding ground with nothing but his voice.
The investigator’s sigh rattled the ceiling beams. Papers shuffled. “If she contacts you, Sergeant, you’d better report it. Harboring a fugitive is no different than being one.”
Silence stretched. Then Caleb answered, low but firm: “Understood.”
The front door clicked open, then shut. A car engine growled outside, tires crunching gravel.
Alex counted to sixty before she dared move. The basement door creaked open. Caleb’s head appeared in the dim light, eyes sweeping the shadows until they found her.
“You’re getting reckless,” he muttered. “One step slower, and they’d have dragged you out of here.”
Alex rose stiffly. “You covered me.”
He shook his head. “I stalled them. Covering you is getting harder by the minute.”
She searched his face, saw the strain etched into it. Not fear exactly, but exhaustion. He had his own battles—his unit, his wife, his daughter—and now hers was spilling into his home.
“I didn’t want to come,” she said softly.
“Then don’t,” Caleb snapped, then exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “Sorry. But Alex, this isn’t just about you anymore. They’ve marked you, and anyone close to you becomes a suspect. That means me. That means my family.”
Her throat tightened. “I know. I’ll be gone before they circle back.”
Caleb studied her for a long moment, then opened a cabinet in the wall and pulled out an old duffel bag. He tossed it at her feet. “Blanket, water, and a burner flashlight. You’ll hole up here tonight. In the morning, you vanish. For good.”
She caught the weight of the bag, then nodded once. There was no room for protest.
Hours later, the house above had gone quiet. The basement smelled faintly of dust and oil, and the only sound was the hum of the ancient freezer in the corner. Alex sat cross-legged on the floor, Caleb’s old laptop balanced on her knees.
She had slipped into his Wi-Fi carefully, masking her activity with old tricks Jacob once taught her. The irony made her stomach knot. Every click reminded her of his hands guiding hers over a keyboard, his voice low in her ear. Now she hunted him like prey.
She sifted through records—bank transfers, encrypted correspondence, names buried in shell companies. Patterns emerged slowly, threads weaving into something deliberate.
And then—there it was.
Samanta Barnes.
The name pulsed on the screen like a warning. A banker, shielded by layers of clients and secrecy, but her trail crossed Jacob’s again and again. Too often to be coincidence.
Alex whispered the name aloud, tasting it.
The memory of Jacob’s smile burned against her chest. He had hidden so much. If Samanta was a part of it, then maybe she was more than a banker. Maybe she was the key.
Footsteps creaked above. Caleb descended, holding two mugs of coffee. He set one beside her without a word.
“You’re digging again.”
She didn’t look up. “I have to. If I stop, they win.”
He crouched down, voice softer now. “And if you keep going, you burn yourself alive. Alex, you need help.”
“I had help,” she shot back. “Jacob was supposed to be my help. Now he’s the reason they think I’m dirty.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He only reached out, closing the laptop slowly. “Promise me one thing. When you run again—and you will—don’t drag this house down with you. My wife, my daughter…they can’t live under this shadow.”
Her chest ached. She covered his hand with hers. “I’d never hurt them. You know that.”
“I do.” His eyes softened. “But the world chasing you doesn’t care. Remember that.”
He stood, leaving the cup warm in her palm.
When he was gone, Alex opened the laptop again. The banker’s name still glowed on the screen.
She whispered to the shadows, “Samanta Barnes…we’re going to meet.”
The basement swallowed her voice, but Alex felt the vow settle like iron.
By dawn, she was gone.
The duffel bag lay empty in the corner, the blanket folded neatly on top. The laptop sat closed, its screen wiped of every trace.
Caleb found the note she left on the workbench: Thank you. Don’t look for me. Protect them.
He folded it carefully, then burned it over the stove.
Above him, the house stirred awake—the sound of his daughter’s laughter, his wife calling for breakfast. Caleb let the flame die, ash drifting into the sink.
Somewhere out there, his sister was already moving toward another battlefield, chasing the ghost of a man she once loved, and the name of a woman who might hold the truth.
Samanta Barnes.
The next piece on the board.
- Writer
