She hated that answer.
The police finally left around seven.
Before Hale departed, he pulled Caleb aside.
“Can I give you advice?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t touch anything else.”
Caleb nodded.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Hale glanced toward Linda’s house.
“And maybe don’t argue with her tonight.”
“That one I can’t promise.”
Hale smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“Something about this feels strange.”
Caleb looked at the workers.
“Old infrastructure gets forgotten.”
“Not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
Hale lowered his voice.
“That public works supervisor recognized the seal before he admitted it.”
Caleb had noticed too.
“You think he knows more?”
“I think people act differently when they're surprised and when they're worried.”
Hale walked toward his patrol vehicle.
“That man looked worried.”
Caleb stood alone in the yard after dark.
The fence enclosure remained open.
Temporary work lights cast hard white illumination across the grass.
Behind the barrier, the brass seal caught the light.
Caleb stared at it.
For the first time since buying the house, he wondered why his seller had accepted twenty-seven thousand dollars below asking price.
Then he remembered something.
During closing, the elderly owner had said one strange thing.
Caleb assumed it was a joke.
“Whatever you do,” the man had told him, “don't dig too deep behind the garage.”
Caleb had laughed.
The owner hadn't.
CHAPTER 4: THE MAP UNDER THE MAP
The next morning, Caleb called the previous owner.
No answer.
He tried again after breakfast.
Still nothing.
By nine, three county employees were back in the yard using ground-penetrating radar.
Linda stood behind the temporary barrier holding coffee and asking questions they stopped answering after the fourth interruption.
Caleb watched from his garage.
A technician moved the radar cart slowly across the grass.
Back.
Forward.
Turn.
Repeat.
Each pass added another line to the screen.
At 9:47, he stopped.
Called the other technician over.
They whispered.
Caleb walked closer.
“What?”
The technician looked toward the county engineer.
The engineer came over.
“What’d you get?”
The technician turned the screen.
A rectangular void appeared beneath the soil.
Approximately eight feet long.
Five feet wide.
Three to four feet below grade.
It began under Linda’s retaining wall.
Extended beneath the easement.
Then crossed twelve inches into Caleb’s property.
Linda saw the screen.
“What is that?”
The engineer didn’t answer immediately.
Caleb did.
“A vault.”
Linda looked at him.
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
He looked at the rectangle.
“But your old map called it V-3.”
The county engineer rubbed his forehead.
“Nobody digs.”
Linda stared.
“You’re not digging?”
“Not until we know what we’re opening.”
She laughed.
“You've shut down my backyard because there might be a box underground, and now you’re afraid to open the box?”
The engineer looked at her.
“Yes.”
That silenced her.
By noon, the situation moved beyond county public works.
The Virginia Department of Environmental Quality sent two people.
Then came a contractor specializing in abandoned municipal infrastructure.
Then an older man in khaki pants and a blue shirt arrived driving his own pickup.
Frank Delaney walked straight toward him.
They shook hands.
Caleb watched from a distance.
The older man looked at the wall.
Then the enclosure.
Then at Caleb.
Delaney brought him over.
“This is Harold Wynn.”
The man extended his hand.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Caleb shook it.
“What do you do?”
“Used to work for District Twelve.”
Linda nearly dropped her coffee.
“You worked for the old water district?”
Harold looked at her.
“Until it closed.”