Deadly Dance by Dee Davis

make it better. And besides, it wasn’t really her place.
    With a last look, she headed back down the hall and into the living room. It was small, and sparsely furnished. She checked beneath the old sofa. And then behind a dilapidated bookshelf, carefully tapping the wall, listening for anything that might indicate a hollow space hidden behind the boards. But there was nothing.
    She continued to search, until she was certain she’d exhausted all possibility, and then moved into the small adjoining room. It wasn’t more than about twelve feet square and except for a three-legged table propped beneath a window, there was no furniture. Just a rotting quilt in a corner across the room. At some point it had probably covered the wall, but gravity, with the help of the wind, had managed to relocate it.
    As if echoing the thought, the far edge of the quilt moved in the breeze from the window, and just for a moment, Hannah thought she saw the glint of metal beneath. Adrenaline surging, she drew her gun and moved toward the swaying cloth. Then, holding her breath, she yanked back the quilt to expose a door.
    Heart pounding now, she reached out to pull it open, half expecting it to be locked, but the door obediently swung inward and again Hannah turned on the light attached to her gun. The beam cut into the dark, abolishing the shadows, and Hannah’s spirits sank. It was only a closet.
    She moved the beam of light across the space, but except for a cardboard box in the corner the closet was empty. She blew out a breath and turned to go, but just as she started to step back into the room her mind presented an image of the box.
    Something about it didn’t quite fit.
    She turned back, shining the light on the cardboard container, the incongruity immediately clear. The box, like the bedroom door, was new. Frowning, she knelt beside it, and pulled it open. There was a coil of rope inside. The same kind that had been fastened to the headboard. And a roll of duct tape, the beam of her tac-light catching the silver of the tape.
    Although the find was insignificant in light of the missing girl, it was still possible that there might be prints on the contents. She pushed back to her feet, intent on telling the team what she’d found, but as she started to move, she tripped on the corner of the box and went flying, arms pinwheeling as she fell, her gun spinning across the floor.
    For a moment the world swam crazily, and then her head cleared. Chagrined, she sat up, rubbing one knee, grateful that no one had been there to see her make a fool of herself. The box had slid across the floor, and her gun, its light still shining, was resting a foot or so away. With a resigned sigh, she reached for it, but froze as her gaze landed on the illuminated spot where the box had been.
    The flooring here was different from the rest, the planks cut perpendicularly by what looked to be a frame. Or an edge—marking a trap door.
    Although it was tempting to go in herself, Hannah resisted the urge. She knew from experience that grandstanding usually ended badly. Besides, if someone was down there, he’d have heard her fall, and if said person was a hostile, then he’d be ready.
    Better to get help.
    She rose to her feet and reached to push aside the quilt, but before she could step free, she heard something moving and froze, her fingers tightening on her gun.
    “Hannah, are you okay?” Harrison’s voice filtered through the rotting cotton, and she almost dropped the gun in her relief.
    “I’m here,” she said, pushing past the quilt. “In the closet.”
    “Well, there’s an opening if ever I heard one,” he said, relief playing across his face.
    “Except that you know better,” she shot back without thinking, the words immediately sending blood coursing to her cheeks. “I’m sorry that didn’t come out right.”
    “Seemed pretty on point to me.” He smiled, but then sobered as he studied the opening behind her. “You found