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wall. The track lighting flickered, threatening to plunge the room back into darkness. Her stomach twisted violently at the thought.
    She recoiled as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Three men dressed in black fatigues and brandishing assault rifles slowly entered the room.
    “Emilie, it’s me.” Nathan raised the shield on his helmet. “Are you all right?”
    She didn’t know how to answer. “I heard them say you’d been shot. Your arm?”
    “It’s nothing.” He smiled at her, and a knot of emotion gathered in her throat.
    “You knew he was after me.”
    He closed the distance between them and knelt beside her. “I figured it out. Looks like you need the medic.”
    She ignored the comment. “You risked your life for all of us. Without question.”
    “There was no question to it.”
    The hard lump thickened. “Thank you.”
    “You’re very welcome.”
    A beat passed between them. Beneath the pain of her bruises and bleeding lip, a faint sense of peace slid around her.
    Nathan stood up. “Sit still until the medic comes.” He pointed to the tallest officer, who had also raised the shield on his helmet, revealing an average face and deep-set, brown eyes. “This is Chris. The other guy is our boss, Sergeant Johnson. Can you tell us what happened?”
    A fourth man on the stairs kept his helmet close and his rifle raised, as did Sergeant Johnson.
    Emilie focused on Nathan and pointed to the west wall. She still couldn’t accept what she had seen. “There was a door. It was sealed up with drywall, and there were boxes in front of that. I didn’t know.”
    “Holy God.” Nathan and Chris moved toward the opening she’d never known existed.
    “I swear, I didn’t know. The bank’s built over an old foundation, but the drywall’s always been there.”
    “Let us worry about the door,” Chris said.
    “I want to know what’s behind that door.” Emilie struggled to her feet. She couldn’t just walk away, not yet. She needed to know. She had a right to know. “Where did the partner go?”
    “Stand back.” Johnson, the one in charge, edged past Chris and Nathan, rifle raised. The officers closed the glass shields on their helmets and got into position behind him.
    Emilie’s heart stuttered as Johnson’s gloved hand closed around the rusted metal handle and yanked hard. Nothing happened.
    “Son-of-a-bitch wedged it shut,” he said. “Get the ram down here.”
    Emilie shuffled toward Nathan, her knees wanting to give out. Weariness settled into her bones, but she needed to repeat the words ricocheting in her head. She tapped his shoulder.
    The visor came up to reveal blue eyes. “You need to sit down until the medic clears you. And you’re going to have to talk to the detective in charge. I should warn you about him.”
    She barely heard him. The aged, wooden door commanded her attention, dredging up a memory from just hours before. “The devil’s underground.” The words stuck to her tongue.
    “What?”
    “Creepy—that’s what I called him. He talked about it being the road to hell. He compared it to Dante.” Cold chills swept over her sweating skin. “He said he was going to take me there.”
    Nathan’s eyes widened, and then he nodded. “Thanks for telling me. Here comes the paramedic. Let her look you over, please.”
    Emilie didn’t want to. She wanted to see SWAT open the door. But the shock started to wear off, and her body hurt.
    “Please tell me what you find,” she said.
    “I promise.”
    *   *   *   *
    S TALE AIR BLANKETED the basement. Old equipment and boxes of office supplies littered the unused space. Jagged pieces of faded, dirty drywall lay in a pile near them. The partner had torn it off quickly and kept another person in check at the same time. Had it been loose?
    “Bastard jammed it shut,” Chris said as Nathan inspected the door. It was made of sturdy oak. Rusting metal rods held the planks together.
    “This sucker is old, Nate. Our perp didn’t put it