Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jo peered into the well at Pickles. The little cat looked terrified but seemed to be okay physically.
“Poor thing,” Bridget whispered, her voice tight with worry. “How are we going to get him out of there?”
The well was deeper than Jo had expected, though thankfully, it was dry.
The stone walls stretched down at least twenty feet, their surfaces slick with years of moss and decay.
Pickles crouched on a small patch of earth at the bottom, his fur matted with dirt.
He looked up at Jo, letting out another soft meow, as if begging her to come down to get him.
“We’ll need a ladder,” Sam said, his voice tense. He was already stepping back, scanning the area for anything that could help.
“There’s one in my shed,” Jo said, pulling herself away from the edge of the well.
They hurried back toward the house, veering toward the old shed near the edge of the property. The structure was weathered, its roof sagging from years of neglect, but it was still standing.
Sam pushed the door open with a creak, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, the shed was filled with tools—rusted shovels, cracked flowerpots, and stacks of old wood. Jo’s eyes scanned the cluttered space until they landed on an old ladder, leaning against the far wall.
“Perfect,” Sam muttered, already grabbing it. He hefted the ladder over his shoulder with ease and turned back to Jo and Bridget. “This should do it.”
They rushed back to the well, the cold biting at their skin. Jo’s hands were shaking as she helped Sam set the ladder down into the well. It was almost too wide to fit, but thankfully, they managed to get it to the bottom.
Pickles hadn’t moved from his spot at the bottom, his eyes still locked on them.
“I’ll go,” Sam said, his voice firm as he stepped over the rim of the well onto the first rung. He glanced at Jo, his expression unreadable. “You ready up here?”
Jo nodded, her breath puffing out in short, sharp clouds. “Yep.”
Bridget hovered behind them, her hands clutched tightly together, eyes fixed on Pickles.
Sam began to climb down, his boots scraping against the slick stone walls. Jo gripped the top of the ladder, steadying it as he descended. The air inside the well was damp, musty, the smell of earth and moss rising up around them.
“Almost there,” Sam called up, his voice echoing off the walls.
Jo leaned over the edge, watching as Sam reached the bottom. He crouched beside Pickles, speaking softly to the frightened cat. For a moment, Jo held her breath, praying that Pickles wouldn’t dart away or make things harder. But the cat seemed too exhausted to put up a fight.
“It’s okay, boy,” Sam murmured, reaching out a hand. “Come here.”
Pickles let out another pitiful meow, his body trembling as he took a tentative step toward Sam. Jo watched, her heart pounding, as Sam carefully lifted the cat into his arms. Relief washed over her. They had him.
But then, Sam froze.
Jo’s grip on the ladder tightened as she watched him go completely still. “Sam?” she called down, her voice edged with concern. “You okay?”
There was a beat of silence before Sam responded, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Yeah… but, uh, Pickles isn’t the only thing down here.”
Jo’s heart lurched in her chest. She leaned farther over the edge, her knuckles white as she clung to the rim of the well. “What do you mean?”
Sam shifted, adjusting Pickles in one arm as he knelt down. “There’s something else… under the dirt. I can see… bones.”
Jo felt the blood drain from her face. “Bones?”
Sam’s voice was steady but grim. “Yeah. Human.”
“Are you sure?” Jo called down.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam said. He was crouched now, running his hand carefully over the ground. “Looks old. Part of the skull is exposed… and there’s more buried beneath the dirt.”
Jo swore under her breath, adrenaline spiking through her as she processed what this meant. A body in the well. How long had it been down there? And, more importantly, who was it?
She straightened, her mind already racing ahead. This was a crime scene now. They needed to call in forensics, secure the area. But first, they had to get Sam—and Pickles—out of the well.
“Okay, let’s not touch anything else down there,” Jo said, her voice steadying as she slipped back into professional mode. “Just bring Pickles up, and we’ll deal with the rest.”
“On it,” Sam called back, his voice tight. He shifted again, making sure Pickles was secure in one arm as he began to climb back up the ladder. Jo watched him carefully, her hands still gripping the top of the ladder as he made his way up, slow and steady.
As Sam reached the top, Jo extended her arms, helping him lift Pickles over the edge and into Bridget’s waiting hands. Bridget held the cat close to her chest, tears shining in her eyes as she whispered reassurances to him.
Jo barely had time to feel relieved before her attention snapped back to Sam, who was pulling himself out of the well. His jaw was tight as he straightened and dusted the dirt off his jacket.
“Definitely human,” he muttered, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We’re going to need a full team out here. Whoever that is down there... they’ve been dead a long time.”