Chapter 1 - The Voice Under the Floor
“MY MOMMY IS UNDER YOUR FLOOR!”
The little girl screamed it in the middle of Roman Calder's charity dinner, and every fork in the mansion stopped moving.
Maisie Ward wore a pale pink dress with a crooked bow. She had bare knees, scuffed shoes, and both fists pressed against her chest.
“She's down there,” Maisie said. “She keeps knocking. Nobody will open it.”
Around them, two dozen guests stood beneath chandeliers bright enough to turn the marble floor gold. A violinist lowered his bow. Roman's security chief, Dax Bell, stepped toward the child.
“Someone get her out of here.”
Maisie flinched so hard Roman felt it in his own bones.
“Stop,” he said.
Dax froze. Roman had built a reputation on speaking softly when he was most dangerous.
Roman crouched until his eyes met the girl's. “What's your name?”
“Maisie. My mom cleans here. Her name is Elena.”
Roman knew the name. Elena Ward worked the late shift, never complained, and always left a tiny paper crane on the staff-room windowsill for her daughter.
“Show me where you heard her.”
Maisie ran to the center of the grand foyer and pointed at a narrow seam in the marble. Roman had crossed that spot a thousand times. Tonight, one corner stood slightly higher than the others.
Dax reached for Roman's arm. “That's an old maintenance hatch. It's sealed.”
“Then you won't mind if I check.”
Roman slid his fingers under the iron ring hidden beside a brass inlay. It resisted, then lifted with a wet crack. Cold air rushed up carrying rust, stagnant water, and the unmistakable smell of fear.
Below the floor, in a shallow service chamber, a blonde woman crouched beside a pipe. One cheek was cut. Her work uniform was filthy. She blinked against the chandelier light as if sunlight might hurt her.
“Mommy!”
“Maisie, baby, don't come down.” Elena's voice broke. Then she saw Roman, and terror changed her face. “Please. Don't tell Victor you found me.”
Roman looked up slowly at the guests, the guards, and his uncle Victor Calder, who stood by the staircase holding a glass of champagne.
“Who put her there?” Roman asked.
Elena grabbed his wrist with the last of her strength.
“The pumps,” she whispered. “He's starting the pumps at nine. There are people underneath the river.”
From somewhere below their feet came three hard knocks.
May you like
Then three more.
And Roman realized Elena wasn't the only person buried beneath his house.
