Lydia put aside the schedule of group tours that she was slated to escort through the museum that week and reached for the phone. “This is Jan Ross,” a perky voice said on the other end of the line. “I understand you’ve been trying to get in touch with me?” “Yes, thank you so much for returning my call.” Lydia quickly opened her top desk drawer and took out the copy of the newspaper story she had found inside Lawrence Maltby’s milk carton. “I’m trying to get some information about a former student. His name is Troy Burgis. According to a newspaper account that I came across, he disappeared in the course of an unauthorized trip into the catacombs about fifteen years ago.” “I see. I don’t recall the name but unfortunately there have been a few such incidents over the years. The college does its best to protect the students but you know how it is. Sometimes the fraternities get carried away with their initiation rites or a group of young people get drunk and decide to go underground through a hole-in-the-wall.
