We all walked toward him and peered over his shoulder. The day planner was open, and his finger traced the names and numbers written next to each name. “Do you think it’s a clue?”
“Could be.” I squinted to read the text better.
Mr. Rochester 2:18
Pip 1:32
Pequod 1:78
Amelia 1:40
“Maybe the number corresponds with time?” Sydney suggested.
“Not time.” My heart picked up speed. I knew what this was. “Look at the numbers next to Pequod. There is no one seventy-eight hour. And all these names, I know what they are.” I snatched the book off the desk and sprinted toward the bookcase. “They’re characters from books, and what looks like time has to be page numbers. Mr. Rochester is inJane Eyreby Emily Brontë. Pip is a character inGreat Expectations.Pequodwas the name of Captain Ahab’s ship inMoby Dick.”
By this time all four of us were scouring the bookshelves looking for the right titles.
“Here!” Sydney held a hard-cover copy ofJane Eyreover her head.
We scrambled to her side and waited in anticipation as she shuffled through the pages. Her finger jabbed at page 218. Silence hung in the room as we scanned the page, looking for some clue to jump out at us.
Nothing.
“There’s nothing here,” Sydney said.
Maybe Sydney could be my life narrator. She was good at voicing my thoughts.
Disappointment shaved off the edge of my excitement, but I wasn’t giving up. “Maybe it’s only part of the clue. There could be a second part we need to unlock it.” I went back to the desk and opened up the drawers lining the right side. At the back of the bottom drawer, an object slid around. My ears perked, and I reached a hand back, grasped the object, and pulled it out.
Landon reached out and took the wooden box from my grip. “It’s a Chinese puzzle box. You shift the pieces around to reveal a hidden compartment within. There has to be a clue in here somewhere.” The pad of his thumb turned white as he applied pressure to one end of the box. It shifted, and a piece fell away.
Sydney grabbed my elbow and tugged. “Come on. We’ll search the other side of the room for more clues while the boys work on getting that thing open.”
I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay and see what was inside. But the guys would call us back when it was open, so it made sense for Sydney and me to keep looking. I followed her to the geometric paintings and mimicked her motion of moving the artwork aside to see if there was anything hidden behind it.
“I wanted to ask you,” Sydney whispered without looking at me. “Tate. Are you and he…”
Are we what?
Oh! “Were just friends.”
She turned her attention to me then, her blue eyes sparkling. “Really.” She stole a glance Tate’s direction. “Do you think maybe he’d be interested? In me, I mean?”
Umm… What should I say to that? Tate and I were friends, but we didn’t talk about our love lives. Mostly because mine was nonexistent, and his…well, he had his groupies. Would he be interested in Sydney? Why not? She was nice. Pretty. Smart. What guy wouldn’t go for someone like her?
But acid hit my stomach, and I had to bite back a wave of nausea as I smiled and said. “Sure. Go for it.” The territorial feeling that overpowered me as I thought about Sydney and Tate together made me want to bring out my claws and scratch her unmarred complexion. I had never been catty before in my life, and I didn’t like the unpleasant feeling now.
“Got it!”
I swung around to the guys, grateful for something to focus on besides my unhealthy possessiveness.
Landon unrolled a piece of paper. “It’s a line of shapes. Triangle, circle, square, square.”
Tate looked beyond me, and I turned.
“The paintings!” we shouted in unison.
Tate rounded the desk and jogged toward Sydney and me.
