Page 146 of The Darkest Hour

“Suicide letter.” He handed it to me.

“Well, that was nice of him.” I took the letter from Havoc’s hands, noting the careful scrawl of handwriting.

To my disappointment, there were only three lines.

I read it out loud, “If you find this island, do not tell my wife and children. Burn it all to the ground.”

Havoc went over to the shelves of books and gazed at them. “Not much of a talker. Was he?”

“Not at all.” I let the paper fall from my hands, watching as it softly landed on the polished mahogany.

The man's last wish, now left to us—a couple of accidental islanders—to fulfill or discard.

“There must be something more.” I brushed my fingertips over the smooth desk surface, feeling for any hidden compartments or secret cubbies.

Havoc continued to scour through the room. “Are you hoping to find more letters. Perhaps, some in a handful of crisp envelopes tied with black ribbons. And in them are all his tormented words penned down with an elegant hand.”

I went through the drawers.

All of them were empty.

Havoc continued, “And the letters would all be about his tales of remorse and redemption—of battling inner demons that proved harder to overcome.”

“Well. . .at least a fucking passport or something.”

“The man was evil, and he did evil things here. And. . .he was probably filthy rich which means that he wants all of his sins to die with him.” Havoc picked up one book and then set it back down. “The worst thing that could happen to a rich man besides becoming poor, is losing the purity of his reputation.”

I grimaced, thinking of the children’s graves outside. “A reputation can't be much if you've got a body count.”

“All the more reason to keep it hushed. If it’s one thing that letter did say. . .his family has no idea that this island even exists. Which means only a few people would.”

“Like who?”

“Estate manager or private lawyer. This man would keep a tight-knit circle that is bound by secrecy, either through legal means, financial incentives, or fear of repercussions, ensuring that the existence of this property and its dark history remains hidden.”

“And would that person come looking here?”

Havoc thought about it for a second and then smiled. “Eventually.”

That gave me a bit of hope.

“However. . .” Havoc shrugged. “We don’t know how long it would be, and if this guy was a true bastard. . .the lawyer or estate person may not even care enough to check. Just wait the required time to declare a missing person dead, which is like. . .I don’t know five to seven years.”

All that hope disappeared.

Havoc watched my reaction. “But. . .”

“What?”

“He had to get on the island. So. . .how did he get here?”

That was enough to keep me ready to push forward. “Okay. Good point.”

“And,” Havoc gestured to the lamps and light switches. “Before we went inside, I spotted solar panels on the roof so we will have electricity no matter what.”

We spent the next hour searching the rest of the chateau.

The whole place was just as grandiose as the outside.

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