Greg gave Esme a curious look. Truth be told, he couldn’t say he knew Jacqueline enough to know what she was like when she was on drugs. Or even if she took them. For all the time they’d lived under the same roof, Greg barely knew anything about her. It gave him a odd, tight feeling in his chest and he frowned.
“I’m sure both Jacqueline and your friend are fine,” he said sympathetically, resting his hand briefly on her arm in reassurance. “There can’t be that much trouble to get into down here. And if there is, and they’re in it, we can go help them and we can hold it over their heads for the rest of their lives.”
He nodded towards one of the tunnels. “Come on, might as well get started. That’s the last direction I saw Jacqueline head in.”
A laugh bubbled up at Gregoire’s words, and Esme felt immediately relieved. He was right, of course, there was nothing down here but dust and bones, and a few empty plastic cups. Their friends were probably long gone from here, or lost. And the idea of holding this over their heads was mighty amusing.
“Seems about as good as any other direction. Should we leave breadcrumbs you think?” Esme joked, trying to keep the whole lightened mood they had going.
“I can see it now: hey, remember that time you got lost in the catacombs? And we saved your butts? Good times.” The tunnel was dark, so Esme took the lead, swinging her flashlight up and over the area in front of her. Most of the old dust had been disturbed by the party-goers.
