He opened his mouth, but no answer came.
“Who are they?”
“Open the chest,” he said.
Anger surged through me.
“Stop saying that!”
My voice echoed through the cabin.
Daniel lowered his head.
“I’m sorry. But Carl believed the truth had to come from him.”
“He’s not here.”
“In the chest, part of him is.”
I stared at him, breathing hard.
Then the first sunlight appeared across the lake.
A golden beam entered through the window and fell onto the floor beneath the dining table.
There, almost invisible beneath a faded rug, was the outline of a square wooden panel.
Daniel and I moved the table aside. I rolled back the rug.
The floorboard had a tiny brass keyhole.
My hand shook as I inserted the antique key.
The lock turned with a soft click.
Beneath the panel was a narrow hollow space. Inside sat a dark wooden chest reinforced with iron bands. It was not large—perhaps two feet wide—but lifting it required both of us.
