Free Blindfold by Diane Hoh Page A

Keith, Chantilly Beckwith, and two of then-friends, right before they descended into that basement. That meant the nasty little quartet knew for a fact that six members of the peer jury, which the quartet had reason to loathe, were down there. Chantilly might look like a twig, but James and his friends were stocky and sturdy, built like bulldogs. Any one of them alone could have knocked that beam silly.
    Could four other people have entered that corridor without Maggie and her friends hearing footsteps or breathing or the rustling of clothing . . . something, anything that would clue them in to the presence of others?
    Yes, absolutely, Maggie decided, because I was kicking up such a racket, ranting and raving about being locked in that awful little room. And the quick shove or kick to the beam would only have taken a second or two. One quick shove from bulky shoulders, and down goes the beam.
    But...
    "No," she said suddenly, as if she'd been thinking aloud, "it didn't happen the way the sheriff
    said, because where would the person or persons have gone after they knocked the beam down? We couldn't get out. So how could they?"
    "Oh, that's easy," Scout answered. "All they would have had to do was dart around a corner and hide in one of the other passageways until dark. Couple of hours, that's all. Then leave either by the coal chute, or if the mess was cleaned up by then, go back up the stairs and out of the building. I mean, we could have done that, too, but we weren't willing to wait. You weren't," he reminded Maggie.
    They fell silent again, then Helen said, "I think saving that building would be a big mistake. I think the Bransoms would rather we tore it down. That's what they'd want. That's what they wanted the first time, when Felicity turned their home into a jail. Remember the newspaper articles at the WOH offices, telling how Otis and his wife, Amelia, were so furious when the city took their home for unpaid back taxes and then turned it into a jail? They were both in their nineties then, and in the same nursing home, but they were so angry that criminals were going to be housed in the home they'd lived in forever and raised their kids in." Her voice lowered. "Some people in town say the two of them still wander the halls of the old courthouse. Maybe the renovations would make them even madder."
    "We can't make them mad, Helen." Alex's voice was as quiet as Helen's, but firm. "They're dead. You can't make dead people mad."
    Maggie wondered if he was thinking about his father. Maybe thinking that because his father was
    dead, Alex himself had to be mad for him, at the city officials who had treated Mr. Goodman so shabbily.
    The van pulled up the steep driveway, stopped, and Lane and Whit jumped out. They were laughing.
    Oh, goodie, they had a nice time, Maggie thought, slinking lower on the swing. I do so love it when my friends get along well. When they ran up onto the porch, she flashed a brilliant smile at them and said sweetly, "Thank you both so much. It was so nice of you to go to all that trouble."
    "No trouble," Whit said easily, taking a seat on the steps. "You feeling okay? How's the arm?"
    Lane was beside him in seconds.
    'The arm is fine. But you must have had some trouble," Maggie continued in that same innocent voice. "It usually only takes four minutes to drive here from school. Did you run into a detour or something? An accident?"
    Lane shot her a suspicious glance. "Actually, we ran into your mom. She was at the van, looking for you. Someone at the courthouse told her you were involved in the collapse, and she freaked. Went to the hospital, you weren't there, so she was on her way here when she spotted the van. I think we convinced her that you weren't at death's door. She wanted to know what we were doing down there, and she said it was a good thing you'd already delivered those plans in the morning, because if she thought it was her fault you were in there, she'd never have forgiven herself."
    Maggie