CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jenna stared into the strange opening that been revealed when the wall panel slid open. Cool, stale air flowed from the hidden space.
“Sheriff, I’ll be damned,” Jake muttered from behind her, his voice low with awe. “What have you found?”
She pulled her phone from her pocket and activated the flashlight.
The narrow beam fell on a back wall, but she could only see darkness on both sides.
This was no simple closet. She’d found a passageway barely wide enough for a single person.
The walls were plain wood, unadorned and utilitarian, a stark contrast to the ornate Victorian bedroom surrounding them.
“Can’t tell how far it goes,” Jenna said, stepping forward to direct the light farther.
She could see that on one side the passageway vanished into darkness.
On the other, it extended about ten feet before intersecting with a passage branch into two directions—one left, the other right.
“It branches off. There could be passages like this throughout the entire house.”
Jake stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against hers as he peered into the hidden corridor. “These changes everything about our case.”
“Someone could have used this passage to suddenly appear in Boyd’s room, triggering his heart attack.”
“You said Boyd came to you in your dream,” Jake said slowly. “That he warned you about ghosts that were solid enough to touch.” His eyes met hers. “The house is haunted all right—by a flesh-and-blood killer using these passages to stalk the residents.”
Jenna found something uniquely unsettling about discovering that a killer had been moving through these walls, watching, waiting, perhaps even now.
“Donna Marsh’s death wasn’t an accident,” Jake continued, his voice growing more certain. “And now we know how the killer got into her apartment—through an opening just like this one.”
“And now Boyd,” Jenna added. “Another ‘accident’ that plays perfectly into the house’s haunted reputation.” She backed away from the passage, allowing the panel to remain open. “Both staged to get people talking about the ghost who supposedly haunts this place. But who are we looking for?”
“Nolan Greer,” Jake said. “He’s the only one with access to the entire building. And he mysteriously failed to show up for Boyd’s meeting.”
“He could still be somewhere in there right now,” Jenna said. She glanced back at the dark opening, imagining someone lurking just beyond the reach of her light. “We need to search,” she decided. “But quietly. If we announce this discovery, we risk tipping off our killer that we’re onto him.”
“So, we’ll need to be careful about who we tell,” Jake agreed. “Officer Baldry can help. He’s discreet, and he’s got the build to handle narrow spaces if needed.”
“Good choice,” Jenna said. “Go find him. I’ll keep searching this room for other clues.”
Jake hesitated. “You sure you want to stay here alone?”
“I’ll be fine,” Jenna assured him. “Just hurry back with Baldry.”
With a final glance at the open passageway, Jake turned and left the room. The heavy door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Jenna alone with the body of Boyd Calloway still lying on the bed, covered with a sheet that had been pulled up over his face.
She returned her attention to the passageway, shining her light deeper into its depths. She’d heard that houses of this era sometimes had hidden corridors for staff to move discreetly, but they were usually more straightforward, designed for efficiency rather than secrecy.
Something from her dream with Boyd Calloway surfaced in her memory. He had stood in darkness, but not complete blackness. There had been a flickering, image projected on a wall before him of a Victorian couple undressing in a room much like this one. And for some reason it had been upside down.
Jenna looked at the open panel, then back at the body on the bed.
An impulse seized her—the kind that had guided her through countless cases.
Without giving herself time to reconsider, she slipped into the passageway and pulled the panel closed behind her.
The darkness was immediate and complete, broken only by the thin beam of her phone’s light.
The air was stale and thick with dust that tickled her nostrils.
She took a few careful steps, keeping one hand on the wall to maintain her balance.
When she snapped off her phone’s light, she saw it—a dim, inverted image projected on the far wall of the passage.
Her breath caught. The image showed Boyd’s bedroom, but upside-down, the ornate ceiling now appearing as a floor, the bed seemingly suspended from above.
The quality was ghostly but unmistakable—the bedroom was being projected into this hidden space.
Jenna moved closer, studying the image. She traced the source of the light—a tiny pinhole in the wall, barely visible but allowing a thin beam to pass through.
The hole was positioned at precisely the right height and angle to capture the full room and project it, inverted, onto the opposite wall of the passage.
A camera obscura.
The simplest form of photography, and the oldest—light passing through a small opening to project an image. She’d learned about it in a college elective, but never expected to encounter one in a Victorian mansion in Trentville.
Jenna studied the pinhole, which glowed with light from the room beyond. From the bedroom side, the hole would be nearly invisible in the ornate woodwork. But here, it served as a window—a one-way view into the private spaces of Calloway House.
She guessed that Pete had built these passages when he first builds the mansion.
Not just for servants or secret movement, but for observation.
He’d been watching his guests, spying on them through these carefully placed pinholes—holes that were too small to serve as peepholes, but which served the same function..
The implications sent a wave of disgust through Jenna.
“Sheriff?”
Jake’s voice, muffled but alarmed, came from the bedroom. Jenna quickly retraced her steps to the panel and pushed it open, stepping back into the light.
“What the hell?” Jake stood just inside the doorway, Officer Baldry behind him. “What were you doing, going in there and shutting yourself up alone?”
“I found something,” Jenna said, brushing dust from her sleeves. “Pete Shannon didn’t just build hidden passages—he built a surveillance system.”
She explained what she’d discovered about the camera obscura effect, watching understanding dawn on their faces.
“So, he was spying on people back in his day,” Jake said slowly.
“And now someone has been using these passages to stage these ‘accidents’,” Officer Baldry said.
“That’s right,” Jenna agreed. “We need to explore them, find out where they lead. It’s going to take some time. These patterned inlays seem to be all over the building, probably giving access to every apartment. And we have to search quietly—we can’t alert our suspect.”
“About that,” Jake said, his expression shifting. “What I came to tell you is that someone just showed up at the front door.” He paused, meeting Jenna’s eyes. “It’s Nolan Greer.”
Jenna felt a jolt at hearing the name which was now at the top of their suspects list.
“Nolan’s downstairs?” Jenna asked, keeping her voice low despite the closed bedroom door. The passageway’s hidden entrance still gaped open behind her, a slice of darkness amid the room’s ornate Victorian furnishings. “He just showed up?”
“Walked right through the front door like nothing was wrong. Said he had no idea about what happened to Boyd until Officer Hutchison told him.”
“Don’t start jumping to conclusions,” Jake said, reading her expression. “If Nolan’s our guy, why would he waltz in here the morning after killing Boyd? Why not stay away until the heat dies down?”
“To check his handiwork?” Baldry suggested. “See if we’re on to him?”
“Maybe,” Jenna said. “Or maybe he realized we’d eventually connect the dots, and decided the best defense was to act like he had nothing to hide.”
She glanced back at the passageway, thoughts churning. “Plus, he knows this house inside out. If anyone would have discovered those passages, it would be him.”
Jenna stepped away from the passage, her gaze falling on Boyd’s still form beneath the sheet. A man whose death had been engineered to look like an accident, a haunted house come to life.
“We need to question Greer,” she said. “Where is he now?”
“Officer Hutson took him to the library,” Jake replied. “He’s keeping an eye on him. He’ll stay put.”
Baldry asked, “Should we start searching the passages? Find out where they lead.”
Jenna considered this. "Not yet. First, we need to secure our suspect. Then we can—"
A sharp knock at the bedroom door interrupted her. All three turned toward the sound.
“Who is it?” Jenna called, eyes darting to the open passage behind her. The last thing they needed was for that discovery to become common knowledge.
“Sheriff?” A woman’s voice responded from the corridor. “It’s Melissa Stark. My team and I are here for Mr. Calloway.”
Dr. Stark. The county coroner was a straight shooter who had earned Jenna's trust over years of working together.
“Baldry,” Jenna whispered, “close it up. Now.”
The officer moved quickly, sliding the panel back into place. The wall returned to its normal appearance, just an expanse of carved woodwork giving no hint of the secret it concealed.
“Jake,” Jenna said quietly, “tell Dr. Stark to come in alone. No team members yet.”
Jake stepped to the door. “Dr. Stark? Could you come in by yourself for a minute? We have a situation to discuss.”
A brief pause, then: “Of course.”
The door opened, admitting Dr. Melissa Stark. She wore her customary lab coat over dark pants and a simple blouse, her silver hair pulled back in a practical bun. Her eyes took in the room with professional detachment, lingering on the sheet-covered figure on the bed before returning to Jenna.
“What’s this about?” Dr. Stark asked. “I’ve got a van waiting outside and two assistants ready to transport Mr. Calloway.”
Jenna stepped forward. “First, we need your assessment of the body. Then we’ll explain why we needed to speak with you privately.”
Dr. Stark was accustomed to Jenna’s methods. She approached the bed, pulling on latex gloves. “Dr. Winslow already confirmed the cause of death as likely cardiac arrest or a stroke, correct?”
“That’s what he thought,” Jenna confirmed. “We’re looking for a second opinion.”
With gentle movements, Dr. Stark pulled back the sheet to reveal Boyd‘s face. The dead man’s features were slack, his eyes closed, but his expression still seemed caught between surprise and terror.
She checked his pupils, pressed two fingers to his neck, though any pulse had long since vanished. Her hands probed for any secrets the body might reveal.
“Dr. Winslow’s initial assessment seems reasonable,” Dr. Stark said after a moment. “There’s no obvious trauma, no defensive wounds, no bruising consistent with a struggle.”
She looked up at Jenna. “Though I am curious why my team isn’t allowed in yet. If there’s something I should know before we transport the body...”
Jenna exchanged a glance with Jake. Dr. Stark was thorough, trustworthy—and discreet. They’d need her cooperation if they were going to keep the passage system under wraps until they had a chance to investigate further.
“There’s something you need to see,” Jenna said.
“Show me.”
Jenna stepped to the wall, located the onyx grape, and released the panel. It slid open once more, revealing the dark passage beyond.
Dr. Stark’s expression didn’t change, but her posture stiffened slightly. “A hidden passage,” she said. “Fascinating. Victorian homes sometimes had them for servants, though this one looks quite narrow.”
“It’s not only for moving around unseen,” Jenna explained. “It’s a surveillance system. There’s a pinhole in the wall that projects an image of the room.”
Dr. Stark squinted with interest. “A camera obscura. Fascinating. And you think someone used this passageway to frighten Mr. Calloway?”
Jenna signaled Baldry to shut the entrance again. “Someone moving through these passages, appearing in rooms where no one should be able to enter. Watching from the darkness.”
“Playing the role of a ghost,” Jake added from the bedroom.
“The question is,” Jenna added, “could Boyd have been frightened to death?”
"It's possible," she finally said. "Given his preexisting heart condition.
However, I can't say for certain without a full autopsy, including toxicology.
Even that might not give us positive proof.
But the human body is surprisingly fragile when it comes to fear.
The right shock, at the right moment..." She let the sentence trail off, the implication clear.
Jenna told her, “We’d appreciate it if you could expedite those tests.”
“Consider it done,” Dr. Stark said. “And don’t worry—I understand the need for discretion about the passages. My team will be told only what they need to know.”
“Thank you,” Jenna said, genuine gratitude in her voice.
Dr. Stark turned back to the bed, all business once more. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get my assistants to transport Mr. Calloway. We’ll have preliminary results for you by tomorrow.”
As the coroner moved toward the door, Jenna caught Jake’s eye. “We should go talk to Nolan Greer,” she said quietly. “Before he has time to think up a story.”
Baldry straightened. “Want me to come with you?”
Jenna shook her head. “Stay here, keep an eye on things. Make sure no one else finds out about the passages until we’re ready.”
She and Jake headed for the door, minds already turning to the interrogation ahead.
As they made their way into the hallway, Jenna felt the familiar mix of anticipation and caution that came with confronting a suspect.
Nolan Greer had access, opportunity, and knowledge of the house—all the elements needed to stage Boyd’s “accidental” death.
They reached the mansion’s grand foyer at the bottom of the stairs. Through an open doorway, Jenna could see Officer Hutson standing guard outside what must be the makeshift holding cell. As they crossed the marble floor toward the library, doubt lingered.
Had they already caught the Calloway house killer? Or was the real monster still watching them from the shadows?