Secret of the Sevens (26 page)

After so many stressful days and sleepless nights, I'm crashing physically and mentally. My head falls back to the wall and my eyes flutter closed. I space out for a moment, and my mind returns to that stormy night in the cemetery.

My voice is trapped in my throat. My feet won't move. A burst of lightning close behind me sends me flying forward into the swampy soil. The air is still crackling when I push myself up on shaky arms and see the most terrifying sight of all. An enormous winged statue towers above me, pointing at a grave. Is she saying it's for me?

My eyes flash open and I hop up so fast, I knock Laney over. “We aren't going to find the TPD here!” I'm doing a touchdown dance while Laney stares up at me with worried, drowsy eyes. I fall to my knees in front of her and cup her face in my hands. “We aren't going to find it here because
this
isn't the empty tomb.
This
is the empty statue.”

She squints her eyes like I need therapy.

“Oh, my little Watson,” I tell her. “Don't you get it? The TPD is in the empty tomb. The
original
grave where Mary was buried, before her body was moved here.” I say it slow so it sinks in fast: “William Singer hid the TPD in Mary's
original
grave!”

Now Laney's doing her own version of a touchdown celebration. I grab her by the hand and pull her to the stairs. “Let's go. Now!”

“Wait,” she says. “We have to be careful. Kane probably has people looking everywhere for you. Maybe I should go by myself.”

“No way. We're a team.”

She tosses me a cape. “Then put this on. It'll give us some cover. Maybe it'll bring a little luck too.”

“Oh yeah, 'cause it worked so well for the last group of Sevens.”

“Shut up, Michaels. Just do it. We've got to hurry.”

She slides into her cape, pulling the hood over her head. I copy her and we tiptoe up the stairs. Everything's pitch black and silent beyond the peephole. We sneak out of the statue and crack open the mausoleum door.

“It's clear,” she whispers.

We creep through the trees toward the winged angel statue that marks Mary Singer's original grave, scanning the cemetery for Security. We're alone. For now.

The angel stands atop a square pedestal with one arm outstretched and the other pressed against her heart. Laney reaches the monument and frisks the stone like airport security.

“No, Laney.” I'm on some kind of roll, because I know this one too. “The poem said ‘if you use all you've learned, you can solve this last clue.' Think about it. We found the secret door in the mausoleum by following where the angel's hands were pointing. If we ‘use what we learned,' then we do the same thing here. Follow the angel's fingers to where she's pointing.”

“You are
so
freaking smart.” Her words pump me like a pre-game pep talk.

Laney kneels in front of the statue and follows an imaginary line from the statue's pointer finger to a section of the base below it. Digging her nails into the dirt, she feels along the side of the marble.

Her eyes widen inside her velvet hood, and I know she's found something. She stretches and wiggles and grunts until finally …
click.

The interior section of the pedestal drops down instantly.

I reach my hand inside and it's packed with cold, heavy, rectangular bars. I can't tell what they are in the dark. I lift one out and hand it to Laney. “What is this? There's a ton of them in here.”

She studies it under the light of the quarter moon. “I think it's … oh my God, it's gold!” She hands it back to me quick, like she's afraid to touch it.

I roll it around in my hands while it sinks in. There must be millions of dollars of gold here. More money than I could ever spend. With just a few of these, I'd be set next year. I'd be set forever. I bet Laney would even let me take one or two.

But I don't ask. Because it's not important anymore.

“I just realized something,” I tell her. “You know the legend about how Mr. Singer would come to the cemetery every night and visit Mary's grave?”

She nods.

I store the bar back inside. “He was probably bringing these, little by little, to hide. The cemetery was probably off limits back then, too. No one would have known.”

I reach my hand deeper and knock over a large, square object. I shimmy it out and show Laney. “It's a security box.”

“You open it,” she says, cuddling up to my side. “I'm too nervous.”

I tug the lid up and there it is—the TPD. Or, as the document is titled,
Addendum to the Singer School Deed of Trust: Assignment of Trust Protectors
. I unfold it in all its confusing glory. I was never a fan of reading, but it reads like legal hieroglyphics.

Laney's eyes jump from the document to me. Her grin peeks out from beneath her hood. “We did it,” she whispers.

“We haven't done anything unless we can present this at the board meeting at 8:00 a.m.”

A light flashes in the distance. “Talan, there's a car coming!” Laney whispers.

She faceplants on her stomach, and I drop down next to her. We lay low in our cloaks as Security slowly drives down Rucker Road. After they pass, Laney pokes at the button to close the pedestal door. We stand just as headlights reappear, forcing us to dash for the mausoleum. I'm squeezing the security box so tight that it's digging into my ribs, even through the cloak.

We rush inside the mausoleum and jab the button on the side of the granite casket. The door takes forever to open. We slide in and shut it just as voices appear.

Looking out the slit, I see two security guards enter and search the room with flashlights. “I could have sworn I saw someone run in here.”

A second voice replies, “Let's check the woods.”

They leave, and we tiptoe down the stairs to the secret room. We collapse on the cold floor, breathless and shaking.

“Kane probably has Security searching everywhere for you,” Laney says. “How are we going to get to that meeting? By tomorrow, he'll have the Executive Building in lockdown. The Pillars and police will be posted all over campus.”

“Not to mention all the students that would love to turn me in for a $10,000 reward.”

“Wait.” Laney jolts upright. “I have an idea. If we can get into the library, we can take the utility tunnel to the Executive Building. We can probably pry the vent open in that back room. It's big enough to climb through.”

“We still have to get to the library from here,” I remind her. “And it doesn't open until 8:00. How do we
cross campus in broad daylight? Everyone is after me.”

“Unless … ”

I lean forward. “Unless what?”

“There's one tunnel we haven't taken yet. The one to Winchester House. That's fairly close to the rear of the library. Maybe we could make a run for it from there.”

“Winchester House? Get serious. The Pillars want us gone more than anyone. Are we supposed to pop out of their fireplace, grab a Pop-Tart for breakfast, and head off to the board meeting together?”

“Do you have a better idea?” she says.

I huff, “Guess not” and grab the TPD from the security box. I stand and shove it into my back pocket. “Get the map. It's time to visit Winchester House.”

Minutes later, we're cruising down the corridor. We turn left
at the very end and take that passage until it dead ends too.

Laney rubs her hands across the cement surface. “Now where's
this
entrance hidden?” When she rolls her eyes, they do a double take at the ceiling. “Maybe it's that.”

She nods up at a fluorescent light fixture directly overhead. “It's recessed into the ceiling, so it has to be cut into the concrete. Which means there's probably an opening behind it.”

“Here.” I bend down. “Get on my shoulders and check it out.”

I take my cloak off and help her up. With a little maneuvering, she climbs on and I lift her to the light fixture.

“It's hot,” she says. She covers her hand with her cape and pushes the light up. It lifts easily, and she slides it over to one side, then pokes her head into the opening.

“There's an attic ladder!” she squeals. Her hands stretch inside and roll out something metal. “Scoot back,” she directs me. She carefully draws out the ladder, unfolding it to the ground.

I help her down and follow her up the ladder through the hole in the ceiling. It leads to a narrow space, similar to the one behind Mr. Singer's fireplace. There's another one-way mirror, which looks out into the family room of the Winchester House. But this time, there's no fireplace—the mirror spans an eight-by-ten section of one wall. The glass is divided into horizontal rectangles.

We angle our heads to see through separate panes, but our view is blocked by books and knick-knacks that sit in front of the glass. With a little maneuvering, I can make out Zack Hunter stretched on a sofa watching television.

Laney cups her hand to my ear and whispers, “We're standing behind shelves. This must be a built-in bookcase with mirrors along the back.”

I step back and locate a seam in the center of the mirrors that's the size of a door. The left side is hinged and the right is latched tight. “This must be how they got in and out of Winchester House,” I whisper. “It's the old hidden-door-in-a-bookcase. Very
Scooby Doo
.”

“Don't get too excited, Shaggy.” She points at Zack on the couch. “We still have to figure out how to get out without being caught by the Pillars.”

Just then, Kane barges through the front door, dragging a wobbly Professor Solomon by the arm.

“You stupid little man!” Kane twists Solomon's arm behind his back and screams at him. “You were going to expose me with a letter?”

“I'm done living this lie.” Solomon's words are slurred and raspy.

Zack jumps off the sofa a second before Kane shoves the professor on it.

“What are you doing here?” Kane barks at him.

“I live here, sir.”

“You're supposed to be scouring the campus for Talan Michaels.”

“I d-did,” Zack stutters. “He isn't anywhere. I also spread the word that you doubled the reward money. Now that everyone thinks he tried to frame his friends, there isn't a person on campus who wouldn't turn him in the second they saw him.”

“Help me.” Solomon grabs Zack's sleeve. “Call … police.”

“Get to bed!” Kane orders Zack. “Now! I need you up early to stand guard for Michaels and his gang, just in case.”

“But what about Professor Solomon?”

“Keep your mouth shut and get to your room. You've seen nothing!”

“You murdered them,” Solomon mumbles at Kane.

“NOW!” Kane screams at Zack, who takes off for the stairs.

“Murderer,” Solomon whimpers from the couch.

Kane paces in front of him. “Look who's talking. This whole mess is your fault. You should never have made a pass at her.”

“I was drunk,” Solomon moans.

“You killed her. You're no better than me, Uncle.”

“No. I threw the stone to stop her horse. She was rushing to tell William. She wouldn't even stop to put her helmet on,” Solomon whimpers. “I never thought it'd buck her off.”

“But it did. You killed her. And then you convinced William it was someone on the Board so he wouldn't suspect you. You're as guilty as I am.”

Solomon is pitiful, blubbering and grabbing at Kane's shirt. “I confessed. William would have forgiven me. Eventually. He would have if you hadn't killed him.”

Kane wrings Solomon's wrist and he flinches in pain. “No, he would have turned you in, you fool. We both would have been kicked out of here.
You'd
have gone to jail. I did you a favor.”

“You did it for yourself. You wanted his money. And you were mad because you weren't good enough for the Sevens.”

Kane p
aces in front of the bookcase. “Well look at me now. I made out better than any of them.”

“Because you killed them.”

“That was an accident too. I only planned on killing Singer.”

“Those children,” Solomon wails. “They tried to save him. You locked them in a burning building.” The old man's sobs turn to gasps and he clutches his chest. “I'm done … being blackmailed.”

He stumbles to his feet, but Kane shoves him hard. Solomon hits his head against the arm of the sofa and falls motionless against the cushions.

Laney inhales sharply and I cover her mouth with my hand. Cameron and Iman straggle through the door and freeze when they see the professor passed out.

“Never mind him. Did you find Michaels?” Kane yells.

Iman's voice shakes. “There's no sign of him anywhere. No one's seen him since this afternoon.”

Kane pulls an envelope from his pocket and shoves it at Cameron. “Hide this letter until I can destroy it.”

Cameron slides the envelope into a book that sits on the shelf in front of Laney. She takes a step back, even though we know they can't see us.

“You.” Kane points a finger at Iman. “Keep an eye on the professor until I can figure out what to do.”

“He doesn't look well, sir,” Iman says.

“He needs his medicine.”

“What if he dies?”

“All the better,” Kane snaps. “We can dump him on campus and it'll look like he passed away from natural causes.”

Iman's jaw drops.

“What should
I
do, sir?” Cameron interrupts.

“Get some sleep. I want you up early to search campus for Michaels one last time before the board meeting. I told the police that Michaels threatened to kill Katherine, so we've got extra officers patrolling the grounds, too.” He slithers to the door. “I've texted you all instructions for the morning. Do your part and we'll be set for the meeting.”