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“And modern, too. These monks are more than they seem.”

He nodded. “It’s gonna be tough to search.”

We approached a five-story building set on massive concrete pilings. Colonial-brick arches fronted the lower levels, while limestone and pale stucco covered those above.

Patterson waited for the group to reassemble. “The library houses our theological collections, as well as religious art and many rare books. There are also meeting facilities, a conference center with state-of-the-art computer capability, and a high-definition theater.”

Shelton whistled softly. “High tech.”

“The tour has now ended.” Patterson spread his arms wide. “Please feel free to wander the library or visit our many gardens. Stay as long as you like. We ask only that you avoid the cloisters, out of respect for the brothers’ privacy, and the graveyards, to preserve the holiness of the interments.”

With that, Patterson left, his robes swishing softly with every step. The German couple strolled down a garden path, while Lip Gloss and Baldy headed back toward the gift shop. The nuns entered the library.

“What now?” Hi asked.

I shrugged. “Any ideas?”

“I say we go left.” Shelton was studying a free map he’d snagged in the gift shop. “There’s a massive garden that overlooks the Cooper River.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I readjusted my backpack. “Remember, eyes peeled. For whatever.”

We chose a trail skirting two natural ponds at the bottom of the ravine. It led by several small dwellings standing alone in the woods.

“Who lives in those?” Ben asked.

“Those are guest houses,” I answered, recalling facts from my online investigation of Mepkin Abbey while we’d waited for Ben. “You can take a retreat here, and live like a monk for a weekend, a week, even longer if they let you. I guess that’s one way to get right with God.”

“Sounds relaxing,” Shelton said. “I’d sleep the whole time.”

“Not likely. You have to attend all the prayers, and work your butt off.”

We navigated a maze garden, then crossed a meadow of native plants. The trail continued through a cluster of magnolias beside an ancient cemetery, then dropped down toward the riverbank.

Along the way we passed two wooden statues—one depicting the Crucifixion, the other the Holy Family’s flight from Egypt. Interesting, but irrelevant to our clue.

“The main garden is down there.” Shelton pointed to a lush, green area ahead.

“Stop.” I looked from face to face. “We can’t risk missing something.”

All three took my meaning. I saw their bodies tense, their eyes close.

SNAP.

Like that, everyone’s flare was burning. I could sense their thoughts, though not as strongly with Coop absent.

I didn’t attempt contact. Didn’t want a mutiny on my hands.

“Follow me.”

We entered the heart of the Mepkin Abbey gardens. Ancient trees shaded a series of terraced fields dotted with gates and vine-covered statues. Azaleas, camellias, and other flowering shrubs sloped down to the river below.

The place was gorgeous, yet secretive, filled with hidden nooks and crannies tucked into the verdant foliage. Hushed. Mysterious.

We cast out our super-senses, examining every sculpture, niche, and gravestone.

Nothing clicked. We discovered no hint of the Gamemaster’s cache.

“We’re in the wrong place.” My voice radiated frustration. “But I don’t know where else to look.”

“There’s one more possibility.” Hi had commandeered the map and was pointing to the woods at our backs. “The abbey’s oldest cemetery is beyond that ridge. It’s the most remote point on the grounds.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” I was already moving.

“Off-limits,” Shelton muttered. I chose not to hear.

We entered the woods and continued to the base of a narrow plank bridge. Towering pines and thick understory blocked our view of the garden and river.

“We have to cross?” Shelton asked.

“Come on, you wuss.” Ben fired across.

The rest of us followed.

After climbing a staircase on the opposite embankment, we spotted our objective. Fifty yards square, and bounded by a shoulder-high brick wall, the ancient graveyard was crammed with headstones and monuments. A rusty iron gate blocked entry.

No birds chirped. No crickets hummed. The air was heavy with moisture and deathly still.

“We can’t enter a burial ground,” Shelton insisted. “Patterson was clear on that.”

“Guys, look!” My hypervision had already zeroed in.

A small mausoleum sat dead center in the cemetery.

Adorning its roof was a marble sphere.

Carved into its surface was a familiar pattern.

An inverted semicircle with radiating spikes.

A rising sun.





CHAPTER 30





“We’re going in.”

I rattled the gate, hoping to spring it free. No such luck. A thick steel padlock held the barrier in place.

“Cemeteries are out of bounds!” Shelton’s whine was a personal best. “We can’t disrespect the dead.”