Lies I Told(56)

It didn’t make sense. The gold couldn’t be in the carriage house. The exterior walls were visible on all four sides. There were no adjoining buildings to hide a panic room, no shelves or paneling that could be home to a safe big enough to hold the gold.

I turned in Logan’s arms, leaning my head back against his chest, trying to make it seem like a natural way to calm the fire between us as I looked around the carriage house with fresh eyes. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close.

The walls of the carriage house were just like I remembered; nothing could be hiding there. I scanned the floor, my eyes coming to rest on the rubber mat. It looked to be commercial grade, the kind that might be in a restaurant kitchen. But it was slightly off-center, and there was something else, something glinting on one of the sides.

I looked harder, willing my eyes to focus in the half light of what was now full-on dusk. It took a few seconds, but then I got it. Hinges. The mat was askew, and underneath it, on one of the edges that wasn’t lined up quite right, metallic hinges shone just enough against the drab concrete floor to be noticeable now that I was really looking.

There was some kind of door underneath the mat.

We’d been wrong all along. Warren Fairchild hadn’t hidden his gold in a safe or a panic room.

He’d hidden it in a bunker.





Forty-Two


I had a hard time focusing on the rest of the party. Rachel was friendly but aloof, making it impossible to tell how much she knew, how hard she was going to push to get at the truth.

People laughed and talked, marveled at the freshness of the salmon and lobster, the quality of the champagne. Money was raised for the PHCT; compliments were given to the Fairchilds for another successful fund-raiser.

But it all went by in a blur. When I wasn’t thinking about the possible discovery of the gold, I was thinking about Logan, transported back to the moments when we’d been alone in the carriage house, the feel of his mouth on my skin, his hands on my body.

Parker caught my eye toward the end of the night as he slipped from the house, and I knew from the expression on his face that I wasn’t the only one with a discovery to share.

It was after midnight when we got home. Still, we trudged up the stairs to the War Room. Details might be lost overnight, given over to the haze of sleep. We needed to debrief while everything was still fresh.

The door was barely closed when Parker and I spoke in unison.

“There’s nothing in the garage,” Parker said.

“I think the gold is in the carriage house,” I said at the same time.

My dad held up a hand. “Whoa.” He looked at me. “Did you say what I think you said, Grace?”

I nodded.

“I thought we established that the gold couldn’t be in the carriage house,” my mom said.

“That’s because we were looking for a panic room or a safe, something that could be hidden in the walls.”

“And?” my dad prompted.

“It’s not in the walls,” I said. “It’s underground. At least, I think it is.”

“Under the carriage house?” my mom asked.

“I think so.”

“But none of the houses up here have basements,” my dad said with a perplexed expression.

“Maybe it’s not a basement,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s a bunker.”

My mom lifted one delicate brow. “A bunker?”

Parker nodded. “It makes sense. Warren’s super paranoid, right?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “If he were stockpiling supplies for a catastrophe, he’d want something disaster-proof.”

“Tell us what you saw,” my dad instructed.

I explained the setup in the carriage house, the new windows, the hinges in the floor.

My dad turned to Parker. “And you’re sure there’s nothing in the garage?”

“I’m sure. I had almost half an hour to check it out. There’s nothing there.”

My dad took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s assume Grace is right and the gold is in the carriage house. We need to confirm it. Along with this.” He pushed a piece of paper across the table.

I looked at the six numbers written on it. “Is that the pass code to the Fairchilds’ alarm system?”

“I think so. The tonality matches the keys to our system, but there’s only one way to find out for sure.” We were all quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Someone’s going to have to test it.”

“Someone?” Parker asked.

“I think it makes the most sense for Grace to do it. She—”

But he didn’t get any further before Parker interrupted. “No way. What if it’s wrong?”

“Then she’ll run like hell.” My dad’s eyes were steely.

“No f*cking way,” Parker said. “I’ll go.”

“Grace knows the house better than you do. And she can double-check the bunker while she’s there, too.”

“The alarm keypad is right by the front door. It’s not going to take a rocket scientist to find it and test it out,” Parker said.

“We can both go,” I said. “One of us can test the alarm and the other one can double-check the bunker.”

“That works,” my dad said.