Chapter 12 - Descent into the Cellar
The air that rushed up from the hidden staircase smelled of damp earth, stone, and old cider barrels. Without a second thought, Elena grabbed the leather ledger, scooped Clara up into her arms, and slipped through the narrow gap just as the study door handle began to jiggle.
"I know you're in here, Mrs. Vance," Miller’s voice echoed sharply inside the room as the heavy oak door swung open against the wall.
Elena pulled the bookshelf back from the inside until it clicked shut with a muffled thud, plunging them into absolute darkness. Every breath felt loud, every heartbeat like a bass drum in the confined space. Clutching Clara tightly, Elena began feeling her way down the steep, narrow wooden steps one careful foot at a time.
"Be quiet, sweetheart," Elena whispered against her daughter’s hair.
"Grandpa is waiting at the bottom," Clara whispered back, her voice echoing softly in the enclosed stairwell.
Elena’s heart skipped a beat. She didn't dare answer. She reached the bottom of the stairs, her sneakers making contact with cold packed dirt. The faint beam of moonlight filtering through a small, high cellar window illuminated a dusty room filled with wooden crates, empty canning jars, and rows of winter squash.
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And sitting on an old wooden stool beside the root cellar’s heavy oak exit door was her father, calmly sharpening a pocket knife with a whetstone.
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