“You’ll be the primary drafter for the structure,” Brad continued. “We’ll bring in the mech-Es and double-Es next week.”

“Will you be here too?” She tried not to visibly cringe at the thought. That would be the end to her freewheeling jeans and T-shirt workdays—let alone her hours fornicating with coworkers on bathroom floors. Brad was all business, from his parted brown hair to his polished leather toes.

“Nope.” He was obviously a little disappointed. “I’m too expensive to be on-site full-time drafting. There are perks to being young and cheap.”

She forced a small smile and tried to tell herself it wasn’t an insult or any sort of reference to her personal life.

Iris and Brad discussed the logistics of her assignment for the rest of the morning as she gave him a guided tour of the floor plans she’d drawn. He took a few measurements at random to verify her work. They paused in Linda’s HR office, and Iris stood in front of the smashed bookcase to block the view. Fortunately, Brad was less concerned about the furniture and more interested in the space hidden behind the locked door.

“Did you confirm this space here marked ‘bathroom,’ ‘cold-air return,’ and ‘mechanicals’?”

“Well, I couldn’t get any access,” she said apologetically. “The door is locked, and Ramone doesn’t have the key.”

“But how did you determine what the spaces are?”

“Ramone told me . . . and they match the fourth floor.”

“We’ll need to remove the door and probe some of the walls to confirm it,” Brad said, making notes on the plan. He looked up at her scowling face and added, “Don’t worry. You couldn’t have done more without some equipment. In two weeks we’ll have a contractor cut some holes.”

Iris nodded, but the perfectionist straight-A student inside her deflated a bit. Brad’s review was the closest thing to an evaluation she’d received since starting the job, and she’d just been given a B. She tried not to sulk as she followed him back down the stairs to the loading dock.

“All right. I guess I’ll leave you to it. I’ll check in Friday on your progress. They’ll deliver the workstation at the end of the week.”

Brad walked out the overhead door, and she was alone again in the dock. Ramone was nowhere to be seen as usual. She paused, looking around the dimly lit cavern, and shivered in the dank, putrid air. Suzanne’s words echoed in her mind. “There’s a reason that building hasn’t been bothered all these years.”

The reason the building hadn’t been bothered was that nobody wanted to buy it until now, she argued. Downtown was full of vacant buildings. A real estate investment firm bought it as a tax write-off. They bought it to just let it sit—that was the point. If they were planning to sell it to the county, there couldn’t be some deep, dark secret buried inside. She had to stop running around talking to crazy old women.

Iris climbed the dock stairs up to the service elevator door just beyond the loading platform. She was hoping the elevator still worked but hadn’t tried it yet. She pressed the button and was surprised when it actually opened. Inside, she hit the button for the sixth floor and stood there waiting. She hit it again. Nothing happened. Shit. She had to find Ramone.

Ramone’s office couldn’t be far, but she hadn’t seen any sign of it yet. Her first day in the building with Brad, they had been down in the basement vaults when Ramone had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe it was down there.

Iris walked the long service corridor to the third set of stairs, hidden in the back of the building. She flipped on her Magnum flashlight and pulled the heavy door to the basement stairwell open. The white beam poured down the dark well. The sound of water dripping echoed up from the cold stone floor. She gripped the flashlight like a weapon as she crept down the concrete steps toward the basement.

At the bottom of the stairs, the clang of something metal hitting the ground on the other side of the door stopped her in her tracks. She recognized the muffled sound of Ramone’s gravelly voice. He was cursing. She eased the door open a crack and caught a glimpse of Ramone. His back was to the door, and he was crouching inside the vault. Steel tools glinted in the light on the floor next to him.

He threw one to the ground with a loud “Fuck!” He turned toward her and leaned his head back against the wall of safe deposit doors. He might have been trying to pick a lock, she realized.

He lit a cigarette and studied a long, thin awl with disgust. Then he lifted his eyes in her direction. She ducked behind the door and it slammed shut. Shit.

Thinking fast, she began twisting and pulling at the handle and kicking the door, making a terrible racket. “Damn door!” she shouted, pounding on the steel. “Ramone? Ramone, are you in there? I need help with this stupid thing.”

She slammed her shoulder against it and nearly fell to the ground when Ramone swung the door open.

“What the hell you doin’?” he barked. A flicker of rage lit his bloodshot eyes.

She decided to go with her act and prayed he bought it. “That damned door nearly slammed on my hand! This place is a death trap, I swear!”

Ramone shook his head. His expression softened to mere annoyance. “This isn’t a good time. I can’t show you the tunnels today.”

Iris blinked. She’d forgotten all about the tunnels. “Actually, I need your help with the elevators. I can’t get them to work.” She held up her hands like a helpless girl.

“You need a key,” he grumbled, not amused by her act. He pulled out his large ring of keys and handed one to her. It was marked “E.”

His set of tools was gone from the vault floor. From his tired eyes, it didn’t look like he’d ever had any luck with them, but it did explain why he might be willing to live in the dusty tomb of a building. Maybe he figured he was sleeping next to his retirement fund.

“Thanks!” Iris turned to go back up the stairs.

“The elevator’s over there.” Ramone pointed her around the corner, past the vaults.

“Oh! Thanks! I guess that would be faster. I hate those stairs!” she yammered as she skirted past him and out of sight.

Once she was around the corner, she breathed easier. She found the elevator and pressed the call button. An unmarked door stood open just a few feet away from where she was waiting. She glanced over her shoulder and then tiptoed over to it.

The room was no bigger than a closet. Wedged inside there was an army cot, a chair, a small TV, and a TV tray table. It couldn’t be more dreary, with its beige walls and a bare lightbulb. So this is where Ramone lives, she thought. No one should have to live this way. She found herself sort of hoping he would succeed in opening a box or two. Time was running out.

There was a framed black-and-white photograph of a beautiful dark-skinned woman in a white hat on the TV tray next to his cot. His mother? Tucked in the corner of the frame was a more recent color photograph. It was a small headshot of a beautiful blond young woman. Staring at it, she felt someone’s eyes watching behind her. She snapped her head around, but no one was there.

She turned back and studied the color photo one more time. The girl wore a high-collared blouse and bright red lipstick. Her hair was up in a twist. Iris couldn’t linger in the room. Ramone wasn’t far. She tore her eyes away and hurried to the elevator.

CHAPTER 32

Inside the elevator, Iris stared at the numbered buttons. She was pretty sure she was supposed to draw up the eighth floor next, but she had to get her clipboard out of her bag to check. As she fumbled through it, three files fell out, scattering papers all over the elevator floor.