Hidden in the Wall. Valerie Hansen

the interior walls was not plastered. Small windows at ground level didn’t let in much natural light because of the evergreen foundation planting of azaleas and stocky palmettos.

      As Steff reached the bottom of the stairs she hesitated. Something was amiss. A frown creased her brow. She hadn’t been downstairs in ages but she didn’t recall the archives being such a cluttered mess. What in the world could have happened to them? And why?

      The oblong tubes containing blueprints were easy to locate because of their unusual shape. The other paperwork was not. A thick layer of dust had been disturbed where the bank records were stored, making her suspect that the boxes had recently been moved and perhaps opened.

      Puzzled, she stood quietly and stared while her mind raced. In the background a mouse skittered. The beams overhead creaked. Something rustled in a far corner.

      The hair on Steff’s neck began to prickle in earnest. She had just started to turn back toward the stairs when she thought she glimpsed movement in the shadows.

      She froze. Was she imagining things? Probably. After all, she and Brenda were the only ones upstairs right now, so there couldn’t be anyone else in the basement.

      Except Trevor, she added, since he was supposed to be working in her office.

      Steff’s survival instincts took over. She grabbed the blueprints she’d come for, whirled and dashed toward the stairway at a run.

      At this point it didn’t matter whether there was a prowler lurking behind her in the darkness or not. All she wanted was to escape!

      Trevor was carrying another wooden plank through the foyer when a breathless, wide-eyed Stephanie crested the stairs. He dropped the board and ran to her as soon as he saw her panicky expression.

      “What is it? What’s the matter?”

      “Nothing,” she insisted, fighting to catch her breath.

      He grasped her shoulders and held her fast. “Don’t give me that. You’re shaking like a leaf. What’s wrong?”

      “I, um, I thought I heard somebody in the basement just now. Brenda was giving me spooky ideas and I know my imagination took over. It can’t be anything.”

      “Suppose I go take a look.”

      “That’s not necessary.”

      “Maybe not. But I’m going to do it anyway. You coming?”

      Steff shook her head and hung back. “That’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

      “Suit yourself.” He pushed through the door and descended the staircase a lot faster than she had.

      She stood in the open doorway and called down, “Do you see anything?”

      “Not yet.”

      Trevor began to systematically search the stacks. It wasn’t until he came to the farthest overhead window that he began to think Steff may have actually sensed something amiss. The hinged pane wasn’t all the way open but it wasn’t latched, either. There was a remote possibility that someone athletic enough to pull himself up and wriggle through could have left by that route. Of course, the basement denizen could just as easily have been one of the pet campus cats. That was a much more likely scenario.

      Trevor closed and secured the window, then returned to Steff. “There’s nobody down there now, but I did find one window half open. I closed and latched it for you. Whoever or whatever it was can’t get back in now, so the problem is solved.” He hesitated, unsure about her steadiness. “You okay?”

      “I told you, I’m fine.”

      “Then you might want to stop shaking.” For the first time he took notice of the armload of material she was carrying. “What have you got there?”

      “Blueprints,” Steff said. “I’m sure you’ve heard that we’re going to add on to the Kessler Library. I wanted to see the original plans.”

      “No, I hadn’t heard. When were you going to tell me about it? After the contract was done and it was too late for Whittaker Construction to bid?”

      “Of course not. The job will be advertised, as always,” Steff said firmly. “As a privately funded college we don’t have to do that, you know, but we always try to be fair.”

      “Oh, sure. You hand me the crumbs so Alicia will think you’re on our side, then award the really plum job to somebody else. Which company has the inside track, Steff? Is it Fowler Brothers? I know they’re tight with your father.”

      She bristled in response to his accusatory tone. “Nobody has any inside tracks, Mr. Whittaker.”

      “We’ll see about that. I’ll be finished in your office in a few more days, but I’ll be watching the newspapers for the official the announcement. When the bids come in, Whittaker Construction’s will be included.”

      “I know the board of trustees will look forward to considering it,” she said formally. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

      He stepped aside and watched her walk stiffly away, her heels clicking on the inlaid hardwood floor. Disgusted with himself for snapping at her, he stomped over to the board he’d dropped and picked it up. The way he was feeling right now, Trevor figured he could gnaw that board to size about as fast as he could saw it with his power tools.

      He hadn’t meant to antagonize Steff. On the contrary, he was deeply concerned about her, which may have been why he’d reacted as strongly as he had. He knew she was hiding something and he didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark.

      Like it or not, Steff and he were emotionally connected. His dilemma was not whether to acknowledge his newfound empathy. It was figuring out how to deal with it.