Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (54 page)

Genny wasn't so sure. “Do you see anything odd about the wood?” she asked, stepping over another

coil of rope as her vision followed the planking.

“No,” he told her. He held the lantern a bit higher. “I don't see anything odd. It's flat. What else should it

be?"

“We didn't find anything but unsalvageable cargo,” Patrick told them as he and Mr. Tarnes joined them.

“Nothing that could have made the sounds you heard."

“We may have found something, Paddy,” Genny said.

Weir rolled his eyes, looked at Patrick. “Little miss know-it-all thinks there's something odd about the

bulkhead."

Genny stooped down, touched her hand to the horizontal planking covering of the bulkhead, tapped on

the wood. There was a hollow sound. She looked over her shoulder at her brother. “There's something

behind this wall."

Patrick eased around Tarnes and hunkered down beside Genny. He rapped on the planking and

gagged. “Mother of Alel!” he gasped. “Whatever that smell is, it's coming from behind here.” He turned

his head away and gathered a mouthful of saliva and then spat, hoping to exorcise the bile riding up his

gullet.

“Is there a latch of some sort on this wall, Paddy?” Genny asked, running her hands over the wood.

Reluctant to even touch the wood concealing such a foul odor, Patrick nevertheless put his hands on the

planking and felt, wincing at the feel of the slick wood beneath his flesh. His fingers touched something

cold, stopped, went back, and fumbled until the smooth expanse of metal ran under his fingertips.

“Here! Weir, hold that lantern closer!"

Bending forward, Weir Saur thrust his lantern close to his friend's shoulder and caught sight of the iron

bolt set into the wood. He watched keenly as Patrick threw the bolt back.

“Where's the handle?” Genny asked, seeing none.

“Inside spring lock,” Patrick told them as he pushed on the door to release it.

“Holy ghost!” Tarnes gasped, reeling from the stench, which shot out from behind the moving panel.

Genny thought she would vomit as the smell assailed her. She crabwalked back from the door as Patrick

pulled it further open.

A hollow sound, a rusty sound that moved from behind the panel and the four froze.

“There's something there,” Tarnes warned.

A pitiful sound, a human sound, seeped from behind the panel. It was a groan, a cry for help.

“There's a man in there!” Weir whispered as the lantern light from Tarnes’ hand fell partially into the

hidden area behind the planking.

Patrick looked up. “No, there are two."

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Charlee is the author of thirteen books, the first nine of which are the WindLegend Saga. She is a

member of the Romance Writers of America, the HTML Writer's Guild, and Beta Sigma Phi Sorority.

Married thirty-two years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is the mother of two grown sons, Pete

and Mike, and the proud grandmother of Preston Alexander and Victoria Ashlee.

A native of Sarasota, Florida, she grew up in Colquitt and Albany, Georgia and now lives in the

Midwest. Currently, she is at work on a new book.

Visit Charlee's web site: http://www.windlegends.com/

Visit www.twilighttimesbooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.