I take one last look at him sleeping so peacefully. My fingers curl with longing to touch him, but I can’t lose any more time. My brief visit to heaven is over, and the devil is waiting for me.
Carrying my boots, I creep to his door and open it slowly, slipping out to the stairs leading to the first floor where I step into my boots and go around to the back where a golf cart is parked behind a motorcycle.
It’s a gamble, but it pays off. I press the power button on the cart and silently cruise out into the night, headed for Hugh van Hamilton’s estate.
A full moon is out, but occasionally a cloud will drift by and obscure it, sending the narrow, country roads from brilliant, silvery light, to dark shadows. Still, I’m confident of the route, and it’s not long before I reach the long circular driveway leading to the mansion.
Avoiding the gravel, I take a sharp curve, following the path around to where the stables are located, and I park near the barn behind an enormous rhododendron bush.
The metallic scent of dew hangs in the air, touching my tongue, and the thick, carpet grass is coated in a haze of moisture. Looking behind me, the tracks leading to where I hid the cart are unmistakable, but it’s too late to turn back now. I can only hope no one notices until after the sun rises and melts away the evidence.
My boots make soft thudding noises on the dirt as I dash up the alley in the center of the dark barn. The horses are asleep in their stalls, but one brown head lifts over a door to see what’s happening. I’d like to stop and pet Training Day, but everything has changed, and I’m playing beat the clock.
On a hunch, I creep across the short yard to the kitchen door at the rear of the house, silently climbing the back steps and holding my breath. He said it’s always open. I turn the handle, and…
It opens.
A knot twists in my throat, and a pit is in my stomach. I’m somewhere between relieved and miserable, and I reach down to quickly remove my boots. The house is dark, and the only signs I’ve seen of Norris the butler are the fresh plates of sandwiches in the afternoons when we’ve been here.
I don’t have time to wonder as I make my way rapidly to the large office I partially searched two days ago.
Bursting in, I quietly shut the heavy oak door, then I round the desk fast, pulling the drawers open and moving papers aside, not worrying about the mess. The pressure of time passing weighs on my shoulders, and I’m as worried about losing this chance as I am about getting caught.
My heart is a steady drumbeat in my ears, and I hear myself breathing fast. When Dirk caught me last time, I had searched all the bookshelves and found nothing but leather-bound classic literature and the occasional law book.
This desk is my only hope. All the drawers on the left side seem to be tax documents, deeds to the house, appraisal forms, receipts for repairs, no books. The narrow center drawer holds pens, paper clips, Post-It notes, all the usual office supplies, stamps, binder clamps. I shove it closed and go immediately to the right hand drawers.
Top drawer, more papers. I shove my fingers down, lifting them up like flipping pages in a book. Nothing. I slam it closed and move to the second and last one. It’s a deep drawer, with several items stacked on top of each other.
A cigar box is on top, and I lift it, opening the lid and checking the contents. Three Don Arturo cigars remain inside, which I know from Gibson’s sell for $15,000 a box. Setting it on the desk, I take out the next item. It’s a very thin volume with a pale blue and cream cover. Opening it, I see it’s a hand-written edition ofThe Tales of Beedle the Bard. A little stab pierces my chest, and I wonder how his uncle has this rare edition… Looking up, I see pale blue light warming the edges of the trees through the small oval window. Time’s up.
Setting the special edition Harry Potter aside, my fingertips tingle as they slide across the next book in the drawer, and lifting it out, I swallow my breath. A long, thin volume with a dark brown leather spine and beige fabric cover is in my hands.
Opening it, I see in the top right the initials VP-K, and I stand, shoving it in my bag and quickly returning everything to the drawer. I’m moving so fast, I don’t give myself time to react. I only know I’ve got the ledger, and I’ve got to get out of here now.
The sun is getting closer to breaking over the horizon, and I need to be far, far from here when it does. Everything is returned to the desk, and I open the door slowly. The house is still dark, and I take two steps in my socked feet, retracing the direction I came, when a creak of wooden floor freezes me in place.
My fists tighten on my bag, and I’m stock-still with my back pressed into a corner behind a wingback chair. Silence falls in the dark living room. My heart beats so hard, it nauseates me, and I hold my breath. The vibration of another human’s presence is intense.
It’s not Dirk, and I’m sure it’s not the butler, who would most likely walk without hesitation to the kitchen to begin the day. Dirk mentioned a bodyguard, but wouldn’t he travel with Mr. van Hamilton?
Dirk’s family was supposed to arrive back today, but I’m pretty sure he said it would be later. Is it possible someone came back early? I’m doing my best to shrink smaller into the darkness when another creak of wood flooring lights every nerve in my body.
Whoever is in here is moving slowly, cautiously towards the office, where I just was. From the sound of it, they’re on the other side of the bookcase, and I don’t move. As soon as the door opens, I take off fast as a rabbit, not stopping for anything.
When I get to the kitchen, the door stands open, and I fly through it, scooping my boots up on my way down the short flight of steps, and running as hard as I can for the tree line.
I don’t stop running until I’m a good distance away from the house, and then I pull up my ride-share app, ordering a car and quickly following my map to the highway. Fifteen minutes of hiding in the woods later, a lone Chevy Equinox appears, and I dash out of the woods to hop inside.
The driver gives me a mildly suspicious glance, but I smile brightly. “Heading back to school!”
With a shrug he turns the wheel, and we’re headed back to Thornton. After a few miles, I open my bag and take out the book. All this work, and it’s right here in my hands.
20
Dirk
The noiseof my phone vibrating pulls me from a deep sleep. At first I’m disoriented. The bed is empty, and looking all around, I see no sign of Reanna anywhere. Then I notice her bag is gone.