Code(54)

Blargh.

Dilemma.

Be petulant, selfish, and happy? Or be generous . . . and miserable.

Then something grabbed my attention. I forgot all about the Whitney problem.

An object sat where Whitney’s vase had been.

Small. Weathered. Metal.

The Gamemaster’s figurine.

I bounded to the shelf. “Where’d you get this?”

“The statuette? I saw it on your desk, and thought Saint Benedict would look nice down here.” Whitney’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. I’ve done it again, haven’t I?”


My pulse quickened. “Say again?”

“Darling, I’m so sorry!” Whitney’s face dropped to her hands. “I thought you’d like something of yours in place of my vase. I’m just terrible, aren’t I?” She sounded on the verge of tears.

“Whitney, I’m not mad.” I pointed at the figurine. “You said this is who?”

“Saint Benedict, of course.” Whitney drew a fingertip under each watery eye. “I was raised Catholic, as you surely know. When I was a girl, his image hung in our family library. He’s the patron of students.”

I couldn’t believe it. Hours of fruitless searches, and Whitney freaking Dubois just hands me the answer. Odds that long don’t exist.

My mind raced. We had twelve hours to find the next cache.

I needed the boys ASAP.

“I prefer keeping this in my room.” I snatched the figurine and bolted for the stairs. “But I do appreciate the thought.”

“Forgive me.” Whitney stood as I passed her. “I’ll never touch your things again.”

Impulsively, I turned and hugged her. “Not a problem.”

Then I raced up the steps, leaving the stunned Barbie in my wake.




“Got it!” Hi kissed his laptop screen. “Come to Daddy.”

I raised a brow. “Got what?” We’d been searching for thirty seconds.

We sat at my dining room table, waiting for Shelton and Ben. Whitney must’ve left soon after I’d gone upstairs.

I’d sent the boys a demanding text. So far, only Hi had surfaced.

“There’s a Saint Benedict Catholic Church.” He spun his computer for me to see. “In Mount Pleasant. How ya like them apples?”

“That’s great.” Could it be that easy?

I glanced at the black-and-white cloth that had covered the statue.

“What about the wrapping?” I tossed the fabric to Hi.

“Could be nothing.” He turned it in his hands. “Did you notice this, though?”

“Notice what?”

Hi held the swatch by a corner, revealing a tiny piece of embroidery on its back.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I was getting sloppy. And at the wrong time.

I snatched the square back from Hi. The small and neat stitching formed a half circle with four squiggly lines rising from it.

“Looks like a sunrise,” I said. “What could that mean?”

“Who knows? The fabric could just be protective packaging.”

“Maybe.” But something bothered me. “Don’t you think this was too easy?”

Hi was already headed for my kitchen. “Too easy how?”

“Compared to the other tasks.” I hugged my knees to my chest. “The other clues were hard. Intricate. They involved codes, puzzles, things like that.”

Hi returned with a box of Wheat Thins. “Maybe we got lucky this time.”

Perhaps. Probably.

No.

I didn’t buy it.

“So far, the Gamemaster hasn’t included anything in a clue that wasn’t relevant.” I tapped the fabric. “There’s a shape here. And why is it black and white? This cloth has to factor somehow.”

Hi sighed. “So you need my brilliance again.”

“I do.”

“Fine.” Dropping the Wheat Thins on the table. “These are ‘reduced fat’ anyway. Blech.”

We ran search after search. Shelton arrived and added his thoughts to the mix. Thirty minutes later we still had nothing.

“We’re going in circles,” Hi complained. “And where the heck is Ben?”

“AWOL.” Shelton glanced at the clock. “He looked terrible this morning. I bet he lay down and passed out.”

“Let’s start over.” I cleared the history and typed. “Saint Benedict. Charleston.”

Familiar results. Every hit involved the Mount Pleasant church.

Was I overthinking this? I could be wasting precious time.

Trust your instincts. Keep looking.

“What if we remove that church from the results?” Shelton suggested.

“Do it.” I yielded the keyboard.

Shelton’s fingers danced as he adjusted search functions.

“Hell-o. What’s this?”

I hunched over his shoulder. The screen contained a pleasant image of a country road lined with giant oaks. In the corner was a soft logo, white on black.

Mepkin Abbey.

“A monastery.” Hi was leaning in close beside me. He did not smell tremendous.

“Monks?” Shelton snorted. “Seriously? In South Carolina?”