raising the level of caution in her blood.
Had someone stirred it up? Or was she just being paranoid in a dusty old building that made her want to sneeze? She chose the latter and put one foot in front of the other, descending the wide staircase to the ground floor.
She’d give the tip of her right pinky finger for a map of the place, but she’d have to rely on her sense of direction instead. The place had been built at the turn of the century. The kitchen was probably at the back of the building, and so too the stairwell leading to the basement.
Moving off the landing, she turned right, weaving her way through the cloaked furniture. Under the stairwell and directly behind the entry, she found what had once been a dining hall, probably when the building had housed mental patients. It was empty now, save a couple of tables with their chairs upended, legs to the ceiling.
How many patients had dined here?
She picked up her pace through the cavernous room, heading for a row of shutters that lined an opening in the wall to the right. The wide swinging door next to the serving window should lead into the kitchen if she’d guessed right.
Olivia eased the door open, shining the flashlight beam around first before stepping into the massive commercial kitchen. The strong smell of cooking oil and chlorine bleach overwhelmed her nose, almost making her gag.
“Ick,” she whispered as she probed the darkness, settling the beam of light on a narrow doorway at the far end of the galley, with a ladder leaned up against it.
“Yes.” She moved toward it, a sense of relief stirring in her veins. The sooner she found her brother’s file and got the heck out, the better she’d feel. This place gave her the creeps and then some.
She pulled the ladder out of the way, opened the door and stared down the stairwell, pointing the flashlight into the black hole below.
Pulling in a breath, she staved off the desire to turn and run. Down there was the truth and she’d be damned if she was going to stop hunting for it now.
Somewhere in the belly of the structure, a low mechanical groan hummed. About to jump out of her skin, she paused long enough to feel air rush from an overhead vent in the kitchen. The heat had kicked on. Shaking off her jitters, she started down the narrow wooden stairs, her senses on hyperalert.
Every creak of the ancient steps under her feet made her hesitate. At least she’d hear if anyone came down after her. Not that it was even a possibility. She was utterly alone in this place. She hoped.
Olivia reached the bottom of the steps and waved her flashlight around the basement. It had been divided into a series of rooms along the back wall. On her right was a bank of washers and dryers. The clinic’s laundry room.
One of the rooms against the wall on the left had to contain the file storage.
Stepping off the landing, she hurried to the first door and pulled it open. Inside was a food pantry, stocked with a smattering of canned goods.
She closed the door and went to the next one. It was locked. This had to be it. Snagging her tool bag off her shoulder, she fished out her lock picking set and knelt in front of the knob. With her light in between her teeth, she inserted the tension bar into the keyhole. Pushing the rake into the lock, above the tension tool, she coaxed the lock pins, feeling them give. The knob turned and she pushed open the door.
Grasping her flashlight, she shone it into the interior of the large room where rows of metal shelves stood as a testament to the number of patients who’d passed through the clinic. Thousands, she guessed. Olivia shoved her tools into the bag, stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and locked it.
She made a quick assessment moving her light around the perimeter. There were no windows.
Turning back toward the door, she focused on the light switch and flipped it on.
Overhead, a couple of incandescent bulbs dangling from shaded pendants came on, casting light down through the tall shelving units arranged in ten rows.
She could only hope each box had been marked with a month and year. It would make finding Ross’s medical records a piece of cake, but why her parents had signed a nondisclosure order in the first place, she’d never know. They’d both passed away without giving her the information.
Excitement pulsed in her veins. She turned off the flashlight and slipped it inside her tool bag. In less than ten minutes she’d have the answers she’d guessed at for years.
Staring up at the file boxes, she worked her way up and down the rows, until she spotted a box with the month and year she needed. It was on the top shelf. Frustrated, she moved out of the row, looking for something to climb on. In the corner she spotted a stepladder.
Olivia walked over to it, picked it up and carried it back into the row. She opened the ladder and put her foot on the first rung.
The stairs creaked under someone’s weight.
Olivia froze in place, her heartbeat escalating in her own eardrums.
Someone was coming.
A silent curse repeated in her mind as she stepped down off the rung. Whoever was outside the door must know she was in here? If not, the light under the door would be their first clue.
Maybe it was a maintenance man or a…security guard.
She swallowed hard, straining to hear.
There it was again, the groan of the wooden stairs.
Panic ignited in her veins. She went on the defensive. On the right bottom shelf in front of her was an opening between two boxes. She crawled into the void, listening as the doorknob was twisted back and forth a couple of times.
Closing her eyes, she worked to stay calm, pulling air into her lungs in even rhythm.
Overhead, the lights started to buzz, a low-pitched sound, like a bee circling.
A charge of fear racing through her, she opened her eyes and stared up, watching the light overhead dim and glow bright again. A power surge?
Tension held her body captive.
Pop! The glass bulb shattered, sending shards raining to the floor next to her.
A small squeak squeezed from between her lips. She slapped her hand over her mouth.
The second bulb blew into tiny pieces and hit the floor. The room went black.
Olivia reached for her tool bag. The sound of the lock releasing stirred terror in her. It was only a matter of time before she was discovered and arrested.
In desperation, she rummaged in her bag and pulled out the flashlight.
A loud scuffle erupted near the door.
She squeezed the light in her hand, determined to use it as a weapon if anyone got too close.
A deep guttural yell echoed in the room. The sound of mortal combat less than ten feet away from her played out in the dark.
Fear, solid and unmistakable, solidified in her mind.
Something scraped on the floor near her hiding spot. The stepladder she’d left in the row?
It slapped shut, grinding over the floor right past her and splinting into pieces against a wall on the opposite side of the room.
“Where is she?” a raspy male voice demanded from out of the darkness.
“Get out.” The order was unmistakable. Olivia strained to see in the blackness, to put a face with the voice, but if she turned on her flashlight, they’d find her for sure.
“Take care of it or we will.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
Bump! Bump! Bump!
All hell broke loose in the room as one by one the shelves banged into each other, falling like dominoes.
She lunged