Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Guess I’ll have to figure this one out for myself. I walk the perimeter, trying to find an obscured passageway. I look behind a painting of a grave-looking man—Ruskin Montrose, Rouge’s grandfather—but no luck there. A dark cherry bookshelf stands in one corner. I pull out books at random, seeing if one will trigger the opening of a secret passageway.
God, I feel like I’m in the middle of a fucking Scooby-Doo cartoon.
This is getting me nowhere.
Then I see an object in the far-right corner of the office, beside a lavish fainting couch layered in red cashmere throws and silk cushions. An antique armoire.
An armoire…in an office? Seems a little fishy.
Maybe I need to stop thinking like Scooby-Doo and start thinking like C.S. Lewis.
I open the door of the wardrobe, knock on the back of it. It doesn’t sound like it’s against a solid wall. My knocks reverberate in a way indicating a much bigger space behind the wall.
But how to open it?
I return to Rouge’s desk, fiddle around with the objects on it. Something has to trigger the opening in the back of the armoire.
Fuck. It’s no use. I sit back in Rouge’s chair, defeated, letting my arms land on the armrests with a thud.
My left hand hits a ruby embedded on the arm of a chair. It goes down, and whirring sounds from behind me. I turn around, and the back of the armoire is opening.
Holy shit. I did it.
But no time to waste. Alissa can only beat up on Pia for so long.
I run into the bedroom.
This I remember. The extravagant four-poster bed with dark-red sheets, the vintage Frigidaire on the corner from which—my stomach twists—Rouge produced a goblet of blood. And next to the fridge—
The safe! Just as I remembered it.
I reach into my right-hand pants pocket and pull out the key. My fingers are shaking as I place it in the keyhole.
Moment of truth.
What I find in this safe could change everything.
I won’t be able to unsee whatever it is.
I take a deep breath and turn the key.
The safe opens.
And…
Brilliant red gemstones spill out. Red. Rubies, I assume.
Except, no.
I know a few things about gemstones. I have a few pairs of cufflinks with precious stones inlaid in them. I wore the sapphire ones the first time I came to the club. I used to own a set with rubies, but I never wore them so I pawned them one month when my profits from the store were a little low. A shame. I could have worn them with my Valentine’s Day outfit.
These gemstones are lighter than rubies. And when I pick one up and hold it to the light, it sparkles radiantly. These stones are also in round cuts as opposed to the oval cuts that rubies are traditionally shaped into.
These aren’t rubies.
They’re diamonds.
Red diamonds.
Dozens of them.
Holy shit.
A handful of these is easily worth a million bucks. The total contents of this safe would run into the billions.
My father was a wealthy man, especially before he blew all his money on legal bills and hush money. But he could never imagine anything like this.
Not what I was expecting at all.
I dig through the priceless contents of the safe until I land on something larger. I pull it out.
An ornamental pin in the shape of a flower. Petals enameled in soft pink and pearl white, edged in rose gold. At its center, a single clear crystal sparkles. Delicate and elegant.
A brooch. In the shape of a lotus.
The gift Wade Gimble gave to Svetlana on her last night.
My heart pounds.
We suspected Rouge had something to do with Svetlana’s disappearance. Now we may have proof.
But I need more. I have to keep digging, see what I can find.
A few seconds later, I hit the damned jackpot.
A small notebook. Red, of course, with a golden spiral keeping it bound.
I open it.
Names. Hundreds of names. With dates going back several years.
I flip to the back of the notebook. There, written in neat, cursive handwriting, are two names.
Belikova, Svetlana (9D)
Thiên, May (7S)
Next to both names, an arrow. Written next to the arrow are the letters “S.C.”
Spades… Clubs…?
I don’t know.
There’s too much.
In the margin next to May’s name is a tiny drawing of a crown followed by “D4” written in the same tidy handwriting.
Dam Number Four, where we found May’s head. That’s what the little sketch of a crown must be referring to, just like in the riddle.
Next to Svetlana’s name, another crown. This one followed by “D1.”
My breath hitches. Was Svetlana beheaded as well?
When we were looking through Alissa’s Maps app last Sunday—just one week ago—Alissa mentioned that there was a Dam Number One as well.
This means… We can show this to the police. Lead them to the first dam in that nature preserve next to O’Hare.
And if we find a head matching Svetlana’s description…