Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Okay. Well,” Hawk said, holding up the shovels he’d found in the corner of the garage near the bin full of sports equipment, “here you go. I’ll keep watch.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.
“We can help,” Hope said.
“No,” Griffen countered. “We only have two shovels. You two can supervise if you want to stay.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to leave?” Paige asked, her pale blue eyes leveled on mine.
I stopped and faced her. It was time for me to say what I needed to say, to make it as right as I could. “No. I was stupid before, and I’m sorry. This whole situation has me all fucked up. I saw you injured, bleeding, and I lost it. I should never have told you to stay away from me. I don’t want you to leave. And even if I did, I think you need to stay for this.”
Paige bit her lower lip, her eyes suddenly filling. “You think?”
She’d obviously had the same thought I had, which meant we were in the same boat, whether we liked it or not.
I touched a fingertip to her bottom lip. “Let’s wait and see what’s under there first, okay?”
A tear crested over her lower lashes and rolled down her cheek.
I brushed it off with the side of my thumb, pressing a kiss on the salty trail. “Don’t cry. Not yet. Not till we know.”
I didn’t know what was under the concrete, but I could guess what Prentice would have wanted to hide enough that he’d buried it under layers of concrete and gravel. Still, I hoped I was wrong.
She nodded, and I stepped back. “I love you,” I said quietly, the words just for her. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I love you, too.” A faint smile curved her lips. “Now go dig up the floor.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and turned to take the shovel Griffen handed me.
What followed was more digging than I’d done in a while—shovelfuls of gravel, the noise of it abrasive and deafening. It took longer than I would have guessed to get through it all. Griffen and I worked in dogged silence, side by side. Griffen’s face was set in grim lines. I expected mine looked the same.
Hope and Paige watched from the back of the garage, while Hawk took Eli and Wren’s former position by the doors, watching us as he scanned the field and woods on the side of the Manor. Sweat ran down my temples, but I didn’t take off my jacket, not wanting to scare Paige with the bulletproof vest. It was probably overkill, but I knew Hawk would send me back inside if I tried to take it off. He didn’t mind using me as bait, but he wasn’t going to let me die on his watch. Since I had every intention of staying alive, I left the jacket on and dealt with the heat, shoveling until my back ached and my arms burned.
I was knee-deep in the hole when my shovel scraped against wood. A few more shovelfuls and we’d bared a section of plywood.
“What’s the plywood for?” I heard Hope ask as we cleared our way to its edge, then along the border to discover there was almost a full sheet of it, at least four feet by eight feet, discolored by age and crumbling at the edges. We had the gravel scraped away in minutes.
“Probably to stabilize the surface under the gravel,” Hawk answered, leaving his place at the garage door to reach down and grab our shovels. When our hands were free, Griffen and I took positions at two corners on the long side of the sheet of plywood.
“You ready?” I asked, looking at my older brother.
“No,” he said, his eyes somber, “but I think we’d better see what’s under here.”
I nodded and leaned down, hooking my fingers under the edge. “Three, two, one, lift.”
It was awkward, angling the plywood up and tipping it back, edging our way along the sides of the hole to lean it upright. My view of the hole was blocked by the plywood when I heard Hope and Paige gasp behind me and Hawk’s low, “Well, fuck.”
Griffen and I shoved the plywood up and out of the hole and turned to see what we’d uncovered. Beneath the plywood was, as Bailey Toms had described, a lumpy mass of concrete, clearly hastily poured. Over the last thirty years, that concrete had crumbled in places, settling into a shape that appeared to be—
I shook my head, wishing I could see something else beneath the rough blanket of concrete.
“It looks like…” Hope said, her voice fading out.
“Bodies,” Hawk finished for her, his voice flat. “Two. There’s an edge of fabric over in the corner there, coming through where the concrete is uneven.”
Griffen said nothing, swallowing hard, his eyes on mine. He eased closer, kneeling down in the spot Hawk had pointed to, reaching out with a fingertip to touch the triangle of fabric poking through the concrete. Faded cotton, the faintest pattern of flowers in pink.