“Come on, or I’ll find the map first,” Leila taunted before turning around. She slinked toward the house, taking cover behind the trees.
The others followed her one by one over the fence and across the lawn. The four of them gathered behind the bushes in front of the dark house, giggling and snorting in amusement of their own lunacy.
Xander rolled his eyes at them and left their hiding place, taking the lead. He led them down a short flight of concrete steps and brought them to a door to the basement of the mansion. Shoulders straight, he strode to the number pad by the door and punched in a code.
After a quiet buzz and a click, he eased the door open. With one foot inside, he put a finger to his lips. They all nodded soberly and filed into the dark basement. The scent of sawdust filled Leila’s nostrils as they entered a workshop. Shelves full of hand tools, cans of paint, and scraps of wood lined the walls. Xander waved for them to follow and, using the light of his flashlight, led them from the room into an empty hallway. He seemed to know exactly where to go, heading straight for one of the doors. He nudged it open, and they gathered in the doorway to look.
Leila gasped. “It’s like a museum!”
“Quiet,” Xander hissed and crept into the room.
Leila wandered away from the others and explored the rows of shelving. Could all of this be real? There were Greek vases, paintings, Celtic statues, helmets, and countless Egyptian relics. She stopped and inspected an entire suit of armor. The metal had lost its shine long ago, but otherwise it was in perfect condition. She reached up to run her fingertips along the cool, smooth surface. Before she could touch it, the lights flipped on.
The screech of an alarm exploded into the storage room.
Squinting, Leila whirled around, her hands over her ears. Someone tugged at her arm as the others raced from the room. She chased them back to the workshop where they hustled each other toward the exit.
As they scrambled outside, every light in the house flickered on. Silhouettes flitted from window to window.
Leila slipped on the dewy grass and stumbled, sobbing, the rest of the way to the fence, daggers twisting in her ankle.
“Wait!” she screamed at Xander as he jumped down to safety. “Help me!” At that moment, the sound of vicious barking came from behind her.
From the other side of the fence, Xander watched as she struggled up the fence, searing pain shooting up her leg any time she tried to use her left foot. She latched onto the top bar as the dog’s teeth sank into her foot. The animal twisted and jerked until the canvas of her shoe gave way to the sharp incisors. She looked through the fence, crying for help.
Xander had vanished.
She was on her own.
The next two minutes were spent hanging onto the fence for dear life, her foot aching and bleeding. Someone came out of the mansion to assess the situation then finally called the dog away.
An hour later, Leila was taken, handcuffs and all, in the back of a police car, even though she overheard the owner of the home, Mr. Weston, assure the police nothing had been stolen. He even agreed not to press charges as long as she paid for any damages.
At two in the morning, her father arrived at the police station to pick her up. If only she could disappear into the floor. Never had she seen such an expression of anger and disappointment on his face before. Not even when one of the students broke an artifact during the dig.
• • •
The next day, Leila stayed home from class. There was no way she could face the others. Jade had been taking pictures and certainly wouldn’t have left out any juicy details. And Xander, if he was smart, wouldn’t be there either. How would she ever look at his face again without wanting to punch it? The fact he ran off without helping her hurt more than the four stitches on her foot.
Mid-morning, she finally left her room to find some aspirin. As she limped down the stairs, her foot painfully swollen under the bandages, a small package on the table near the front door caught her eye.
Her father had scrawled her first name over the brown parcel paper. She ripped it open to reveal a small book inside.
Seriously?
She pursed her lips and dropped the book back on the table. A Bible? After the argument with her dad before he left for class, she didn’t need him to preach to her. Forgetting the Bible, she hobbled into the kitchen and banged the cabinet doors as she searched for the painkillers.
For the rest of the morning and afternoon, raindrops pattered against the windows. Clouds slowly turned from gray to black. Afternoon turned into evening.
She lay in bed, passing the time with her nose between the pages of a thick novel when a knock rapped on the front door. She ignored it. Served him right for forgetting his keys. What was he doing out so late anyway? Meeting the girl he’d been texting, maybe.
The knocking persisted.
With a sigh, she dragged herself from the bed and hobbled downstairs to open the door. Instead of her father, a policeman waited on the porch.
Great. Her eyes welled up with tears. She was in trouble again.
Her worry escalated to panic as the officer grimly told her about the accident.
The policeman gave her a ride to the hospital where she was greeted by the doctor. His face was somber as he admitted to her that the prognosis was not good. Feeling weak and broken, she found a seat and did her best to retain her composure.
“How did it happen?” she asked with a shaking voice.
“The police said the driver hit a deer and then lost control of the car,” the doctor explained. “The driver is also unconscious and in serious condition. We won’t know for sure until we bring him out of a medically induced coma.”
“The driver?” Leila furrowed her brow and glanced up at the doctor. “You mean Dad wasn’t driving?”
“No, he was the passenger,” he confirmed.
She shook her head, trying to make sense of what the doctor was saying. “Who was driving then?”
“A young man, Alexander Harrison.”
• • •
“Dad died three days later.”
Leila and Emma sat on the bottom bunk in heartbroken silence. A minute went by before another word was spoken.
