One of the real stones had a different pattern, the difference subtle. What kind of plan had they used when they had taken the citadel apart and then put it back together again? Had a tired stonemason plastered some stones in the wrong place?
“Is this it?” I touched the stone in the painting, for the first time recognizing the uniqueness of its carvings. “Does this hide something?”
A strand of my hair pulled like someone had given it a gentle tug.
“You saw that right?” I whispered.
“Oh, yeah,” Coop said, his voice as soft as mine.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the stone in the painting, then stepped back, so I could see the entire fireplace better.
As I scanned the bricks, I remembered the large Lego sets the boys used to get for their birthdays and Christmas. They had been meticulous at assembling the projects according to the instructions. They’d made the mistake of taking them apart and letting them get mixed in with the rest of the Lego pieces.
I shivered, and Coop put his arm around my shoulders. “What?” he asked.
“We have to findthatstone.” Somewhere, mixed among all the artistically placed carved stones in the citadel, was Sir Hugh’s missing Lego piece.
