Page 43

ROWAN

By the time we catch up to Grayson and Violet, they’re crouched in a dense copse, half-shielded by low branches and undergrowth.

I drop beside them, breathing hard after a bus journey and a sprint.

Through the trees, a red sports car is parked close to the lodge with familiar plates and muddied wheel hubs. Sarah’s.

“Good. You’re here. We should talk to Sarah.”

Violet stands, and I grab her arm. “Wait. Think this through.”

She glares. “I have done nothing but wait while you and Leif traveled here. At least I did even though the woman is inside the lodge and prime for questioning.”

“And you told Dorian where you are?” asks Leif.

“Yes. Tracking spell.” Her lips thin.

Oh yeah, Violet was really not happy about that one.

“I left a message, but Dorian hasn’t returned my call.”

“Good. Rowan is right. We should watch and wait a little longer.”

“I persuaded Violet not to confront Sarah. We can wait until she leaves the lodge. Then, we decide what to do if Dorian hasn’t arrived.” Grayson pauses. “Although I might leave if he appears.”

“We require a car,” says Violet.

“Now?” I ask.

“Always. Why do none of you possess one?”

“I can drive, but I can’t afford one,” says Leif. “I drove Kai’s car the day of the lodge fire, remember?”

“Don’t look at me,” says Grayson. “Don’t need a car.”

“I can’t drive,” I add.

Violet’s brow furrows. “But Holly’s movies and shows depict all teens possessing cars. Are they difficult to drive? I shall ask Dorian for one.”

“Uh. And learn to drive?”

Hell, images of Violet behind the wheel leap into my mind, and I’m unsure I’d want to travel in a car she’s driving.

On the occasions he hasn’t traveled to and from the academy via magic, I’ve seen Dorian speed off after meetings in his black SUV, and I mean speed .

Neither he nor his daughter do anything slowly or carefully.

Violet merely shrugs. “Not owning a car hampers our investigations. We can never follow was a group.”

Sarah appears on the lodge doorstep, holding a leopard print suitcase by a long handle.

She’s wearing a black puffer jacket with dark denim jeans, her sleek brown hair captured in a ponytail beneath a white and red cap.

Sarah darts a look around, before approaching her car and hastily shoving the case into the trunk.

As she climbs into the driver’s seat, still holding her purse, I tense, waiting for the engine to start.

Violet moves. “No. She can’t leave.”

This time Grayson grabs her. “No. Wait. Listen.”

Sarah doesn’t turn on the engine, instead spending some minutes on the phone. A huffing Violet continues to watch the immobile woman.

“Now?” she suggests. “Nobody is answering her phone call.”

A black sedan with windows tinted almost black travels along the lane, then parks beside Mrs. Sawyer’s MG. A man climbs out, tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark suit and sunglasses. He wanders toward her car and leans down to the window Sarah opens.

“Witch,” I whisper. “Listen. They’re talking.”

Violet taps her lips, head slanted. “Sarah is upset because they’ve failed her. She’s unspecific as to how or who, and he’s apologizing on behalf of his organization.”

“Organization?” Leif’s lips purse. “The Circle?”

After a minute, the man leaves Sarah and moves to the car trunk. He pulls out the suitcase and transfers it to his.

“No!” says Violet, almost too loudly.

“He might only take the suitcase,” suggests Leif. “That might be why she hid them here?”

“No. He’s taking her .” Violet points as Sarah walks around to the passenger side of the sedan and climbs inside. “Sarah’s leaving. With her evidence! “We came here to talk to Sarah! Stop them. We can’t wait for my father.”

This time, it takes both Grayson and Leif to hold her back. “Violet.”

“Fine.”

But not fine.

Violet shoves the two guys aside and whips out her phone to take photos of Sarah and her companion, but the man’s face isn’t clearly visible.

Nobody else moves until the sedan slowly drives along the track from the lodge.

“Who the hell was that?” asks Leif. “Where is he taking her?”

“Wherever she’s going, Sarah left voluntarily,” I say.

“Maybe coerced?” suggests Grayson.

“We have the license plate to give to Dorian.” I gesture at Violet’s phone.

Violet remains quiet, and I brace myself for a furious outburst.

“I told you we needed a car,” retorts Violet. “We should follow!”

“We could use Sarah’s?” suggests Leif.

I snort. “Sarah’s car is distinctive, Leif. Someone would see us.”

“She wouldn’t leave the keys, anyway,” Grayson adds.

“We can soon discover, Rowan,” Violet yanks the door open. “Leif can drive if Sarah left her keys.”

Grayson climbs into the passenger seat and rifles through the glove box, and Leif squeezes inside to search the back seats.

“I have to say, I’ve never known anybody keep their car so clean,” Leif comments.

“Anything interesting?” I ask as I stand beside Violet by the open passenger door.

Grayson holds up a fancy pink water bottle. “This. A gym membership card, and a hairbrush.”

“Any documents at all?”

“Store receipts.”

He hands them to me, and I lean against the car as I flick through. “Groceries. Restaurant at the golf club. Oh. Wait.”

“What?” Violet grabs the one I’m studying.

I scowl at her. “That’s an ATM cash withdrawal. Five grand. Two days ago. Either someone is blackmailing Sarah, or she’s taken cash for her trip.”

“Especially as she left this.” Leif holds up a small burgundy leather purse with a subtle designer logo. “The one she climbed into the car holding.”

“Car keys?” asks Violet.

Leif tips the contents onto the seat beside him. “Nothing. Just a phone.”

I lean inside and take hold. Sarah left the phone switched on, but the screen shows SOS only.

“I think she removed the SIM card.” Violet looks at me blankly.

“A phone needs one, Violet.” Her puzzled look doesn’t leave.

“I don’t know the code to unlock the phone.

I’ll check if she did take the the SIM.”

I prise off the purple cover.

“If she removed the SIM, she’ll have wiped messages and calls too,” adds Leif.

I’ve known people to keep bank cards between the covers and their phones, but inside this one I discover cafe receipt folded into a tiny square.

Violet watches. “Is that the SIM card?”

“No.”

I unfold the paper and read the small, blue-inked handwriting on the back.

Beneath the floor again.

I sleep on the left.

“Again? Sarah must be the person who hid the box in the warehouse,” I say.

Grayson takes the paper from me. “How did Sarah have Madison’s tiara? Didn’t Madison wear the tiara the night she died?”

“Well, somehow it got into her possession and under the warehouse floorboards, because this note means Sarah’s hidden something else in the same way. For a reason.” Violet barely finishes her sentence before the space beside me empties.

And she’s gone again … At least she sprints into the lodge and doesn’t chase a moving car.