Found and Lost by Amanda G. Stevens Page B

ripple of surprise and relief. And Belinda didn’t need a name to become a person. Her compassionate smile and Southern twang loosened the knot of fear inside. Violet could think more clearly now. Observe. Gather evidence.
    The hallway Belinda led them down was narrow and ridiculously long, with rooms on either side. This house must have more than a dozen guestrooms.
    â€œYou’ll sleep in here.” Belinda motioned them ahead of her, into a room with ivory walls, two twin beds, and two old oak dressers. All the furniture looked to be about a hundred years old.
    Someone had stenciled blue and red flowers over one wall, as well as a border around the whole room. Khloe reached out to trace the petals. Even when hiding from the Constabulary, she couldn’t lose her artistic self for long. She stepped closer to a floral painting on the far wall, probably analyzing its use of light or color or something.
    â€œYou’ll want to sleep soon, but first things first.” Belinda opened a walk-in closet and turned on the light. “Pretty sure this room’s got both your sizes.”
    Someone had installed shelves on two of the closet’s paneled walls, and stacks of clothing filled most of them. Violet picked up the nearest pair of jeans and unfolded them. Size five.
    â€œWhere did all this stuff come from?” Khloe’s voice drifted over Violet’s shoulder. She stepped around Violet to paw through a pile of bright T-shirts.
    â€œResale stores, clearance racks,” Belinda said. “There’s been a collection going for a few months now.”
    â€œYou take money from people?”
    Belinda’s laugh was too loud for the small closet. “My heavens, no. My husband and I pick up things when we can. Marcus does, too. But most of it’s from someone else.”
    â€œA resistance fighter like you?” Was that admiration in Khloe’s voice? Surely she couldn’t be won over with a closetful of hand-me-downs. But she browsed as if she were at the mall, slow steps from one shelf to another, touching every piece of fabric in sight.
    Khloe, these people are not all as safe as your dad.
    â€œDon’t know that I count as a fighter. I’m just a hostess. But yes, from someone like me. She’s well-off and wanted to use that somehow, toward the cause. Most of my closets are stocked like this one.”
    Khloe held up a hot pink shirt and tilted her head at the graphic, a blue tree with branches spreading up to the neck.
    â€œOnce you’re changed, you looking for bed or breakfast?”
    â€œBed,” Khloe said.
    Yes. They needed to talk, and not in this woman’s hearing. “Bed sounds good.”
    â€œOne last thing.” Belinda hefted about half a pile of sheets and quilts and moved them to the other side of the closet. She shoved the rest of the pile aside as well with a soft grunt. “Now where is it …?”
    Her fingers ran along the paneling. She pushed with the heel of her hand, then sat back a moment on her heels, lightly panting.
    â€œDarn that man and his precautions, I can’t even find it myself.”
    â€œFind what?” Khloe crouched beside her.
    â€œIt’s right here. Used to have a little knob to pull, but Marcus took it off and reset the door so it opens to the inside and … well, shoot, where …?”
    Her fingernail lodged in a seam between two panels, and a low door swung into the wall. Khloe gasped.
    â€œNow, girls, we’ve never had a Constabulary agent search this house. Never even seen a squad car on our road. But if something ever happens, you hide here until someone tells you the coast’s clear. Flashlights in there, water and snacks, not much elbow room, but you’d both fit easy.”
    Khloe brushed her hand along the paneling. “This is the coolest house in the world.”
    Violet folded her arms to keep from shaking some sense into Khloe while this Christian lady