His people—including Mellie.I watched Nash saunter off, then turned back to Oren. “You knew he would go talk to the staff.”
“I know they’ll talk to him,” Oren corrected. “And besides, you blew the element of surprise this morning.”
I’d told Grayson. He’d told his mother. Libby knew. “Sorry about that,” I said, then I turned to the room overhead. “I’m going up.”
“I didn’t see a desk up there,” Oren told me.
I walked over to the pole and grabbed hold. “I’m going up anyway.” I started to pull myself up, but the pain stopped me. Oren was right. I couldn’t climb. I stepped back from the pole, then glanced to my left.
If I couldn’t make it up the pole, it would have to be the slide.
The last library in Hawthorne House was small. The ceiling sloped to form a pyramid overhead. The shelves were plain and only came up to my waist. They were full of children’s books. Well-worn, well-loved, some of them familiar in a way that made me ache to sit and read.
But I didn’t, because as I stood there, I felt a breeze. It wasn’t coming from the window, which was closed. It came from the shelves on the back wall—no. As I walked closer, I discovered that it was coming from a crack between the two shelves.
There’s something back there.My heart caught like a breath stuck in my throat. Starting with the shelf on the right, I latched my fingers around the top of the shelf and pulled. I didn’t have to pull hard. The shelf was on a hinge. As I pulled, it rotated outward, revealing a small opening.
This was the first secret passage I’d discovered on my own. It was strangely exhilarating, like standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon or holding a priceless work of art in your hands. Heart pounding, I ducked through the opening and found a staircase.
Traps upon traps,I thought,and riddles upon riddles.
Gingerly, I walked down the steps. As I got farther from the light above, I had to pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight so I could see where I was going.I should go back for Oren.I knew that, but I was going faster now—down the steps, twisting, turning, until I reached the bottom.
There, holding a flashlight of his own, was Grayson Hawthorne.
He turned toward me. My heart beat viciously, but I didn’t step back. I looked past Grayson and saw the only piece of furniture on the landing of the hidden stairs.
A Davenport.
“Ms. Grambs.” Grayson greeted me, then turned back to the desk.
“Have you found it yet?” I asked him. “The Davenport clue?”
“I was waiting.”
I couldn’t quite read his tone. “For what?”
Grayson looked up from the desk, silver eyes catching mine in the dark. “Jameson, I suppose.”
It had been hours since Jameson had left for school, hours since I’d seen Grayson last. How long had he been here, waiting?
“It’s not like Jamie to miss the obvious. Whatever this game is, it’s about us. The four of us. Our names were the clues. Of course we would find something here.”
“At the bottom of this staircase?” I asked.
“In our wing,” Grayson replied. “We grew up here—Jameson, Xander, and me. Nash, too, I suppose, but he was older.”
I remembered Xander telling me that Jameson and Grayson used to team up to beat Nash to the finish line, then double-cross each other at the end of the game.
“Nash knows about the shooting,” I told Grayson. “I told him.” Grayson gave me a look I couldn’t quite discern. “What?” I said.
Grayson shook his head. “He’ll want to save you now.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” I asked.
Another look—and more emotion, heavily masked. “Will you show me where you were hurt?” Grayson asked, his voice not quite strained—butsomething.
He probably just wanted to see how bad it is, I told myself, but still, the request hit me like an electric shock. My limbs felt inexplicably heavy. I was keenly aware of every breath I took. This was a small space. We stood close to each other, close to the desk.
