“There’s nothing here. There are no inscriptions and no secret compartments,” Grace said.
“Damn.” Elizabeth set down the lipstick and watched it roll across the table until it was stopped by the brush. “Oh my God, wait a sec.”
Elizabeth moved the three items around on the table like puzzle pieces. After trying a few different ways, she arranged them in a line, with the brush on the left side with its bristles facing down, the lipstick tube in the center, and the compact mirror on the right. “It’s a map.”
Grace looked hard, and Elizabeth pointed it out. “Start with the brush. See here on the face of it, there is a house, and then there is what I first thought was a river going from the house down the handle. But it’s not a river, it’s a path. You see here on the lipstick tube. If you put it longways against the handle, the path continues across the lipstick tube. And now here.” She pointed to the compact mirror. “The path lines up with the front side of the mirror and ends here at the cross.”
“I see it, but this doesn’t tell us where it is.”
“But it does. Look at the house. The pillars in the front, it’s the White Horse Plantation.”
Grace looked uncertain, and Elizabeth continued. “Now move down to the lipstick tube and see this row of homes. These are the slave quarters. From there, we move to the cross. There is an old slave graveyard in the back of the property, and there’s a single cross that still stands.”
“Okay,” Grace breathed out. “It’s a little surreal, but I see it.”
“I think we need to look at the cross.”
“I knew you would say that.”
“Grace, you don’t have to come. I can get the others to go with me.”
Grace’s only answer was a glare.
“Okay then, I guess we’re going back to the plantation.” Elizabeth removed her phone and took a picture of the three items that formed a silver map before she dropped them in the purse.
* * *
Grace carefully navigated the tree tunnel and pulled into the circular drive. To Grace’s amusement, Elizabeth sat quietly looking around in curiosity, as though she had never seen the place before. Elizabeth suggested that they drive separately to avoid being seen leaving the police station together, but Grace was uneasy about Elizabeth driving alone to the plantation, even though Grace would be meeting her. Elizabeth’s last adventure at the plantation with Beadle still sat heavily with her. Instead, Grace offered to pick her up at her home.
Exiting the car, Grace looked to the two-story antebellum mansion before turning to the expansive property. She couldn’t help but find it mind-boggling that the property remained as it did, untouched by the outside world.
“She is amazing isn’t she?” Elizabeth asked as she moved beside her.
“She?”
“That’s what Samuel calls her and it kind of stuck.”
Grace smiled at her, unsure of what to think of her friend Samuel. She moved closer to the home, but stopped short of the front steps and reached out to touch one of the columns. “I guess you’ve gotten to know this place pretty well.”
“Yeah, but I still get a chill every time I come here.” Elizabeth looked up to the second floor. “Did you remove the arsenal hidden upstairs?”
“No, I haven’t been back since the last time I found you here. It would be a little hard to explain how I suddenly came up with a stash of weapons that I found hidden in a secret room in a forgotten mansion.” Elizabeth turned to her with a look she couldn’t decipher. “What?”
“Then who closed the door?”
“What are you talking about?”
“When I came back here with Jack, we went up to Webb’s office on the second floor, but the door to the secret room was closed. I couldn’t figure out how to open it. I assumed you had come back and closed it.”
“Maybe it closed on its own.” At least Grace was hoping so because otherwise it meant someone else was here. “How did you get in the room in the first place?”
“The door was open just a bit. I didn’t even notice it at first.”
Grace debated with herself before she walked up the steps and approached the front door.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked.
“I need to see this room. I need to know if the weapons have been removed.” Grace squeezed the door handle and pushed, but it didn’t budge. “Damn, it’s locked.”
“No, it’s not. It just sticks.”
Grace was sure that she was going to pull out some burglar tool to pry her way in, but instead Elizabeth grabbed the handle and pushed, and the door gave way. Elizabeth walked in first and barely acknowledged the first floor and headed up the stairway.
However, Grace took it slow and admired the piece of history as she walked through it.
“Come on,” Elizabeth said as Grace fell behind. She was already at the top of the stairs while Grace still stood in the entry of the living room.
“All right, all right. Pushy aren’t ya.” Grace moved up the stairs and joined her, allowing Elizabeth to lead.
Elizabeth stopped in front of a room. “The only thing of note that I found here was a book with a half-written love letter inside.” Grace followed behind as Elizabeth led her to an adjoining sitting room. Elizabeth pointed to a small table. “There.”
Grace lifted the book using the bottom of her shirt, but internally chuckled because she figured Elizabeth’s prints were probably all over it. “To Kill a Mockingbird.” She opened to the page with the slip of paper and read the words that were passionate and aching at the same time. A sigh slipped from her before she checked herself and carefully tucked the paper back in for safekeeping. She looked to Elizabeth, who had been watching her, and she felt exposed.
“Show me the secret room.”
Grace followed behind Elizabeth around the hallway to a dark paneled room with a frame on the floor near the entrance surrounded by scattered glass. “The flag I take it.”
“Yup,” Elizabeth said as she walked over it, and Grace did the same. “Here’s where the door should be.” Elizabeth ran her hand along the paneling next to the ornate fireplace. Grace couldn’t help herself, and she started feeling along the mantel looking for a secret lever. Maybe she had seen too many movies, but it seemed anything was possible in this place.
“I’ve looked all over, and I can’t figure out how it opens.” Elizabeth walked over to the bookshelves and began removing them.
“Maybe it has a secret pass code. Abracadabra.” Grace waved her hands in front of the wall.
“Are you done yet?”
“Considering I’m talking nonsense to a wall, yes, I think I’m done.”
Elizabeth replaced the book in her hand and headed for the door. Grace started behind her but was stopped by a faint clicking sound. “Elizabeth, hold up.” She turned and saw the door slightly ajar.
“What did you do?” Elizabeth asked.
“I didn’t do anything. It just opened.”
Elizabeth walked into the small room and pulled out her cell phone for light. She peeled back the corner of a map on the wall. “This is where I found the pages from Booth’s diary. And in here is where the weapons are.” She moved to a wall opposite the secret door and opened the narrow wooden door.
Grace moved into the small space with her and took stock of the weapons lined against the wall. “This is a serious collection. It looks like it’s still here though.”
Elizabeth bent and extracted a long metal box and slowly opened it. Grace knelt beside her. “Looks like bullets.”
Elizabeth continued to stare inside the box.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.
“The grenade is missing.”
“The grenade?”
“Yes, there was a grenade in here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I held it in my hand.”
“You held a grenade?”
“Well, I didn’t know it was a grenade at the time. It was dark in here.�
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“Oh, even better.”
Elizabeth closed the box and slid it back against the wall.
“Who else knew about the weapons?” Grace asked.
“Danny and Camille were with me when I found them, and then there was Jack, but we couldn’t get into the room.”
“Are you sure you didn’t tell anyone else?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It’s possible that members of Webb’s…” Elizabeth hesitated as though trying to formulate the correct word, “organization are still around and knew about the stockpile.”
She should have confiscated the weapons when Elizabeth first told her about them.
“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked.
“Let’s get out of here,” Grace said and headed out of the secret room. “Leave the door open,” she said as Elizabeth was about to close the door to the room.
Grace waited for Elizabeth in the hallway and walked silently at her side as they exited the home. A part of her wished she hadn’t asked to see the room because with that knowledge came a responsibility—a responsibility to report the cache of weapons, and more importantly, the missing one. This would lead to an inquiry as to how she came to learn of the weapons, and that is what concerned her.
She pulled the front door tightly closed and began walking down the path to a row of smaller wooden structures. She hadn’t realized her pace until Elizabeth jogged to catch up and touched her arm. “Grace, honey, slow down.”
“I have to report the weapons.”
“And they’ll want to know how you found them,” Elizabeth finished.
Grace turned away and looked out over the land. She needed a moment to herself, and Elizabeth seemed to recognize that and walked to a set of steps that led to the first wooden shack and sat. Elizabeth’s long, graceful fingers played with a nail protruding from a stair. Her light brown hair caressed her face, accenting her deep blue eyes, and perfectly fell around her slender shoulders. Grace couldn’t help but watch her. There was no doubt that she was a beautiful woman. There was also no doubt that Grace would never be so foolish as to try to walk away again, the consequences be what they may when her boss and ADA Wilcox learned of their relationship.
“What are you smiling about?” Elizabeth asked, carefully watching her.
Grace wasn’t prepared to answer that question, so a diversion tactic was in order. “So what are these buildings?”
Elizabeth stood and faced the shack. “These were the slave quarters. On the map, they were the row of small homes on the lipstick tube.”
Grace still couldn’t get over the fact that the woman had a map engraved into her silver pieces. A piece of paper would have sufficed for most people. She was even more amazed at how Elizabeth put it together. She had stared at the contents of the purse both in person and in photos, and she never saw it. Elizabeth was remarkable both inside and out.
“What?” Elizabeth asked as she caught Grace staring.
“So the cross would be down this way,” she said, pointing down the path.
“Follow me.”
Grace gladly did so, watching Elizabeth walk as she went, and she didn’t notice much else until they reached a small opening in a wooded area that was surrounded by a handful of posts, most of which were no longer standing. A single cross stood near the middle with a mound of rocks piled in front.
Elizabeth pulled at her sleeve before she entered the small cemetery and directed her a few feet away. “Jack and I found this the last time we were here.” She bent and pulled on a metal handle, and Grace took over and opened the hatch door. “Jack said the slaves were put in here for punishment. I found a woman’s sweater at the bottom.”
Grace peered over the side. “You went down there? Jesus, Elizabeth, that was reckless and dangerous. What if the rope broke?” She took a breath in an attempt to calm herself. She didn’t want to start an argument, but she didn’t know how to get through to Elizabeth. “Please, Elizabeth, can you try to be a little more careful?” She didn’t know how to convey what Elizabeth had come to mean to her without sounding foolish or needy, so she left it at that.
Elizabeth moved closer and looked her in the eyes. “Yes.” She stroked Grace’s cheek before she turned back to the cemetery.
Grace touched the side of her face and swore she could still feel the warmth of Elizabeth’s hand. Suddenly feeling silly for her schoolgirl behavior, she caught up to Elizabeth, who was standing near the cross.
Grace kicked at a few shards of wood that were spread around the ground. “I wonder why this cross is still standing?” She looked to Elizabeth who remained silent, staring at the cross. She couldn’t read the look on her face and Grace moved to her. “What is it?” When she didn’t answer, Grace’s concern grew, and she reached out and caressed her arm. “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?”
“It says Samuel Harris on the cross.”
Grace looked at the name carved into the wood in block letters. Below it were the dates 1938–1963.
“It’s Samuel,” Elizabeth said barely over a whisper. A tear escaped down her cheek. “He was here. I spoke to him. He let me in and led me.” She nearly stuttered the words. “That’s how I found the room and Booth’s papers.” Grace couldn’t even pretend to understand, but didn’t doubt that Samuel was real, at least for Elizabeth, and that was enough for her.
“She wanted us to find his grave,” Elizabeth continued, never taking her eyes off the cross. “I never gave much thought as to why this cross was still standing when the others were in pieces. She must have added it.”
Grace couldn’t help but feel that there was more to it than just the grave and couldn’t believe she was about to say it. “I think we need to dig these rocks up and see if there is something else buried here.” That should have been Elizabeth’s line.
Elizabeth looked wary. It was clear that disturbing Samuel’s grave didn’t sit well with her, but she didn’t protest. Grace began moving the rocks, setting them in a neat pile to the side. She tried to show as much respect as she could in the process. When she neared the bottom, a corner of a wooden box protruded. Grace began hastily removing the rocks, not caring where they landed, and uncovered the box. Elizabeth knelt at her side and reached for it, but Grace pulled her arm back before she touched the box. “No, wait. Give me your scarf.” She motioned to the red scarf hanging around Elizabeth’s neck, a scarf she now knew well.
With the scarf acting as a barrier between her hands and the box, she lifted it out. It was the size of a toolbox with two rusted metal latches that blemished the wood below. They stepped out of the cemetery and returned to the step that Elizabeth previously occupied, neither saying a word.
Grace cradled the box in her lap and struggled to lift the latches. Using the scarf, she removed a corroded brass disk that consisted of two concentric circles that were secured together by a central pin in the middle. The larger circle was about two and a half inches in diameter and could fit in the palm of her hand. The inner circle was about an inch smaller in diameter and could turn around the central pin. Engraved on the circumference of both circles were the letters of the alphabet. In the center of the smaller circle, the letters CSA were written in script. Grace turned the inner circle, and each letter lined up with a different letter of the outer circle. “Looks like a decoding device, a fancier version than the one you’d find in a cereal box.” She turned it over to find the inscription “F. Labarre Richmond VA” on the backside.
She set the device on the step next to her and extracted a cracked black book that was bent to accommodate the box’s size. Thick yellowing pages filled the inside. She pulled open the book where a small silver key was wedged near the binding and left a distinct imprint of the key on the pages. It had an oval shaped head with a series of numbers imprinted on one side, but was otherwise nondescript.
“Any idea where this goes?” Grace asked. Elizabeth leaned in for a better view, and she could feel her hair tickle the side of her face and inhaled its soft, sweet fragrance.
/> “No. What’s in the book?” Elizabeth asked.
What book? Oh, right, the book. Grace used the scarf to thumb through the pages, and though the ink was faded, she could see that it was filled with neatly printed letters in random order that formed nothing more than nonsensical words. “This is just gibberish.”
“No, it’s encrypted,” Elizabeth said and pointed to the brass disk.
“Of course it is.” Grace knew she shouldn’t be surprised with WHITE DEMON a phone number, the Booth pages in KGC code, and a map engraved into silver pieces. Why would these pages be in simple English? She turned to the back of the book where several folded pages were tucked inside. As she opened them, they cracked in disapproval at the disturbance. She was pleased to find that the typewritten pages were legible and even better, in English. “This I can read.”
With her interest piqued, Grace nearly tore the top paper trying to turn the page with the scarf. “Damn it. I have some gloves in the car. Let’s wait on this.” Elizabeth didn’t protest, which concerned her some because she knew that patience was not her strong suit.
Grace picked up the box to redeposit the book and heard something slide across the wooden surface. “There is something else in here.” She pulled out an oval locket on a broken silver chain. She fumbled with the locket, trying to pry it open with the scarf, and it popped out of her hands and landed in the dirt at the base of the stairs. Elizabeth jumped to retrieve it, and before Grace could issue a warning, she used the bottom of her shirt to pick it up. She’s learning.
The thinner material of the shirt allowed Elizabeth’s fingers to be more nimble, and she popped open the locket and held it between them. The picture inside was small, and time and the elements had been unkind, making it difficult to decipher, at least Grace thought so.
“It’s Samuel.”
“How can you be sure? You can barely see him.”
Secrets of the Last Castle Page 20