As she penned the last word of her poem her brother leaped off the bed. "The secret bell," he whispered, face ashen. "Hide "She slid open the trap door in the false bedframe and quickly crawled in. He crouched next to the bed and handed her the warm blanket he had been lying on. She grabbed it and scooted over the rough planks. The box's narrow space was like a coffin-suffocating and dark.A floorboard squeaked. She couldn't see the heavy studded boots that clomped over the wooden floor but she knew her brother could see a shadow through the slats. Her hands shook so she held them close to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. Holding her breath didn't stop the tears from seeping out of the corners of her eyes. Would the made bed fool the officer? When Annaliese VanLuyk discovers a hidden doily and a mysterious poem dating back to World War II she realizes they aren't the only hidden secrets...
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