Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
It was an odd thing to hear in adulthood, but touched by Grace’s vulnerability, I said, “Yes,” and opened my heart for the first time in forever.
Grace’s face lit up. “Oh!” she said a second later. “I almost forgot. Could you grab dried apricots from the pantry? Aaron asked me to get them soaking in warm water.”
She raised her shoulders to her ears and gave a sheepish smile. “I have no idea why he wants them, but I assume it’ll be delicious so it’s in our best interest to do as he’s asked.”
It wasn’t until I was about to walk into the pantry that I remembered the vandalized painting, the eyes weeping bloody tears.
29
Aaron pinned a sheet over the creepy painting,” Grace said from the stove, a shudder in her voice. “I refused to go in there otherwise.”
Stomach unclenching, I nodded, and walked inside. I couldn’t help glancing over at the painting, but Aaron had used a black sheet to ensure it was fully blocked from view, so there was literally nothing to see.
More relieved than I wanted to be, I got to hunting through the groceries for the apricots. But the painting loomed large in my imagination, a cold kiss on the back of my neck. Because the vandalism? It couldn’t be explained away as easily as the doll. Someone had taken the time to deface Clara’s art in a way designed to frighten those who saw it; there was nothing good-natured about it, nothing that could be put down to a prank.
I went to the sheet, my hand fisted on one end to pull it off.
But in the end, I decided there was no point. Looking at it again wouldn’t answer the question of why one of us—or Grace and Kaea’s mysterious unknown intruder—would do this. It also didn’t align with the theory of it being Darcie’s stalker. Anyone who knew Darcie knew she hated cooking.
No stalker who’d done their homework would count on her entering the pantry. Yes, there was the secret passageway, but even we hadn’t known about that until yesterday. And the painting had already been defaced when Aaron, Grace, and I exited into the pantry. Could one of us have managed it in the highly limited available window of time? Maybe, maybe not.
My eyes fell on the bag of apricots even as my mind circled the topic.
As I reached for them, I realized they were on the shelf that hid the secret passageway. No cans on there now—Aaron or Grace must’ve moved those to other shelves.
The plastic crinkled under my hand as I stood there, frowning.
Not sure why, I pushed open the hidden catch that I’d noticed last night when I was the last to leave the pantry. I’d pushed it shut instinctively, seen where it snicked into the wall to become nothing more than another shelf.
The door swung toward me with silent grace.
I stared at the hinges.
That was it. That was what had been bothering me. Everything in this house creaked and groaned. But this hidden door didn’t make a sound when it should’ve creaked the loudest of them all.
Forgetting the apricots, I took out my phone and used my trusty flashlight app to examine the hinges.
Shiny. No hint of dust.
And when I reached out my finger and wiped it on the metal, it was to feel the slickness of oil between my fingertips.
Someone had taken care to make sure that these hinges wouldn’t make a noise. Darcie? But why? Who else could it have been? Perhaps Jim, the caretaker? But that seemed unlikely. The man would have no reason to go searching for secret doors, and from what Darcie had said, he was the practical farmer type. Get in, get the job done, and get out.
“Did you find it?”
Jolting at the sound of Grace’s call, I yelled back, “Got it!” and pushed the door shut again.
Once more, it closed in eerie silence.
The quiet disturbed me more than all the creaks and groans in the house.
It wasn’t until I was using the kitchen scissors to open the bag so I could soak them for Aaron that I realized one other thing: cobwebs.
Aaron had walked into cobwebs.
That didn’t mean no one else had used the passage. We hadn’t thought to check for footprints in the dust—and at a lanky six three, Aaron was the tallest person in the group by several inches. A shorter individual could’ve traversed the entire tunnel without disturbing the cobwebs at the top. Especially if that shorter person hunched to make themselves even smaller.
Why? Why do any of this?
Knowing the right question, however, didn’t give me the answer.
* * *
—
I had to fight my wince when Darcie joined us for breakfast in the lounge. The shadows under her eyes had turned into purple bruises, her cheeks hollow, and her stunning hair in a fuzzy braid that looked slept on.