Page 33 of The House That Held Her

She stares at me, waiting for me to continue.

“When I pulled up the board, I found this black plastic film canister, like the kind we used to take to have developed. Inside that canister was a piece of paper–with a treasure map drawn on it.”

She blinks, obviously caught off guard. “A treasure map.”

I let out a weak laugh. “I know, it sounds insane, but it’s true. It was hand-drawn and had a stereotypical X near this body of water, with streets that looked a lot like Mount Dora. So I poked around a little, and I found it. I found the chest. I dug it up myself and everything. Then I paid a guy who runs a boat touring company to help me take it across the lake so I could get it into my car and bring it back to the house.”

Her face shifts from confusion to alarm. “Margot, wait–youdug upa chest–”

I push on, wanting to get it all out before I lose my train of thought. “Once I had it inside, I had to find the key; the chest had this big, thick lock on it. Long story short, I uncovered a hidden room behind a bookcase in the house and inside that room, I found the key that opened the lock. When I finally got it open…” I pause, feeling nauseous just thinking about it. “I found sixteen human skulls.”

Shannon’s mouth falls open, but she doesn’t speak, so I keep going. “I freaked out and went to the police. I told them what I had found, but when we got there, the skulls were gone. Not the chest; that was still there. But the skulls themselves, they had been removed.”

I feel a tear run down my face. “The cops didn’t believe me, of course, and I can’t fault them for that. But instead of considering the possibility that Icouldbe telling the truth, they basically chalked it up to a hallucination. But Iknowit wasn’t a hallucination, I know what I saw, what I… smelled. And so, I figured if there were sixteen skulls, maybe there were sixteen missing people. That’s why I went hunting for missing-persons cases in Mount Dora. That’s how I found Michael Lark and ended up at Penny’s house.”

At first, she’s silent. Then the anger surfaces. “Are you—Margot, do you realize how dangerous this all is? You’ve been playing detective with potential serial murders, for God’s sake! You call me out here for a ‘missing persons case’ and then spring this on me?” Her voice rises, and she’s half-shouting. “What if something happened to you? Have you even thought about that? Nate would return and have no clue where you were or why you were in this mess at all!”

My chest tightens. “I know, I know. But Shannon, I didn’t go looking for this! I didn’t ask to find that map. But once I did, it felt like fate… like some sort of opportunity to… to do something with my life, to be valuable again. Even if for nothing but a silly treasure hunt. What else was I going to do in that house all alone? Ever since Lila, I–“

“Stop,” Shannon snaps, cutting me off. “You found actual human remains, Margot. You know approximatelyzeropeople in this fucking town, drawing all sorts of attention to yourself, have had multiple interactions with police already, and are a potential suspect in a murder case. And now I’m here, representing you,justlearning about this right now!”

Tears prick my eyes. It had been a long time since Shannon yelled at me like this. “I’m sorry. I never meant to keep you in the dark. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. Once Chief Miller sprung the Penny Lark death on me, I knew I was officially in over my head. I’m so sorry.”

She presses a trembling hand against her forehead, exhaling hard. “Jesus, Margot.”

The car grows quiet except for the hum of the tires. My vision blurs with tears, and I blink them away. I know I screwed up. I know how badly I messed things up by not telling her.

After several heartbeats, Shannon’s voice softens. “Look, I’m furious and terrified and so worried for you. But I believe you. And I’m going to help you figure this out.” She shifts, turning to face me more directly. “But once we do, you’re coming back to Maryland with me. You hear me? I don’t care what’s going on with Nate or Hawthorn Manor or anyone else. You’re walking away from this town.”

A shaky laugh escapes me. “Really? Just… pack up and leave? But I only just got here.”

She flicks me off. “Don’t test me. I’m more stubborn than you, and I’ll physically haul you out if I have to.”

Relief mingles with lingering fear, but at least I don’t feel alone anymore. Shannon’s always been the fiercest protector I’ve ever known. “All right,” I whisper. “Let’s get out of this mess. Then I’ll go with you.”

“Damn straight, you will” she replies.

I manage a small smile. “So, we need a plan. We don’t know what Marty knows—or if he’s involved—but he did leave Mount Dora. That’s got to mean something. Maybe he’s distant enough from it all that he’ll talk.”

Shannon nods, her gaze distant as if she’s mentally composing a strategy. “We start slow. Mention Hawthorn Manor, watch his reaction. If he’s out of the loop, he might still know stories about George Hawthorn from back then. And if he does know something big, we definitely don’t want him to clam up. We can’t spook him.”

I sigh, my grip tightening on the wheel. “Right. So, no immediate talk of… you know. The skulls.” My stomach flutters at the thought. “You think he’s part of it?”

She shakes her head, her expression conflicted. “Hard to say. If he left town, maybe it’s because he wanted no part in whatever’s happening. Or he might’ve seen something he shouldn’t have. Either way, we need to approach carefully.”

I nod, forcing myself to focus on the road. Despite the tension, having Shannon here steadies me. She always has a plan.

We finally spot the big box store, “Optimum Office Super Store,” looming right in the middle of a strip mall. It’s a huge, nondescript building with bright fluorescent letters on the sign hugged on either side by a discount furniture store and a fabric store.

After parking near the entrance, I take a moment to collect myself. “We can do this,” I whisper under my breath, more to convince myself than anything.

Inside, the buzz of overhead lights mixes with the sound of scanning registers. A young greeter offers a halfhearted welcome, which I barely register. Shannon and I head straight for the customer service desk, where a woman with vibrant red hair looks up from her computer.

“Can I help you?” she asks, smiling politely.

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re looking for Marty Hughes. I believe he’s the manager?”

She picks up a phone and pages him over the intercom. A few moments later, a tall man with graying hair steps out from the back. His name tag confirms he’s Marty. He flashes a warm smile, coming over to greet us.

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