Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Well, shit.” I place my shovel at the base of the rosebush and press it into the earth.
Alissa gets to her feet. “Ouch!” she cries out.
“Everything okay?”
She places a finger in her mouth. “The thorns. I wasn’t thinking.” She examines her finger. “Just a little cut. I’ll live.”
“You need a bandage or something?”
She chuckles. “No. It’ll stop bleeding on its own in a bit.” She grabs her shovel and digs in, grimacing slightly. A small line of blood trickles down the wood, but she continues.
Within fifteen minutes or so, we’ve dug underneath the rosebush enough to pull it out by its roots. We each stand on one side, taking care not to get pricked by the thorns of the bush itself, and lift it out of the ground, placing it gently near the picnic tables. We’ll want to replant it once we’re done.
Now we’re cooking. Just digging up the rosebush created a pretty sizeable hole, and, if the riddle isn’t leading us astray, we should be able to just dig straight down.
Several more minutes pass until my shovel hits something solid. It has a little give, so it’s not made of metal. Maybe hard cardboard.
I look up at Alissa, grinning. “Oh my God, I think we found what we’re looking for.”
She grabs the flashlight and peers down. “Whatever it is, it’s red,” she says.
I poke my spade over it, prodding gently until the soil begins to give again. “Looks like it’s about a foot across.” I feel around the perimeter of the object. “Feels like it’s round.”
We dig around the object until we’ve gone deep enough to pull it out. It’s a box, round in shape like I guessed. I pull it out. It’s heavy. I place it on the nearest picnic table.
It’s an elegant hat box, the kind a sophisticated lady would keep her finest pieces in. Dirt is clinging to it on every side, but it still has an impressive sheen. Hearts line the sides of the box, and a knotted velvet ribbon brings the whole thing together.
“We’ll have to untie the ribbon to see what’s inside,” Alissa says.
“Sounds good. You work on the ribbon, and I’ll work on getting this rosebush replanted,” I say. “I’ll use the big flashlight, and you can use your phone light.”
She nods and starts working at the ribbon.
Meanwhile, I return a few chunks of soil to the hole we’ve made, getting it to about the level it was when we removed the rosebush. I’m about to turn to ask Alissa to help me put the rosebush back in when—
“Oh my God!”
I look over at Alissa. Her eyes are wide, and under the moonlight she’s pale as a ghost. The lid is still on the box, but the knot is untied and lying in a heap at its side. Her phone, with its tiny flashlight activated, is on the ground next to her.
“Alissa!” I run over to her. “What is it?”
She points to the box, breathing heavily. “It’s… It’s… I opened it, peeked inside… And… And…”
“You need to take a deep breath, Alissa,” I say.
“Inside… Inside…” Her breath comes in rapid puffs until her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses into my arms.
“Alissa!” I lay her down on the ground beside the picnic table, slapping her gently on the cheek. “Alissa, wake up!”
Fuck. She’s fainted. I’ll have to carry her back to the car if she doesn’t come to.
But before that, I have to finish replanting the rosebush. Can’t leave any evidence that someone was here.
I look back at the hatbox. What was so terrible inside that box that it would cause her reaction?
I need to take care of Alissa, but I also need to know what’s inside this box. This could be an important clue as to what happened to May. What kind of trouble Rouge is brewing behind closed doors at the club.
I know—or at least I think I know—of at least one thing she’s done behind closed doors. I’ve always pushed it to the back of my head, but if she was capable of doing what I believe I witnessed all those years ago, she’s certainly capable of doing other awful things.
Alissa is breathing, and I can make out a pulse in her wrist. She’s okay. Just fainted. She’ll regain consciousness in a bit. Thank God. I have to keep her safe.
But I need to know.
I need to know.
I slowly get to my feet and look at the hatbox. I reach my arm across the table to grab the edge of the lid.
Every muscle in my body is stiffening. My gut is telling me to turn around and run as fast as I can away from this place. Never look back and live the rest of my life in peace.
But we’re too far down the rabbit hole at this point.