They angled their flashlights toward the living room, and to James’ relief, that man still sat on the piano bench. Lenora’s light lingered on him too and the statue’s shadow on the opposite wall appeared to play the keys in the wavering light.
“Let’s finish this,” James whispered. They both flattened themselves against the opposing wall when they came to the painting and slipped into the kitchen.
He peered into the kitchen, which was long and narrow. To the right of the archway, moonlight fell through tattered curtains onto a small wooden table and two chairs that were half covered by a canvas sheet. When he looked the other way, he saw a squat, old-fashioned stove, with a bunch of handles and chipped green and white paint.
“That has to be the basement door, to the left of the stove,” Lenora said, pointing her flashlight to a white door.
For a moment neither of them moved, so James walked toward the door and Lenora followed. The door opened, but not without effort, and it made a loud, rasping sound. When he angled the light down the stairs, he saw the remains of a deep-red color on the steps.
“Does that look like fancy carpet to you?” he asked Lenora before they descended.
“Yeah, maybe, why?”
“It just seems strange to have nice carpet leading to a basement…I mean, especially back then.”
Lenora took a deep breath and pushed past him. “Let’s do this, James.” She raced down the steps, her sneakers clumping, and he awkwardly followed, trying not to trip.
The stairs ended in a long, dark hall, but they could see larger double doors at the end of it in their small circles of light. James’ hand accidentally brushed Lenora’s as they made their way forward.