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Amy glanced between them, clearly sensing the tension. “You two know each other?”
“We’ve met,” Matt said dryly.
“The sheriff seems to believe I’m harboring nefarious intentions,” Kaitlin added with a tight smile.
Matt’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I believe in questioning convenient coincidences. It’s part of my job.”
“As is interrupting private conversations, apparently,” Kaitlin replied, gesturing to the group she’d been speaking with.
The contractor cleared his throat uncomfortably while Mr. Harrington watched the exchange with undisguised interest.
“Actually, Matt, I was looking for you,” Amy interjected, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. “They found a hidden room in the basement while checking the foundation. Apparently, it’s full of the home’s old records.”
Matt’s attention shifted, though his posture remained stiff. “What kind of records?”
“Administrative documentation, resident logs, medical files, from what I could see,” Amy replied. “Stuff going back to the forties, looks like. All just sitting there in filing cabinets and boxes.”
“I was explaining that my expertise is in precisely this kind of archival work,” Kaitlin said. She fought to keep her expression neutral, though her heart had begun racing at the mention of medical files. Exactly what she needed. “And I was interested in the information they offer.”
She locked gazes with the sheriff while a skeptical frown grew between his eyes. Amy shifted uncomfortably.
“Your help would be incredibly valuable,” Amy ventured cautiously. “I’m completely overwhelmed with the renovation challenges, especially now with the archaeological survey needed for the… well, the discovery in the garden.”
“And your credentials for this work?” Mr. Harrington interceded.
“Are extensive and properly documented,” Kaitlin responded coolly. “I’d be happy to provide references.”
“I’m liking this lady more and more,” Amy muttered. “Especially the volunteer part.”
Matt cleared his throat. “I’d like to see those as well. Your credentials.”
“Of course, though I wasn’t aware I needed the local sheriff’s approval to volunteer my professional services,” Kaitlin agreed. Then she addressed Mr. Harrington with a softer tone. “I can provide those this afternoon. Give me your card and I’ll email them, along with experience and several references. I do hold an archival certificate along with a Masters in History.” None of which was a lie.
Matt studied her for a long moment, his scrutiny so direct it was almost physical. Kaitlin refused to look away, meeting his distrust with equally stubborn defiance.
“The society would need to establish guidelines, perhaps have one of our members oversee the initial assessment.”
“Of course,” Kaitlin agreed quickly.
Amy extended her hand to Kaitlin. “Amy York. I can’t thank you enough for offering your assistance. We’ll talk to see what I can do for you, if you are really willing to volunteer your time.”
Kaitlin shook her hand, feeling a momentary pang of guilt for her ulterior motives. Amy seemed genuinely kind. “Happy to help. When could I start?”
“Would you like to see the room now?” Amy asked. “It’s a mess down there, but the files seem mostly intact. Just dusty as hell. We can set up a better workspace for you up here… somewhere.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Kaitlin replied. The sooner she could access those records, the better. This wasn’t an inexpensive trip.
“I’ll come along,” Matt said. It wasn’t a suggestion. “I need to see if these records might be useful for law enforcement needs, once we have a better idea of what we are dealing with.”
Their eyes met again, and this time Kaitlin didn’t bother hiding her irritation.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Just doing my job, Ms. Mathews.”
“This way,” Amy called, clearly uncomfortable. “Watch your step on the stairs, they’re stone and pretty worn down in the middle.”
As they followed Amy and the contractor toward a door at the far end of the room, Kaitlin was acutely aware of Matt’s presence behind her, like an irritating itch between her shoulder blades. His distrust was palpable, and while part of her recognized it was justified, he still grated on her nerves.
The staircase descended into darkness, lit only by the contractor’s powerful flashlight and the ambient glow from above. The air grew cooler with each step, mixed with the unmistakable scent of old paper and mildew.
