The engine came closer, roared, then cut off. A heavy metal door slammed. Anna sat in the dark with her lips pressed tight. She heard the porch steps creak. Then a young male voice, confident and unfamiliar.
“Morning, Mike.”
“Morning, Victor,” the warden answered calmly. “Come on in.”
Anna heard heavy footsteps. Men entered the cabin. The floor above her gave a little under their weight. She could make out the scrape of a stool, the sound of a belt being loosened. Then she heard something else.
A quick clicking of claws on the floorboards and the wet, heavy breathing of a dog. Anna shrank into herself. She gripped her own shoulders, trying to make herself smaller, to press into the dirt wall of the cellar.
“Down, Buck,” the inspector ordered. The clicking stopped, replaced by the heavy sigh of a dog lying down.
The inspection dragged on. Victor was thorough. He flipped through ledgers, rustled papers, asked about fur counts, poacher tracks, salt reserves for deer. Mike answered briefly and to the point.
Metal cups clinked. Mike was pouring coffee. Below, Anna barely breathed. The smell of raw earth and dust from the sacks made her nose itch. She clamped both hands over her mouth, pressing hard so she wouldn’t make a sound. Sweat ran down her temples in cold lines. Her leg muscles cramped from the position, but she didn’t dare move.
Then the dog stirred. Anna heard Buck get up. He paced the room. His steps came closer to the corner where the chest stood. The clicking stopped directly above her head.
Through a narrow crack between the boards, she saw the light blocked by a dark shape. Then came loud, rapid sniffing. The dog’s nose was pulling in every scent that slipped through the floor. He had caught something.
Buck let out a low growl. Then came the scrape of claws on wood. The dog began digging at the floor. Dirt and wood dust sifted through the cracks onto Anna’s face. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands harder over her mouth. Her pulse hammered in her temples.
Upstairs, a heavy silence fell. The conversation stopped. A stool scraped back.
“Mike,” Victor said, and his voice had lost its casual tone. “Buck’s a working dog. He doesn’t start digging for no reason.”
Anna heard the inspector step closer to the corner. The dog growled louder, claws tearing at the thick plank.
“What are you hiding?” Victor asked.
Anna stopped breathing. Black spots swam before her eyes. This was it. He would order the chest moved. They would drag her out into the light, cuff her, haul her back to Saveliev and the frozen hell she had escaped. And Mike would go down with her. Years in prison because of her.
In the silence, Mike’s voice sounded almost bored. No strain. No panic. No rush to explain.
“Nothing worth your trouble, Vic.”
