Joanna turned to her grandfather, who strode forward with purpose. She followed him a short distance into a vast circular space within a ring of tall tangled rosebushes—alive, but not by any means thriving.
“Yes. This is the place,” he said, entranced as he moved toward the concrete bench, where he slowly sat down. He looked around and let his gaze wander.
Joanna—wanting to give him some time alone to reminisce—stood with Garrett outside the garden entrance. Overhead, the sun began to gently penetrate the fog, and Joanna felt its warmth on her face. She closed her eyes and tipped her face upward for a few seconds. When she opened them, she was caught up again in Garrett’s steady gaze.
“The sun should burn this fog away by noon,” he told her.
“I suppose that’s good news,” she replied, “that the weather won’t keep us here another day.”
“I wouldn’t mind if it did.” Garrett gave her a look.
Joanna allowed the corners of her mouth to curl up in a grin, which was an unambiguous flirtation. “I wouldn’t mind if it did either.”
Suddenly, her grandfather burst out of the rose garden, his expression drawn with tension. He spoke in a clipped tone. “I need to see the old superintendent’s residence.”
He strode past them as if he were late for an appointment, without waiting for them to respond.
“Wait, Grandad!” Joanna called after him. “What are you on about?”
Garrett hurried to follow. “That house is off limits to visitors!” he shouted. “It’s not safe to go inside, but we can certainly take a look from afar!”
Oliver marched on while she and Garrett scrambled to keep up.
“Hold on, Oliver!” Garrett shouted. “You can’t go in there! The structure’s not sound!”
Joanna halted as she watched her grandfather climb a steep dune toward a rooftop, where three gabled dormer windows poked out of the sand. The shingles were severely weathered and rotting, and the rest of the house was buried in the drift.
“I just need to have a look!” Oliver shouted over his shoulder as he climbed through a window where the glass was blown out.
Fighting panic, Joanna scrambled up the side of the dune. “Grandad! Don’t do that!”
“Oliver, stop!” Garrett reached the window ahead of her and peered inside. “Captain Harris!”
Joanna arrived, out of breath, and grabbed hold of Garrett’s arm to keep her balance. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He’s not answering.” Garrett swung one leg over the windowsill and stepped into what appeared to be a second-storybedroom, where a rusty bed frame remained. He took a penlight out of his jacket pocket and switched it on.
“Stay here, and don’t follow me,” he said. Then he reached into his other pocket for his keys and handed them to her. “If anything happens—like if the roof collapses—run as fast as you can to the Jeep and get help.”
“Are you serious?” she asked, horrified.
“Yes.” He moved carefully across the bedroom to an open doorway and shone his light into the hall.
“What do you see?” Joanna asked, leaning in.
“It’s dark, but the stairs are clear.” Garrett disappeared beyond the door. “Oliver, where are you?”
She heard her grandfather reply. “Down here!”
“I’m coming down the stairs,” Garrett told him.
“Please be careful!” Joanna called out as she bent over the windowsill and felt the chill of the interior on her face. It was like a winter cave in there.
She waited anxiously for another update but heard only the muffled sounds of Garrett speaking to her grandfather from somewhere inside the subterranean floor. Then she heard a few hard whacks like a hammer.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re looking for something in the kitchen!” Garrett shouted.
