Page 95

Silently, he guides me through the blood-red hallway and down the winding staircase. The sound of laughter filters in from the room where everyone is gathering as he leads me to yet another door. Beyond it lies a much narrower staircase, descending into what appears to be the abyss.

Something catches my eye, and I startle when I see an old woman staring back at me from the shadows of the hallway. I blink for a moment and gasp, wondering if I’m not looking at a ghost. I freeze as she steps forward and reaches for a lock of my hair, then reaches for my face.

She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them again; her pupils dilate as she runs her fingers down my skin. “Diana, is that you?”

Lincoln grabs her hand and rubs it with his thumb, pulling her fingers off my face as I stand there stunned. “Lucy, this is Summer, Diana’s granddaughter.”

She quirks her brows in a moment of confusion, then she nods and smiles at Lincoln as if coming back into this decade. “Of course. Nice to meet you, Summer. I’m glad Lincoln found a nice girl.” She carries on through the dark hall, humming, as if that wasn’t the strangest encounter.

“That’s Lucy, our housemaid,” Lincoln says, as I flinch. “She can get a tad confused sometimes. Don’t pay her any mind.”

I follow the shadows from where she disappeared. She’s gone again as quickly as she came. “She knew my grandmother?”

He leads me down the dark stairwell into the depths of this house; the boards creaking as we head down into the abyss and a soft draft hits my face.

“Lucy’s been the housemaid for a very long time. She knew both of your grandparents, and your father as well, while he studied here.”

As we descend into darkness, my phone vibrates in my tiny purse I’ve managed not to lose. I grab it and scroll to Dani’s message.

Dani: I just got in here, where are you?

Okay…she’s in. The rest is up to her, and she can have fun with Xander and doing whatever it is she has planned.

I quickly power off my phone as I reach the bottom step and place it back in my purse. I don’t want any distractions right now. I regret not responding to Dani, but I’m sure she will figure out soon enough who I’m with.

Lincoln pushes the door open and we step inside, and I look around. The room is a beautiful blend of antique and contemporary elements. Its soft lighting and plush carpeting make it very cozy. A modern fireplace stands alongside pillars that separate the sitting area from a desk and a large chair. The scent in the room reminds me of him, sophistication and elegance. Or perhaps it’s the candles he has lit by his desk and on a shelf above his work area.

On the other side of the partition, I glimpse his four-poster bed with those dark sheets I’ve seen during our video call. It’s the only part of the room that I’ve seen through the lens of a camera. The same one he had that girl tied up on before he killed her.

The police haven’t picked up on the thread that Cali is dead. She’s been missing for weeks, and everyone has given up on finding her.

A hint of a draft teases my bare legs and my head whips around, but there are no windows that I can see.

A sharp pang hits my stomach, and I wrap my arms around my prickled flesh, thinking of what must have been a very intimate moment between the three of them.

“I’ve lived in this basement for as long as I can remember,” Lincoln says, interrupting my train of thought as he moves and hovers over his desk, fussing with the mouse on his computer as if he’s been down here fretting over his research all night. Papers are strewn about like he was recently in deep thought and soft music plays from speakers in the ceiling.

Timeless music. Classical strings and piano.

It’s lovely and soft.

He was hiding down here, not partying with everyone else. This shouldn’t surprise me, given how hard he works every single day. His obsession with his work rivals his obsession with me.

At least I think he’s obsessed with me…

I walk over to his dresser and look around. His personal belongings are minimal—no trinkets, no photos, nothing to indicate a healthy childhood. “This was your bedroom?” I ask him.

His warm hands startle me as he wraps them around my midsection. “Ever since Dr. Garcia adopted me. But I have little recollection of anything before that. My memories began here.”

“Do you consider her your mother?” She took him in, took care of him, even adopted him, but I don’t get the motherly vibe from her.

“No. I don’t consider anyone to be my mother. Not in the way you think.”

I look up at him and blink. “Not even your real mother?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not really.” I try to find any hint of emotion in his eyes, remembering what Xander said, and I don’t push the subject.

Instead, I huff. “And Dr. Garcia put you down here in a windowless basement?” It’s not like there aren’t enough bedrooms upstairs. This house is big enough to have at least six bedrooms.