The Sinners - Ruby Vincent Page 0,81

the vest because he wasn’t Royal if he wasn’t masking human emotion under ten layers of anger, raw masculinity, and a pathological need to wind me up.

After finishing our food, it was back on the road for the final leg to Earnshaw Lake. Memories unfolded as my surroundings became familiar. Happy memories because I blocked out the rest. Eli and I paddling on the lake. Dad teaching me to fish. Me wandering aimlessly along the bank. The Thanksgiving celebrations with kind neighbors looking for more family like we were.

Pavement gave way to dirt road. We were almost there. The trees closing in and familiar scent of pine left me certain.

I pointed out community mailboxes sticking up at the bend. “Turn there. Our place is forty-six.”

Royal turned off as directed, rumbling up the incline to the home near the end of the road. The police tape made it easy to spot.

We parked in my old driveway. The lake house was just how I remembered it. A river stone chimney stack rose half as high as the trees. The screened-in porch wrapped entirely around the house, basking in remembrance of little socked feet running around. Windows made up most of the structure. Looking through, I saw the old armchair Dad used to watch television in and the kitchen where Mom taught Eli to make blueberry pancakes.

“Ember?”

I shook myself. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Where do we start?”

“There’s a shed in the back. Also, the attic and crawlspace.”

“Those places scream hiding spot,” Royal said. “The feds would have been all over them. Your parents were smart. They’d have known that. They put that line in the note. They left the key at the cemetery. They’re not making it obvious, so think like them, Ember. Where would they hide something that they know only you would find?”

“Only me,” I whispered. “Only me.”

My gaze traveled up to the second floor. “My room. There was a loose floorboard under my bed. I wrote notes and hid them in there, imagining that a hundred years from now another little girl would find and read them.”

“Your parents knew about this?”

“Yes. Dad bought me pretty stationary so the letters would be nice. This key is small. Maybe what it opens is small too.”

“Let’s check it out.”

The front door lock was replaced. A minor issue as I didn’t have the key for the old one either, so we knew we’d have to deal with this. Royal picked the lock with such ease I seriously wondered if my two-year no-sex streak was because my lady boners only got it up for bad-boy criminal types. I lost my virginity to a car thief and all of my boyfriends were in a gang, so the evidence was strong.

“Where would I be if I had regular, buttoned-up boyfriends who held my doors open and gave me flowers on our two-week anniversary?” I asked as we walked inside.

“Bored out of your skull.”

I inclined my head. “Fair enough.”

Royal looked around. “Nice place.”

He was being sarcastic. The authorities that blew through our home clearly never heard of putting things back or closing a drawer after opening it. Our board games were scattered on the rug. Mom’s hutch where she kept her antiques was bare and one of the doors hung askew off a broken hinge. A thick layer of dust coated everything.

Royal followed me upstairs to the second door on the left. My room was simple. A full-sized bed, armoire, desk. Everything else was carted out with the rest of the valuables. The walls were warm wooden panels painted white, and decorating them were a few of my favorite bands.

Royal immediately began taking down the posters. Hugging him from behind, I buried my face in his back. “Thank you for being here with me. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I doubt that. You don’t need me. You’re stronger than that.”

I hung on a little longer, soaking in his warmth.

Royal finished with the posters. I let him go to grab the bedpost and push it back.

This was it. My bed wasn’t moved. The rug beneath was undisturbed. The feds didn’t look under my floorboards like Dad knew they wouldn’t. Eli was right. Whatever they wanted me to find was here.

Dropping to my knees, I threw back the rug. I took a deep breath, held it long and deep as I lifted the board and—

My breath whooshed out in a flood of disappointment. Tucked beneath the wood lay a dozen pink envelopes, dusty and curled by age. I pushed them