As much as Chrissy wanted to leave this world, with all of its “pretty lies” about murder, I had to know the ugly truth. If my brother did it, if he killed Jenny Juliott … then I wanted to know.
I need to know what he was hiding.
I searched every closet upstairs first, although I’d been through all that before. There was very little, if nothing, left behind of them anymore. I’d stored it all in the basement.
For the next several hours, I sifted through box after box downstairs. Tub after dusty tub, cobwebs clinging to my face and hands…
There were letters and pictures … family vacations and school pictures. A time when we were happy and normal, such a long time ago…
I searched for hidden alcoves or loose floorboards, which seemed like something my brother would do. He loved adventure and mystery, always sending me on wild goose chases as a kid. Memories of him danced around my head, making me sick with grief. His treasure maps—X marks the spot. His made-up plays and games. Catch the pirate and tie him to a tree. Avoid the lava in the grass. Find the treasure and save the girl.
He always had the best hiding spots as a kid…
So many hours spent living in worlds that weren’t real … where did that brother go? The one that was fun and playful. The one who didn’t keep secrets like this … I wondered.
My thoughts circled back to the Cornwalls’ property. It was conveniently close; an easy place to hide something. But the trailer was empty, abandoned … but, perhaps, it was worth taking another look…
The house shook with thunder, lights flickering in and out, as I moved from room to room. What am I missing, Jack? Where could you have hidden such a large trunk?
When I had moved in, there was no evidence of digging or freshly loose soil. But, then again, who knew how long it had been since he’d hidden his secret?… If it’s outside, I’ll never find it.
But, impulsively, I stepped out on the front porch, catching my breath. I was sweating, my thoughts spinning wildly out of control.
Will Chrissy live? Did my brother kill Jenny? And where is that fucking trunk?
I considered the possibility that my brother had the trunk stored somewhere else, like a storage unit.
But, by now, the rent on a unit would have expired. I would have known if he had something like that, right?
If I wanted to hide something heavy and large like a trunk, where would I put it?
Lightning cracked the sky, and, in the distance, the barn lit up like a ghostly black shadow in the flash.
I thought about the loft in the top of the barn. The place where we hid so many times as children.
Determined, I took off across the field, certain the barn was where I’d find the truth.
Chapter Thirty
As I climbed the old ladder to the hay loft, I was certain this was the place. It was large enough to hold a trunk, and several more items if Jack had wanted to store them here.
But as I stood at the top of the ladder, wobbling dangerously, I was disappointed to see nothing but old bits of hay and fodder for the animals that used to live on the farm.
My heart fell.
There’s no path to the truth anymore.
Carefully, I descended the ladder, trying to fight off feelings of vertigo. Three steps down, I noticed something below on the floor of the barn. Bales of hay that looked perfectly normal, but there was something strange about them too. As I stared at them from the top of the ladder, I noticed something odd.
They were arranged in the pattern of an X.
My breath froze in my chest. Oh, Jack…
X marks the spot.
Chapter Thirty-One
The storm had knocked out the power lines, the old house an eerie silhouette from across the field.
Lightning cracked the night sky, rumbling the walls of the barn as I dug, my only light the dim, flickering lantern on the ground beside me.
I was sweating, face covered in dust, and my arms that were once throbbing with pain were now completely numb with exhaustion. Baring my teeth, I flung another mound of dirt and gravel to the side and slammed the shovel back into the earth.
The barn had always had a dirt floor … but it had been replaced with a layer of gravel before I moved in. I don’t know when Jack added the gravel, but it had to have been while I was away at college.
I was terrible with measurements—always had been—and I had no idea how far I’d dug. At least three, maybe four, feet? I stood back, leaning dizzily on the shovel, staring at the worthless hole in the ground. I’d kill for a glass of water right now.
At this rate, it would take me a week to dig up the floors in this barn. There was no real reason to believe I was right—those bales of hay could have been arranged that way for any number of reasons … by accident, perhaps? Or, even if Jack arranged them that way purposefully, it doesn’t mean there’s something below them…
My logic for choosing this spot now seemed stupid and faulty … in fact, this whole theory that what lay hidden was somewhere here in the barn felt off.
But I’ve come this far. I might as well go farther.
Wiping sweat from my brow, I looked around the entire barn space, trying to guesstimate how much ground there was to cover.
If I dig much deeper, I’ll reach the doors of Hell itself.
So be it, I thought, wearily.
The dusty lantern cast hazy shadows around the walls of the barn. I watched them dance, hypnotized by it, as pellets of rain drummed the roof of the barn like heavy artillery fire.
It’s like a war out there … no one I can trust, not my neighbors and certainly
