The Vanishing Stair (Truly Devious, #2)(67)

“According to my aunt,” Hunter said, “Mackenzie disobeyed. He said he never felt right about going along with everything on the night of the kidnapping. He thought if he’d gone against Ellingham’s wishes and called the police right away, things might have turned out differently. When Ellingham wrote this codicil, he told Mackenzie to publicize it far and wide. Mackenzie always thought that Alice was dead, and even if she were alive, she would be safer if the stakes were lower, if the publicity had died down. If this challenge went out into the world, every con artist and hustler would land on top of them. And then when Ellingham died, Mackenzie felt he needed to protect his estate. He didn’t want the money to be stolen away—he wanted it to be used for good. So he made sure the codicil was locked up.”

“So there’s this magical piece of paper out there that no one knows about that says ‘Find Alice, win a prize!’”

“I’m not saying I believe it. I’m saying it’s what my aunt believes, and she swears Mackenzie told her about it.”

Stevie paused and thought about this for a moment.

“Someone would have to know,” Stevie said.

“She says people do know. The people on the board, who run Ellingham and the trust. And they can’t inherit. They all agree to keep things quiet so that they don’t get spammed by treasure hunters all the time. Can you imagine? It’s a shit-ton of money.”

Stevie could imagine. As it was, people had presented themselves as Alice many times, but all had failed to pass the sniff test. There were things about Alice that were kept secret that they didn’t know. The only people who had tried more recently failed DNA tests.

“So are you saying your aunt is doing this for money?” she said.

“I think at first she wanted to write a book, but yeah. Now she’s basically a dude with a metal detector looking for a lost city of gold.”

The idea of doing this for money left a bitter taste in Stevie’s mouth.

“I’m telling you this for a reason,” he said. “I don’t like how she’s using you. I don’t like how we’re here today. It’s why I wanted to give you my number. There’s something gross about all of this. She’s had contacts at the school before. You’re not even the first person she’s been talking to up there this year.”

“Who?” she said.

“I don’t know. I heard her talking to someone on the phone, someone who had to be here on the campus. She was being very secretive about it. And she mentioned your name.”

“What about me?” Stevie said.

“I couldn’t make much out. I caught your name, something about Ellingham, that’s it.”

“When was this?”

“It was earlier in the year because it was warmer and we had all the windows open. But school was definitely in session. Mid-September?”

“Do you think your aunt was talking to Hayes or Ellie?”

“I don’t know. She could have been.”

If Fenton had been in communication with Hayes or Ellie . . .

Hayes made more sense. It was Hayes who’d had the idea to make the video. Hayes wanted to go into the tunnel. Hayes and his half-baked ideas. Fenton wanted people who would scout for her. Had she gone to Hayes first, and then when Hayes died, come to Stevie? Was she second fiddle to Hayes?

She had to ignore that for a second, because the thought was too irritating. Maybe Fenton had somehow convinced Hayes that he could make a huge fortune if he just went tunneling.

There was a noise behind them, and Germaine Batt appeared, headphones on. From outside appearances, she was just walking by on her way somewhere, but that felt unlikely to Stevie. She had the bad feeling that Germaine had heard every word, and that Stevie had just repaid the favor she owed.





19


“WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE ATTRACTION AT DISNEY WORLD?” MUDGE asked as he removed the rubbery band of muscle and fat from around a cow eyeball.

“I’ve never been there,” Stevie said.

Stevie was standing a few feet away in her lab apron, gripping her coffee in her nitrile-gloved hands. Mudge worked on the dissection tray. The smell of formaldehyde swelled inside Stevie’s nose.

It had been five days since Ellie. That’s how Stevie thought of it. This was the post-Ellie period. The police had finished with Minerva House. Ellie’s things were no longer there, and the only area of interest was the entrance to the tunnel under the steps. They had put a rough bracket over the panel with a very serious-looking lock—not something that could be picked with a pin. There were also three crisscrossing bits of police tape.

Things had, in that way they do, ground back to normalcy. There had been news stories, of course. But the general conclusion was that the Hayes matter had now reached its natural end. The person responsible, having done a bad thing, had gotten herself killed while making another bad decision. There was press for a day, but then the news cycle snuffed out the story when something else came along a few hours later. Parents had been called and soothed. And Edward King had worked his magic again, assuring Stevie’s parents that Ellie had gotten exactly what was coming to her and there was no further need for concern.

And David . . . he was there. He did not do morning screaming meditation or sleep on the roof. He continued going to class, but he never spoke to Stevie, not once. It was like she did not exist.