“Nowhere, Delaney,” he said with an incredulous expression.
He was doubly annoying now. It’s like he didn’t even want to catch the killer.
“This is outrageous talk.” He started walking again. “I can’t believe we’re even having this discussion right now.”
“I agree.” We didn’t need to talk about it. “Trust my plan. They’ll never catch us.”
If things went well, no one would even know we were there. I wasn’t going to steal anything, just look at it.
Dane was worried about nothing. We’d go tonight, and I’d prove to him how this was the key to everything. He’d see.
“I’ll just go without my trusted bodyguard then.”
Walking beneath the Spanish moss-draped oaks with only moonlight to guide us felt like stepping into a dream where you didn’t want to wake up. The branches arched overhead, heavy with moss. My research said it took over two centuries for the trees to grow big enough to overlap the road as they did now.
“There’s still time to turn back,” Dane said as we crossed the street and entered the area of the Spanish-moss-filled oaks in front of Boone Hall.
Moonlight filtered through patches of the moss, casting shadows on the path we took. The air grew thick with humidity, damp earth, and flowers. It was beautiful, peaceful, and haunting.
I lifted my index finger to my lips and gave him a look. We needed silence on this mission. I’d picked a direct approach, hoping the brazen part of it hid our intentions. We’d sneak down the row of oaks and break into the administration building behind the main plantation home. There we’d find the records room—it wasn’t on any map, but they had to have employee files somewhere—find the hiring records and see who was on the research team and their hire dates.
Perfect.
“Believe it or not, Delaney,” he said, not worried about the volume of his voice. “I’d rather be on one of your haunted walking tours right now.”
“Shhh.”
I knew he liked those tours way more than he admitted.
We walked in silence for a minute, using the large, overbearing oaks as cover. They were kind of creepy this late at night. The wind blew the Spanish moss gently, making the hanging pieces remind me of the legs of an octopus. A few more inches and they’d be able to reach down and grab us.
“Did your guy cut the cameras?” I asked Dane as we approached the end of the road. The crunch of gravel under our feet was the only sound between us as we walked side-by-side beneath the towering oaks.
He halted. “No. What?”
I turned around and walked back to him. “Your guy. The resources you have.”
“You told me there were no cameras.”
“Yeah.” I threw my hands up. “Because you said your guy could cut cameras.”
Dane’s eyes widened. “Delaney, you’d have to tell me there were cameras to cut first.”
“How would I know if and where they have cameras?” Oh, shit.
This was not good.
Adrenaline flooded my system, and my mind raced. This much anxiety couldn’t be good for me. How did criminals deal with it?
“I can’t believe you didn’t get the cameras cut,” I whisper-shouted at him. Did we turn around or keep going and risk an arrest? “What are the odds they have cameras?”
“I can’t believe you’re blaming this on me,” he said with his arms crossed and a pissed-off expression. “And they definitely have cameras. It’s a famous historical landmark.”
Whatever. I rolled my eyes. “Who wants to break into a museum?”
“Us, apparently!”
“Shhh,” I said, placing my finger against my lips again. What were we going to do?
