Chapter 7 - The Trapdoor
"It's forged!" Valerie screamed, slapping the paper off the table. She glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You spiteful old hag. You set this up. You dragged us down here to what? Blackmail me?"
"I don't want your money, Valerie," I said, closing the binder. "I just wanted my home back."
"Well, you can't have it!" she laughed, a hysterical, jagged sound. "It's sold! The money is offshore! You think this little scrapbook of yours means anything? You're a lonely widow in a massive house you don't belong in. I'm leaving. David, come on."
She turned and marched toward the open steel door of the vault.
"Valerie," I called out.
She paused in the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder.
"Do you know why Thorne built this room so deep underground?" I asked.
"I don't care," she spat.
"Because Wi-Fi doesn't reach down here. Cell service doesn't reach down here." I pulled a small, black remote from my cardigan pocket. "And because the locking mechanism isn't on the handle."
I pressed the button.
With a heavy, mechanical groan, the six-foot slab of river rock and steel began to swing shut.
Valerie shrieked and lunged for the gap, but David caught her by the waist, pulling her back. "Don't! It'll crush you!"
The door slammed shut with a deafening THUD, followed by the sliding of four deadbolts engaging. We were sealed inside.
Valerie threw herself against the heavy steel, pounding her fists until her knuckles bled. "Let me out! Open the door! Margaret, open the damn door!"
I sat down at the oak table and folded my hands.
"We wait," I said calmly.
May you like
"Wait for what?!" Valerie sobbed, pulling out her phone. "No signal. No signal! David, she's kidnapped us! Do something!"
David stood against the far wall, his hands in his pockets, staring at the woman he had married. "I think," he said softly, "I want to hear the rest of what my mother has to say."
