Page 35

The air smelled of woodsmoke and winter. The hard rain had turned to feathery-soft snow, and the snow was starting to stick. Ellery eyed it uneasily. A little snow would be nice and cozy. A lot of snow would be a huge problem and probably mean cancelling Saturday night’s housewarming party.

When he reached the back garden, he found Watson running up and down the length of the house, snuffling the frozen ground and barking excitedly.

Ellery felt a flicker of alarm, but wasn’t it far more likely some small creature like a squirrel or a raccoon was hoping to take up residence for the winter? More likely than, say, a dangerous mental hospital escapee was trying to...

What?

Burrow under the house in search of a secret entrance?

Of course, that didn’t mean such an entrance couldn’t exist. In fact, there was a strong possibility there was another point of entry somewhere on the grounds. It was a very large house. It had a lot of secrets.

Ellery followed the path Watson was cutting through the browned and dormant flower beds. He was searching for any sign that someone had walked this way recently, but there were no prints in the sodden ground, no crushed plants, no smooshed grass.

Of course not. Because Edwin Dolph was floating somewhere in the surf beneath Skull House.

It was a grim thought.

Ellery whistled to Watson, but Watson remained intent on whatever he imagined he was about to corner beneath the house. So Ellery walked on, trusting that Watson would soon follow after.

A few feet from the wood pile, he stopped in his tracks. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The hatchet he had used to split the kindling the day before, the hatchet he had left lodged in the low tree stump, was gone.

“What the...”

Slowly, he walked up to the stump and stared down. Beneath the light dusting of snow, he could see the deep groove where the hatchet was usually wedged. There was no hatchet.

He took a step back and circled the stump. He walked up and down the woodpile, walked a few feet out. There was no sign of the hatchet.

Ellery let out a long breath. He pulled his phone out and called Jack’s cell.

“Hey,” Jack said. “How’s it going?”

“Well, it’s going okay,” Ellery said slowly.

“Oscar, Freddie, and Belle make it safely?”

“Belle’s flight was canceled, but Oscar and Freddie are here at the house.”

Jack’s tone changed. “Everything okay? You sound a little...”

“This is probably nothing.”

“Okay,” Jack said cautiously.

“But you know the hatchet we use to chop kindling? The one we keep stuck in the stump next to the woodpile? It’s gone.”

“It’s gone,” Jack repeated. There was no particular inflection in his tone.

“I know I left it out here. But there’s no sign of it now.”

Jack made a thoughtful sound.

“I didn’t put it in the garden shed and forget about it. I didn’t carry it into the house with the kindling. It was definitely here yesterday.”

“Okay.”

“We don’t have any neighbors to borrow tools without asking. I know an owl didn’t carry it off. So, what happened to it?”

“I’m not sure.”