Chapter 8 - The Door Beneath the Earth
My heart pounded in my throat. I descended the wooden stairs first, ignoring Sergeant Miller's cautionary warning. My boots hit the dirt floor of the underground room with a dull thud.
The air down here was dead and freezing, completely isolated from the rest of the house. The walls were reinforced with brick and timber, forming a secure, soundproof vault that no one on the street above could ever hope to hear through.
I walked straight toward the heavy metal door at the back of the bunker. There was no handle on the outside, only a digital keypad and a mechanical deadbolt.
"Miller! Davis! Get over here!" I called out.
The officers hurried down the stairs, guns drawn, sweeping the room. When they saw the metal door, their expressions turned grim.
"Is there a code?" Davis asked, inspecting the keypad. It was battered and old, but the LED screen was faintly glowing, powered by a auxiliary marine battery wired into the house's main electrical grid.
"I don't know," I muttered.
I thought back to the journal we found upstairs, and the dates Vance had scrawled across the pages. Dates, numbers, recurring patterns. I looked closely at the keypad buttons. A few keys—specifically 2, 0, 1, 6—were worn down and shiny from frequent use, while the rest were dusty.
I punched in the numbers: 2-0-1-6.
A sharp red light flashed on the keypad. Beep-beep-beep. Incorrect.
I tried Emma's birthday. Incorrect.
I stood there, sweat beading on my forehead, racking my brain. What would a delusional, obsessive stalker use as a master code for his ultimate vault?
I looked back at the framed family photograph on the table. It showed a smiling little girl with pigtails, holding a stuffed rabbit, standing next to her parents. Engraved on the brass plaque at the bottom of the frame was a date: October 14, 2015.
I walked back to the keypad and typed in: 1-0-1-4.
Click.
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The heavy deadbolt retracted with a satisfying, mechanical snap. The thick steel door slowly swung open on its own, releasing a gust of cold, crisp air that smelled faintly of pine and fresh laundry.
We raised our flashlights and stepped through the threshold.
