Shock Wave. Dana Mentink

      She felt Trey’s gaze on her. He quirked an eyebrow. Done with your interrogation, detective? his eyes seemed to say.

      Not anywhere close to done. Not until I find Antonia.

      A metallic clank startled them all. Fred whirled in the direction of the stage. “You hear that? Someone’s there.”

      “It’s probably Antonia,” Sage said, starting down the stairs again.

      “What is she doin’ backstage? I heard she was hired to paint the frescoes in the lobby only,” Fred muttered. “Don’t nobody do what they’re told anymore?”

      “Maybe she got disoriented in the dark,” Trey said. He tried to edge ahead of Sage but she elbowed him back.

      “Now you gotta stop right there,” Fred said, stepping in front of them. “Miss Rosalind said no one is to be messing around here. I could lose my job.”

      Trey called over his shoulder as they went around him, “Fred, I’ll take care of things. We’ll locate this other trespasser and I will personally escort all of us out of this place.”

      Fred made no attempt to follow, but his voice carried along the stairwell. “It ain’t right. I’m gonna have to call Miss Rosalind. It ain’t right. Wally, come here.”

      The dog barked and darted off again, eliciting an angry tirade from Fred.

      Trey kept pace behind her and Sage felt a twinge of guilt. She called to him. “Rosalind may not take this well. I don’t want to cost you your job or anything.”

      “A job is a job. I can get another one. I’m mostly just biding time, watching my brother’s place while he’s away.” He paused. “How about you? Where do you call home?”

      “Nowhere,” she said, angry at herself for saying it out loud. “Not here, anyway. I’m just in San Francisco for Barbara.”

      “Kind of risking your relationship with the Longs, aren’t you? Chances are you are going to be out of Derick’s good graces after Fred makes his report.”

      She nodded. “I’m willing to take the chance. After I talk to the cops this afternoon, I don’t think Mr. Long is going to ask me in for tea.”

      They took the rest of the steps as fast as they dared until they found themselves at tall metal doors that marked the stage entrance. Her skin prickled as she imagined the walls closing in on them, the darkness reaching out from behind to snatch them. Anxiety burgeoned in her belly like the clouds of dust that erupted under their feet. No panic attacks now. She could not stand the humiliation of turning into a helpless hysterical lump in front of Trey.

      After a deep breath, Sage grabbed the handle and yanked.

      “It’s locked,” she groaned. “Antonia must have gone to the other side. We’ll have to double back.”

      Trey took her hand before she could leave. He pulled her closer and she felt the warmth of his body, the scent of soap on his skin. Her pulse quickened.

      “Hang on, there. I think I can help with this.” He fished something out of his pocket and bent over the lock, his back blocking her view. In a moment, he pushed the door open and turned to her with a cocky grin.

      She gaped. “How did you do that?”

      “I have skills.”

      She raised an eyebrow.

      He shrugged and held up the key ring. “Fred gave me a spare set so I could get in and check on the dog. He forgot to take them back.”

      She grinned, her face unaccustomed to the expression. “So I guess you really do have skills.” For a moment, things were easy between them and she wondered what it would be like if he really was just a carpenter and she just a photographer meeting for the first time. Silly thought. Too much hurt. Too much anger. Her heart was a twisted, blighted thing that would not be salved by daydreams.

      His grin turned serious, swallowed up as they stepped through the double doors into the tomblike darkness.

      THREE

      Trey felt a surge of cold air against his face as he eased open the door. Sage pressed against him and his breath caught. She felt just like he had imagined many times when she wasn’t aggravating him, soft and warm, like a delicious breeze trickling through an Arkansas summer day. He cleared his throat and pushed through the opening. Blackness enveloped them. He groped his way to the wall while Sage held the flashlight. The small glow did little to fend off the cavernous blackness.

      “Gotta be a switch around here somewhere.”

      “You haven’t been in this part of the theater?” she whispered.

      “No. Fred knows it like the back of his hand, so he showed me the places I needed to see.” He found himself replying in an equally hushed voice. “Seems I was hired to repair the front lobby and that’s it. Got my orders not to explore except to check on Wally.”

      Sage made a thoughtful sound. “That didn’t seem odd to you?”

      “Not really. You can see the condition of this place. Not safe for a rat. Personally, I think it’s only suited to the wrecking ball.”

      “Barbara doesn’t seem to think so. She’s paying you, so the Imperial must be good for something.”

      He couldn’t read her expression, but he caught the tone. “As I said, I get paid through Rosalind, she’s the business manager, but if Barbara thinks there’s value here then I stand corrected. She’s smart. Figure it runs in your kin along with the stubborn streak and mouthiness.”

      She huffed. “And I’m sure the women in your family are all delicate flowers.”

      “Maybe I’ll tell you about my mom sometime,” he said, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice that always kicked up when he considered his mother. Sage could learn a thing or two about quiet strength from her.

      “I’m beginning to agree that this place may be beyond repair,” Sage said, her words swallowed up by the cavernous space.

      “It’s a little late for that realization,” Trey said. Finally, his fingers found what he sought. He pushed up the lever and the overhead lights flicked on, at least the three that still had working bulbs.

      The stage was empty in spots and crammed full in others with boxes piled into crazy stacks. Rising above the boxes was the massive wooden cutout of a clipper ship and several smaller bundles swaddled in sheets. “How did all this stuff get here?”

      “The Imperial was purchased about twenty years ago by a man who sank a small fortune into mostly cosmetic repairs. They went bankrupt after only a few shows. Other people bought it, but most of the time it just sat here rotting until Barbara became involved.”

      Trey whistled and the sound echoed strangely. “Wonder why the Longs would want to take on such an expensive wreck? Why not demolish and rebuild?”

      “Barbara’s always been in love with architecture and the opera. This must have seemed like a dream opportunity for her when she married Derick and he bought it for her as a wedding gift.”

      Trey heard the sad lilt in her voice. “An opera house is a pretty big gift. Why would he turn around a year later and make her disappear?”

      Sage locked her eyes on his. “Things can change in a year.”

      But some things don’t, he thought. Some things last, like faith and memories...and love, at least he used to think so. A restless feeling coursed through him. The darkness pressed in on them both until he could stand the inactivity no longer. He stepped forward, but Sage grabbed his wrist. He turned, struck by the way her hair shone, a strange luminosity granted by the eerie light. “Problem?”

      “I did a little studying up on the theater.” She pointed to the floor. “There’s a series of trapdoors built into the stage,