I’d learned my lesson with Jameson, but this felt different. Like Grayson wanted to be the one to save me. Like heneededto be the one.
I lifted my hand to the collar of my shirt. I pulled it downward—below my collarbone, exposing my wound.
Grayson lifted his hand toward my shoulder. “I am sorry that this happened to you.”
“Do you know who shot at me?” I had to ask, because he’d apologized—and Grayson Hawthorne was not the type to apologize.If he knew…
“No,” Grayson swore.
I believed him—or at least I wanted to. “If I leave Hawthorne House before the year is up, the money goes to charity. If I die, it goes to charity or my heirs.” I paused. “If I die, the foundation goes to the four of you.”
He had to know how that looked.
“My grandfather should have left it to us all along.” Grayson turned his head, forcefully pulling his gaze from my skin. “Or to Zara. We were raised to make a difference, and you…”
“I’m nobody,” I finished, the words hurting me to say.
Grayson shook his head. “I don’t know what you are.” Even in the minimal light of our flashlights, I could see his chest rising and falling with every breath.
“Do you think Jameson’s right?” I asked him. “Does this puzzle of your grandfather’s end with answers?”
“It ends withsomething. The old man’s games always do.” Grayson paused. “How many of the numbers do you have?”
“Two,” I replied.
“Same,” he told me. “I’m missing this one and Xander’s.”
I frowned. “Xander’s?”
“Blackwood. It’s Xander’s middle name. The West Brook was Nash’s clue. The Winchester was Jameson’s.”
I looked back toward the desk. “And the Davenport is yours.”
He closed his eyes. “After you, Heiress.”
His use of Jameson’s nickname for me felt like it meant something, but I wasn’t sure what. I turned my attention to the task at hand. The desk was made of a bronze-colored wood. Four drawers ran perpendicular to the desktop. I tested them one at a time. Empty. I ran my right hand along the inside of the drawers, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.
Feeling Grayson’s presence beside me, knowing that I was being watched and judged, I moved on to the top of the desk, raising it up to reveal the compartment underneath. Empty again. As I had with drawers, I ran my fingers along the bottom and sides of the compartment. I felt a slight ridge along the right side. Eyeballing the desk, I estimated the width of the border to be an inch and a half, maybe two inches.
Just wide enough for a hidden compartment.
Unsure how to trigger its release, I ran my hand back over the place where I’d felt the ridge. Maybe it was just a seam, where two pieces of wood met.Or maybe…I pressed the wood in, hard, and it popped outward. I closed my fingers around the block that had just released and pulled it away from the desk, revealing a small opening. Inside was a keychain, with no key.
The keychain was plastic, in the shape of the number one.
CHAPTER 66
Eight. One. One.
I slept in Libby’s room again that night. She didn’t. I asked Oren to confirm with her security team that she was okay and on the premises.
She was—but he didn’t tell me where.
No Libby. No Max.I was alone—more alone than I’d been since I got here.No Jameson.I hadn’t seen him since he’d left that morning.No Grayson.He hadn’t lingered with me for long after we’d discovered the clue.
One. One. Eight.That was all I had to concentrate on. Three numbers, which confirmed for me that Toby’s tree in the Black Wood had just been a tree. If there was a fourth number, it was still out there. Based on the keychain, the clue in the Black Wood could appear in any format, not just a carving.
Late into the night and nearly asleep, I heard something like footsteps.Behind me? Below?The wind whistled outside my window. Gunshots lurked in my memory. I had no idea what was lurking in the walls.
