“When we find the key,” Jameson said, his voice coming out thick, “we’ll celebrate.”
“We’ll celebrate,” Avery Kylie Grambs told him, well aware of her effect on him, “when we find all three.”
Every step down seemed a little steeper than the last. Jameson’s battered body screamed its objections, but he ignored it. Luckily, balance and ignoring pain were almost as much Jameson’s specialty as taking risks, and Avery was made for this.
Made for him.
He leapt over the last few steps, landing on the beach. She did the same. From where they stood now, several things were clear. The beach was narrow, more gravel than sand. The tide was currently low. A handful of caves were visible from where they stood, but there were almost certainly more—potentially dozens.
“Where to now?” Avery said, and Jameson knew she was thinking aloud more than asking, that her mind was working through this as quickly and methodically as any Hawthorne’s.
This time, he happened to get to the answer first. “There.” Jameson’s eyes locked on to a stone statue in the distance. It stood near the edge of the beach, and he knew that in higher tide, it would be partially—but not fully—submerged.
They ran toward it, because running seemed like the only option. Wind whipped at them. Avery’s hair went wild, but it didn’t slow her down. Neither of them slowed at all until they made it to the base of the statue.
Jameson took one look at it and registered one thing: the statue depicted a woman. He turned to Avery. “Ladies first.”
CHAPTER 61
JAMESON
The statue might have been of a real person or a mythological figure or an image pulled from the sculptor’s imagination. Her hair was long and wavy and thick, caught in what looked like a slight wind. She wore a dress. The cut of the dress was simple at the top, almost like a shift, but near the base of the statue, the fabric became waves, like the woman was clothed in the ocean itself. Her bare feet were visible where the waves parted, her stance calling to mind a dancer. Three stone necklaces adorned her neck, the shortest a choker, the longest hanging nearly to her waist. Dozens of bracelets marked each wrist; her shoulders and forearms were partially covered by her hair. One hand hung by her side, and the other pointed out into the ocean.
Ladies first. Jameson considered the clue, then turned away from the statue to assess the rest of their surroundings. In the immediate vicinity, he counted five caves.
Smugglers’ caves. But which one held the key?
Forget the caves for a second. Focus on the Lady. Jameson examined the ground beneath the statue, followed the direction she was pointing out to sea. And then, with a paranoia born of Saturday mornings and games where his brothers might swoop in at any second, Jameson looked back to the staircase carved into the cliff.
And he saw a woman in a white pantsuit descending.
“Katharine,” he told Avery. If thoroughly searching the caves one by one had been an option before, it wasn’t now. Moving on instinct, he waded out into the ocean, searching. The Lady’s pointing out here.
Rohan could have weighted down a bag or anchored something to a rock beneath the water’s surface.
Jameson bent to submerge his hands in the shallows and came up empty, again and again. There was no time to second-guess. No time to wait. Katharine had an inside track on this place. She might know if there was a particular cave that was suited for hiding treasure.
Ladies first.
She’s pointing out here.
“But what if she wasn’t?” Jameson asked. Before Avery could respond, he was running through the water back toward the statue. Avery was kneeling in the sand, examining its base. And then, just as Jameson arrived at her side, she looked up.
“I think the statue turns.”
Jameson could hear it in her voice, that thing that whispered we’re the same, that said she’d never back down from a challenge, that there was nothing her mind couldn’t do.
“Together,” Jameson said, and as in sync as they had been with the gate, they threw their weight into turning the Lady. The statue moved, and after a second or two, they reached a point of resistance. The statue came to a stop, as if locked into place, and a chiming sound emanated from the statue.
Bells. Rohan had set the game to start with the ringing of bells.
Jameson’s mind raced. He looked up—to the Lady’s finger. She was still pointing out to the water.
“Five,” Avery said beside him. “There were five bells that time.”
And suddenly, Jameson’s knew. Ladies first.