The dark hides the ever-present Potomac River but the loud rush of it reminds me that no matter what’s happening inside that weird party, I’m still standing on solid earth.
One week of living in Kwame’s world has been enough to last me a lifetime. No wonder he left.
Restless and desperate to put distance between myself and this house, I take the short flight of steps and follow the labyrinth-like walkway that leads around the pool area and ends where it meets seemingly endless lawn.
In the distance, I see the windowless white clapboard building they call the lodge. It doesn’t look like it’s under construction.
I look around to make sure I’m alone, slip off my heels, and head for the structure I was told is off limits.
Closer inspection reveals it to be repurposed shipping containers stacked two high. I approach the door and press my ear to it. I don’t hear a thing.
I try the handle and almost squeal when it disengages. I open it and wince at the white light that pours out. I step inside and pull the door closed behind me and turn in a circle to take in the space.
White paneled walls are lined with tribal masks, iron tipped spears, gold adorned carvings of gleaming mahogany, and large ivory tusks. Irecognize several pieces from the stolen artifacts database. The length of the room is columned by enormous floor-to-ceiling shelving.
Before I can process that fully, a young dark-skinned woman with waist-length goddess braids dressed in a black jeans and white tank top steps out from behind a row of shelves.
“What are you doing here?”
I stop dead. Shocked to see Violet staring at me, her eyes are wide with terror. She looks to the door and then back at me. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” I put my hands up. “What are you doing here?” My heart is beating so fast, I’m lightheaded. “Are you with Oz again?”
“You can’t be in here. You’re going to get in trouble. You should leave.”
“Come with me.”
She shakes her head violently. “You need to leave.” She points at the door. “And then forget you ever came here. Go. Before someone realizes you’re here.” Her eyes are stark and wild.
“If you’re in trouble, I can help.”
The question seems to propel her backward and something that looks like panic is building in her eyes. “What?” She takes another step back. “No. I’m not in trouble. But if you don’t leave, I will be.”
I want to press her on it but can see that it would be futile. And it’s not important.
“Let me call for help.” I look at my screen and curse under my breath. “There’s no reception down here. We should go outside.”
“No. I can’t. Why are you even here?” she wails and waves a hand up and down her body.
“These things are stolen. Are you helping him?”
“No, I’m just trying to get what I’m owed. Get out of here.”
“Fine, I’ll go and call 9-1-1. They should know—”
Her eyes go wide. “Don’t call the police. They work for him.”
“Who is him? Ozwald or Al Palmer?”
She shakes her head, her eyes shuttering. “You should just leave.”
My heart skips a beat. I nod. “I’ll be right back. Wait here for me, please,” I say and step outside into the dark copse of trees surrounding the lodge. I fumble with my phone and text Kwame to tell him where I am. I hit send and then wonder if I should have. I hit unsend and put my phone’s flashlight on and head back to the main house.
I haven't taken two steps when a man's shadow crosses in front of me and then suddenly he's standing there. Oz, staring down at me looking every bit the villain that I now know he is. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Sixty-One
Kwame
