It was the same shade I had seen in the missing person flyers posted at the local grocery store.

The girl was named Sarah.

She had gone missing three weeks ago, just four blocks from our house.

My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

I walked around the island.

My knees felt weak, like water.

I knelt on the cold hardwood floor.

I pressed my cheek against the wood, trying to look into the narrow gap beneath the baseboard.

It was too dark.

I reached into my pocket for my phone and turned on the flashlight.

The bright beam of light cut through the dust under the cabinet.

There was nothing there but clean, painted wood.

But then I saw the seam.

Two floorboards did not line up perfectly.

There was a tiny, brass hinge recessed into the wood, painted over to match the oak grain.

It was hidden so well that I would have never seen it if I had not been looking for it.

A hidden compartment.

Right under my feet while I chopped vegetables and tested recipes.

My phone buzzed in my hand, startling me.