Police officers began speculating. “Smugglers?” one suggested. “Old Prohibition tunnels?” another guessed. Daniel shook his head. “The soil compaction is too loose. It hasn’t sat undisturbed for a century. Whoever did this started recently—and they knew what they were doing.” He didn’t say what else he was thinking: it was still active.
One officer lit a cigarette, nerves making his hands jitter. “So what, someone’s been digging under this guy’s house?” Daniel stayed quiet, but the thought made his chest tighten. It wasn’t just his house—it was his children’s backyard, their soccer field, their garden. Whatever was down there, it had come far too close.