Third Half by P. R. Garlick Page A

for would be on the upper floor of the house.   Her only access would be from the floor below.
                  Remembering the game she and Jack used to play, she counted the number of steps it took to cross the rooms on the second floor before going up the next flight of stairs to do the same.
                  "I knew it!" she cheered with a glowing smile.  The bedroom on the upper floor was smaller by nearly two feet.  She had no doubt that the bedroom next door was also two feet smaller than the room below it.  She doubted that anyone would ever have noticed unless they were specifically looking for the discrepancy.
                  She hurried toward the stairs, anxious to search for the entrance to the secret room.  She knew that entrance would be hidden somewhere in the ceiling.  She stopped as she heard the sound of a car driving in the gravel lane.
                  "Oh Ronaldo, I said not to come in the lane."  She groaned as she rushed toward the window to look outside.
                  She was even more distraught when she realized the sound had not come from Ronaldo.   Two men were getting out of a car in front of the house.  If she didn't hurry, she'd have to face them and their possible questions.  After everything that had taken place in the last few days, even dressed as Mary Catherine, she doubted any confrontation would be a pleasant one.
                  She quietly slipped down the stairs, not stopping as she heard the wooden thud of the front door forced open.  From the room she could hear the men commenting about the lights being turned on.  She silently prayed they wouldn't come upstairs to see if anyone was home.
                  She felt her heart beating frantically as she looked up to see if any of the ceiling tiles along the center wall looked different from the others.  None did.  She'd have to try them all! 
                  Loud banging came from the rooms below, leaving her no doubt of the need to hurry.  She searched for something to stand on.  Whoever is downstairs, they're looking for something.  And I don't think I should be what they find!
                  Her eyes stopped suddenly on the sturdy oak dresser in the corner of the room.  A closer examination revealed the shape of a footprint in the dust.  She had no time to wonder whose it was.  The voices from downstairs were growing louder and she knew she had very little time left before they'd come upstairs and find her.
                  Quickly she climbed onto the dresser, knowing that if they came into the room now, all would be lost.  She'd be caught! – and it would take only a moment for them to figure out why she was standing on top of a piece of furniture.
                  Checking the two tiles above the dresser, she found that neither revealed an entrance to the upstairs room.  It has to be here!  As carefully as her nervous fingers would function she replaced them so no one would discover they had been moved and possibly investigate to see why.
                  Jack was taller than she by at least four inches.  He could easily reach the next tile.  Stretching as far as she could, Liane hoped this one would unveil the secret entrance. 
                  Pushing the tile up from its frame, she saw the opening in the ceiling above.  There was a heavy cord hanging just inside.  She gave it a tug and a retractable rope ladder dropped down before her.  Her memory flashed back to similar one they used to climb as children to get into their tree house.
                  You think of everything, Jack, she thought as she struggled to climb through the tiny opening.  It wasn't as easy as it had been when she was a child, especially when hampered wearing Mary Catherine's attire.  The rope seemed to twist and turn with every move, and hurrying wasn't helping