“You should arrive before sunrise,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because that is what Carl requested.”
“That isn’t good enough.”
His expression changed. For the first time, his professional calm slipped.
“Miss Hale, there are truths people hide because they are ashamed. Others they hide because telling them would place someone in d/@/nger. Carl’s truth may have been both.”
“Is someone going to hurt me?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“You don’t believe so?”
He stood and walked toward the window.
“Mr. Whitmore spent thirty years preparing for almost every possible outcome. Your visit to the cabin was the only part he could not control.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the moment you open that chest, the decision becomes yours.”
I left his office before he could offer another carefully incomplete answer.
The rain had stopped, but the streets shone beneath the lamps. I walked without direction until I found myself standing outside St. Agnes.
