“Dig here.”
CHAPTER 73
My arms were aching by the time the ground caved in, revealing a chamber below—part of the tunnels, but not a part I’d ever seen.
Before I could say a word, Jameson leapt into the darkness.
I lowered myself down more cautiously, landing beside him in a crouch.
I stood, shining the light from my phone. The chamber was small—and empty.
No body.
I scanned the walls and saw a torch. Latching my fingers around the torch, I tried to pull it from the wall, to no avail. I let my fingers explore the metal sconce that held the torch in place. “There’s a hinge back here,” I said. “Or something like it. I think it rotates”
Jameson placed his hand over mine, and together we twisted the torch sideways. There was a scraping sound and then a hiss, and the torch burst into flame.
Jameson didn’t let go, and neither did I.
We pulled the flaming torch from the sconce, and as the flame came close to the wall’s surface, words lit up in Toby’s writing.
“I was never a Hawthorne,” I read out loud. Jameson let his hand fall to his side, until I was the only one holding the torch. Slowly, I walked the perimeter of the room. The flame revealed words on each wall.
I was never a Hawthorne.
I will never be a Blake.
So what does that make me?
I saw the message on the final wall, and my heart contracted. Complicit.
“Try the floor,” Jameson told me.
I brought the torch low, careful of the flame, and one final message lit up. Try again, Father.
The body wasn’t here.
It had never been here.
A light shone down from up above. Mr. Laughlin. He helped us out of the chamber, silent the whole time, his expression absolutely unreadable, right up to the point that I tried to step from the center back into the maze, and he moved to stand right in front of me.
Blocking me.
“I heard about Alisa.” The groundskeeper’s voice was always gruff, but the visible sorrow in his eyes was new. “The kind of man who would take a woman—he’s no man at all.” He paused. “Nash came to me,” he said haltingly. “He asked me for help, and that boy wouldn’t even let you help tie his shoes as a toddler.”
“You know where Will Blake’s remains are,” I said, giving voice to the realization as it dawned on me. “That’s why Nash went to you and asked you for help.”
Mr. Laughlin forced himself to look at me. “Some things are best left buried.”
I wasn’t about to accept that. I couldn’t. Anger snaked through me, burning in my veins. At Vincent Blake and Tobias Hawthorne and this man who was supposed to work for me but would always put the Hawthorne family first.
“I’ll raze this entire thing to the ground,” I swore. Some situations required a scalpel, but this? Bring on the chain saws. “I’ll hire men to tear this maze apart. I’ll bring out cadaver dogs. I will burn it all down to get Alisa back.”
Mr. Laughlin’s body trembled. “You have no right.”
“Grandpa.”
He turned, and Rebecca stepped into view. Thea and Xander followed, but Mr. Laughlin barely noticed them. “This isn’t right,” he told Rebecca. “I made promises—to myself, to your mother, to Mr. Hawthorne.”
If I’d had any doubts that the groundskeeper knew where the body was, that statement erased them. “Vincent Blake has Toby, too,” I said. “Not just Alisa. Don’t you want your grandson back?”