8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Amanda
I know Chad knows about the staircase. They will be here soon. I help Drake along as we go to the far end of the cavernous room where the excavators had set up a base camp in a side corridor. “We have to keep moving,” I apologize as the fast clip jostles his ankle.
“Don’t worry about me,” he hisses, his voice tight with pain. “Just find us a good place to stash ourselves.”
“I’ve got one in mind. Chad was too scared to stay down here. I had to shoot it on my own. There are big brick chambers and a wine cellar lower down that the forensics team was using. I know the cellar has a locking door.” As crazy and spooky as it is, I’m in my element down here. I know the layout—and I’m the only one who does.
The old larders line a hallway that leads to the root cellar doo
