Chapter 1: Before

I looked at the stack of papers surrounding me and wished (for at least the dozenth time today) that I could run away to the Bahamas. I smiled as I remembered the lunchtime phone call I'd had earlier in the day with my best friend. Sick to death of the audit at work and worried about the full day of meetings I had scheduled for tomorrow, I'd told him if I went missing that afternoon to start looking on the white sand beaches of Nassau. He'd chuckled and reminded me that I had a week of vacation coming, just as soon the auditors went on their merry way.

If I'd known that was the last time I would ever talk to him again, I probably would have told him I loved him. Oh, not that way, not for a long time now. But Caleb Nash was the single most important person in my life. He'd been my boyfriend once, many years ago. When that didn't work, what upset both of us the most was the idea that we'd lose the close friendship we shared. We made a vow, Caleb and I, that no matter how difficult or upsetting the situation was, we'd work through it together. He'd been my best friend ever since.

Wishing I really could walk away from it all, I started digging through the stacks of paper sitting on my coffee table. I worked as an accountant and financial analyst for a cement company. I'd been there about six years and the longer I was there it seemed like the more crap I took care of. Somehow, I'd gotten assigned to deal with a group of sales tax auditors and they were making my life miserable.

Rather than come out once a year, sales tax auditors only bothered me once every three years. I'd heard a rumor that some companies never had to deal with them at all. I put that down to heresy and rampant speculation. I'd been given a list of invoices the auditors needed copies of and most of them were almost the full three years old. I'd managed to locate all but two. After determining the missing invoices weren't hiding in the stack I'd already sorted twice, I slumped on the sofa and argued with myself.

I had a good idea where those invoices might be stored, but it meant going back to the office. I was mostly ready for tomorrow's meeting with the executives to hammer out the final details of the budget. Maybe I could dig for the invoices in the morning?

No.

If I was right, those invoices were buried in the basement file room and there was no way I could hunt through that mess and not come out looking like something the Swamp Thing threw up on New Years Eve. I sighed and pulled myself off the sofa. I wanted to change my clothes before digging around in the cellar at work, or as I privately called it, the Basement of Horror. I wandered back to my bedroom and pulled on an old, stained pair of jeans that had seen better days. The t-shirt I was wearing had a stain on my left breast where I'd spilled red sangria a few months ago, so it would do. I shoved my feet into my oldest pair of sneakers, grabbed my keys, and headed out to my car.

The apartment complex was quiet. It was a small town and the people who lived here were mostly older, like myself. Well, I'm not that old but I'd celebrated my forty-third birthday earlier this year so I fit right in around here. I had a large, two bedroom apartment on the top floor of my three story building. It wasn't anything special, but it had been built back in the 1970s and the apartments were virtually soundproof. My neighbors were friendly enough, but we mostly left each other alone.

It was only a short drive to my office. I always thought it was a little odd to see a two story office building sitting in the middle of a field. There were some houses here and there nearby, but it was very rural and deserted. In order to be close to the stone quarry and mixing plant that served as our center of operations, the company had decided to build the offices out here rather than in town. I didn't mind the surroundings during the day, but the sun was almost gone and, in the dark, the deserted atmosphere bumped up the spook factor.

I parked next to the admin building and carefully locked my car before heading inside. I may be a small town girl, but my parents had drilled into me it was better to be safe than sorry. It was funny how missing them would sometimes hit me out of nowhere. My dad had died when I was barely into my twenties, but my mom had only been gone a few months.

As I thought about her, a fresh wave of grief hit me. Being out here in the middle of nowhere, with the moon just beginning to rise, made me wish I'd picked up my baseball bat and brought it with me. My mom had given it to me as Christmas gift a few years back. She'd been worried when I moved into my apartment that someone would break in and "do bad things" to me.

We'd all laughed when I unwrapped the thing, but my mom had looked me in the eyes and in all seriousness said, "Lauren Anne Summers, I want you to promise me that you'll keep that bat next to your bed. I don't want some sheriff standing on my doorstep telling me you're gone because you didn't have anything to defend yourself with."

"Yes, Momma, I promise." And I'd kept the bat next to my bed ever since.

The ache of grief subsided as I unlocked the front door and stepped inside the building. It was so quiet when no one was here. I turned on every light switch I passed as I headed up to my office on the second floor. There was a long shot chance I had the invoices in my file cabinet. If I could save myself a trip to the Basement of Horror, it was worth a look.

After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, I knew my last chance of success was downstairs in the cellar file room. I grabbed the key out of the storage cabinet on the wall and headed down to the first floor. The door to the basement was standing open, but that wasn't unusual. It was never closed. What was odd was the back door to the office being slightly ajar. I frowned as I looked at it. The cleaning lady must not have locked it when she left. The locks were a pain in the ass and I regularly had trouble with them. I pulled the door tight and made sure the lock was engaged before I headed down the cellar stairs.

I hated these stairs. Absolutely hated them. They were narrow and steep, with a very shallow tread to step on. I always felt like I was going to fall down because the step was narrower than my foot. To keep myself from slipping, I reached out to grab the banister but stopped before I closed my hand over it. It was an old black iron pipe that had been painted a dark green about a million years ago. I don't think it had ever been cleaned and I debated which would be more painful, falling to my death or the contagious deadly disease I was sure to catch from the handrail. Luckily, my t-shirt had long sleeves so I grabbed the cuff and pulled it over my hand before I took hold of the rail.

I shuddered once and then carefully began to make my way down the stairs. About halfway down, the smell washed over me. Mildew, stagnant water, with a vague thread of sewage running through it made the air disgusting to breathe. The whole building had been renovated a few years ago, but since the basement was used only for storage it had been left to rot in peace.

At the bottom of the stairs I turned the light on and rolled my eyes at the toilet sitting in the corner. The damn thing was still hooked up and overflowed every time we had a heavy rain. Who in the hell would have ever used that thing to begin with? I couldn't imagine why it was there at all. Ick.