“We were right.”
“The inner wall.”
Ellis tapped it.
“Somebody wanted this protected.”
That night, Eli barely slept.
At school Wednesday, he missed half of what his teacher said.
His notebook filled with sketches of the safe.
Cross sections.
Possible chamber shapes.
Measurements.
When classes ended, he rode the bus home and ran directly to the barn.
Ellis was already there.
“You eat anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Eli paused.
Ellis pointed toward the farmhouse.
“Kitchen first.”
By Wednesday evening, they had opened enough of the reinforced section to see behind it.
At first, there appeared to be nothing.
Only dark empty space.
Eli stared.
His stomach dropped.
Forty dollars.
Three evenings.
Cutting wheels.
Hours of labor.
Nothing.
Calvin had been right.
Eight hundred pounds of junk.
Ellis did not react.
He shined the flashlight deeper.
“Don't decide yet.”
“There's nothing there.”