Chapter 17 - The Red Dahlia
The pantry cellar was cold, smelling of earth and damp concrete. Claire slammed the heavy iron drop-door shut, sliding the rusted bolt into place just as heavy boots thudded onto the kitchen floor directly above them.
"They're going to kill us," Vanessa sobbed, clutching her bruised arm in the pitch blackness. "This isn't about the money, Claire. Ethan, that woman, the trust... they never intended to let anyone walk away from that gala alive."
"Be quiet," Claire whispered, pulling her sister against her chest. She pulled her phone from her pocket. The screen showed zero bars—the mercenaries were using military-grade signal jammers.
Suddenly, a faint red glow appeared at the far end of the cellar tunnel.
The underground passage had originally been part of the Underground Railroad, connecting the estate to the riverbanks half a mile away. But where the tunnel was supposed to end in a collapsed stone wall, the bricks had been excavated.
A modern reinforced steel door stood open, bathed in the glow of emergency red LED strips. Above the lintel, painted in crimson, was a crude emblem of a flowering dahlia—the exact symbol etched into the back of Charles Whitmore’s signet ring.
"Someone prepared this route," Claire murmured, stepping cautiously down the damp tunnel.
"Claire, don't," Vanessa pleaded. "It’s a trap."
"Staying here is a death sentence, Vanessa. Look at the door."
On the steel frame hung an electronic keypad. Beneath it was a small digital screen flashing an automated message:
*Pendant Authenticated. Welcome home, Eleanor.*
May you like
Claire's blood ran cold. She reached up to touch the blue stone at her throat. The pendant was pulsing with a faint, rhythmic vibration.
***
