Page 3 of Night Moves
Polishing Willow’s nails was another red flag. A big one. But again, it wasn’t abusive. Could even be construed as sweet—if the creep factor didn’t go along with it. There was no way Natalie could take the children from Kirk, not unless she found the basement and located proof of wrongdoing there. Or even located Tracey down there.
A shudder raced over Natalie as she hurried through the tidy family room, perfectly decorated in warm beiges and browns with a hint of flashy orange that fit with the way Kirk had described Tracey’s flamboyant personality.
Natalie stopped at the bookcase where the family cat, Tabitha, was crunching dry food from her nearby bowl. She paused to glance up, the black rings around her eyes looking like a mask in her otherwise sleek tan fur. If she were a human, Natalie could see her shrugging as she went back to eating, not caring that Natalie was present.
Natalie turned her attention back to the shelf filled with decorative items and family photos. She leaned closer to inspect it for a hidden opening, but Tabitha scooted past Natalie’s feet, nearly upending her. She grabbed onto the shelf to balance. The shelf gave way, and the whole unit popped out.
The opening was still there. A hidden passage. Willow was right. Her dad had done a great job making the door look like a simple bookshelf.
Natalie pulled the bookcase wide open and flipped on the light switch. The single bulb revealed rough wooden steps leading down to gray cinder block walls. She started down, careful not to trip with her high heels, but paused on the third step.
Did she have time to check out the basement before Kirk’s tests were finalized and he was released? Was it safe to do so? He said he would call before he left, but he could forget.
It didn’t matter. She had to go.
Her suspicions weren’t enough to go to the police. Not nearly enough. She’d brought leads to the detective after her sister’s murder only for him to patronize her and send her on her way. She wouldn’t make the same mistake here. If concrete evidence of Kirk’s guilt existed in this basement, she would locate it so when shedidcall the police, they could finally take action.
She felt her pocket to confirm she had her phone and started down the stairs.
One at time. Careful. Slow. Listening. Her heart pounded hard, each beat sounding like an explosion in her head.
She reached the stained concrete floor. A strong musty odor greeted her. She moved ahead, inching toward a worn door with flaking white paint. She pulled it open. Another odor, sharp and caustic, swept out. Bleach. Yes, it was bleach.
Was she right? Had Kirk killed Tracey here and cleaned up after he murdered her?
Natalie swallowed hard. Dreaded going into the dark room with low ceilings. Dreaded seeing what was in there, but she would continue on for her sister’s sake.
She tugged on the string hanging from a florescent fixture, and light flooded the room. She blinked a few times. Looked around. A rugged workbench filled one wall. It was scarred and chipped from years of use. It had probably been in this basement since the house was built in the twenties. Ahead she found large plywood cabinets painted white but grayed over time. She was half afraid to open the doors, but she’d come this far. She had to look.
She crossed the room, stepping over a rusty floor drain. She used the hem of her blouse to keep from destroying evidence and jerked open the first cabinet. One quick look and she gasped.
A tote bag with the name Tracey embroidered on the pink canvas sat on the shelf. Next to it was the navy blue rain jacket Kirk had described her wearing the last time he’d seen her, along with a small Gucci purse.
Oh my gosh.Tracey didn’t take off like Kirk claimed. He killed his wife. He really did.
Was her body in one of the other cabinets?
No. Please, God. No.
Natalie’s stomach churned with acid, but she forced herself to pull open the next door.
She jerked it wide. Looked.
Empty.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
But wait. She had the lower cabinets to look in yet.
She bent down. Jerked open the first door. Found boxes stacked neatly on top of each other. The next cabinet held totes markedcamping supplies.
She opened the bins to confirm the contents then closed the doors and gulped in deep breaths.
Clearly Tracey didn’t take off. Or if she did, she’d left her belongings behind. And why would that be? She had to be fleeing in a hurry. Maybe a serial killer right behind her.
Natalie could easily imagine it. Kirk with the knife in hand that he’d used on his other victims. Rage contorting his face. Tracey terrified, racing out the door with just the clothes on her back. Did she get away? Did he grab her? Drag her down here and kill her? Did that explain the scent of bleach?
A shiver ran down Natalie’s body. She reached for her phone to call the police.
