Seizure(82)

“Bull Island borders Sewee Bay,” Ben added. “Smack in the heart of ancestral Sewee territory. Most of the tribe lived near there.”

“If Bonny operated that close to Sewee villages,” Shelton said, “a tribal legend would make sense. Ben’s story could be dead on.”

“Both poem and legend mention a field of bones,” I said. “I don’t know what that means, but the similarity lends credit to each reference.”

Hi pocketed his phone. “FYI, the full moon is tomorrow night.”

“Then we need to be there,” Chance said firmly. “Could be our only shot.”

No one responded.

Chance glanced from face to face. “What?”

“You’re not coming,” Ben said. “Not in this lifetime.”

“Of course I am.” Chance reached into the safe and removed the cross. “This is mine. If you need it to find buried treasure, I’m in.”

“We don’t need the cross,” Shelton said. “Not for sure.”


Chance’s smile held zero warmth. “I’ll call the police the moment you walk out that door.”

“They’ll haul you right back to the Crazy Town Inn,” Hi pointed out. “The cops must be looking for you right now.”

And me, I thought glumly.

Marsh Point would be frantic to find Chance. Who had they already contacted? The police? Bolton Prep? Kit? The awful possibilities tightened my gut.

Chance shrugged. “This lovely jaunt won’t last anyway. Do you think I plan to live as a fugitive forever?” He snorted. “I’m a Claybourne. I was bored, but I’m not stupid.”

“What you are is delusional.” Ben fumed. “The treasure belongs to us.”

Chance’s hands found his hips. “Cut me out, and I’ll make sure you get nothing.”

Unexpectedly, twin yellow beams flashed across the room.

“Headlights,” Chance warned. “In the driveway.”

“Kill the lamps!” Ben ordered.

Shelton and Hi did. Then we huddled in total darkness.

“Who uses this place?” I whispered.

“No one. My father’s in prison, as you well know. And the servants don’t come after dark.”

The front doorknob jiggled.

Chance rose. “If some lowlife thinks he can rob me, he’s about to learn a harsh lesson.”

I grabbed his arm. “We didn’t tell you everything! Someone’s been following us. And whoever it is fired shots down in the tunnels.”

Chance dropped back into a crouch. “Guns? Seriously?”

“Yes. So let’s sneak out the way we came.”

“Someone’s at the back door!” Shelton hissed from behind me. “We’re trapped!”

Glass shattered in the kitchen.

My heart pounded. “Is there another way?”

“The basement.” Chance tucked the cross under his belt. “Follow me!”

We raced down a hallway to a steep, narrow staircase. Descending at full speed, we reached a dark earth-floored cellar.

“This way.” Snatching a flashlight from a shelf, Chance hurried to a pair of wooden doors on the back wall.

“Tunnel.” Chance yanked one side open. “This cabin was originally part of the Underground Railroad for escaped slaves.”

“Where does it lead?” Shelton asked. He’d clearly had enough of tunnels.

“The boathouse. Fifty feet.”

Something rattled at the top of the stairs.

“Go!” I whispered.

We slipped into the passage, and Chance pulled the door shut. Scurrying like rats, we quickly reached the tunnel’s end.

Chance palm-pushed a trapdoor above our heads. Hinges groaned. The wooden panel swung open and flopped to the floorboards.

Cupping his hands for my foot, Chance boosted me up through the opening.

All was quiet in the boathouse.

I turned to help Shelton and Hi. Ben came next. Then he reached back and pulled Chance after him.

We sprinted down the dock and jumped aboard Sewee. Ben fired the engine and slammed the boat into gear.

Feet pounded down the planks behind us.

“Too late,” I whispered.

Sewee sped out into the cove.





WE BROKE FOR dinner.

Chance was restless, full of questions, but no one else felt like talking.

For the Virals, getting chased by thugs was becoming routine.

After a quick check of the premises, I smuggled Chance into the townhouse and scrounged up some mac and cheese.

“Don’t think I’m cooking for you.” The water was taking forever to boil. “This box just happens to be family size.”

“If you’re grounded, where’s your father?” Chance was idly spinning a quarter on the countertop. “He’s not exactly running a supermax prison here.”

“He’s at a movie with Whitney.” I snorted. “He just texted a reminder for me to record Deadliest Catch. Sometimes I’m awed by his cluelessness.”

“My father is serving life in prison. I’ve got you beat.”

Chance’s attempt at humor fell flat.

We ate our pasta in silence.