“Think we’ll get anything?” Liam asked as he and Dallas met up with Logan in the hall.
“I think he was telling the truth. The Wolf is smart about only sending those out to kill who can kill,” Dallas said. “Garcia, a killer? No way. The Wolf goes for the cold-blooded kind. Like the guy who came after us on the bridge. He was ready to kill or be killed. The odd thing is, I don’t think the Wolf cared whether we were killed on that bridge or not.”
“No?” Dallas asked.
“What he wants is to get inside the house. He knew the accident might not go his way, but he figured even if we weren’t killed or in the hospital, we’d be so wiped out by getting hit, then all the follow-up with the cops, that once we got back we’d be out like lights. Maybe even on painkillers to help us sleep. Meanwhile, he would have come in through the door Garcia left open and hidden somewhere, so once we were asleep he could look around for the treasure to his heart’s content.”
“And then most likely kill us all,” Logan finished.
“Maybe,” Dallas said. “Or maybe he just wanted to get into the house and our fates didn’t matter one way or the other. The Wolf steals art and artifacts. The only time someone dies is was when they cross him or he wants to send a warning, or they’re in his way or have something he wants. The people on the salvage boat disappeared. But Jose was only killed because he had infiltrated the gang, and maybe because the Wolf thought Jose was close to discovering something about the Wind and the Sea.”
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Logan said. “Why does he think the treasure’s at Hannah’s place? It was never there, right?”
“There are no records to show that it was ever stored at the house,” Dallas agreed.
“Records can be missing or misleading,” Liam said.
“We have to find it,” Dallas said.
“Yes,” Logan said. “And the Wolf.”
“But,” Logan said, “if we can find the treasure—or even make Los Lobos think we have—we just may be able to trap the Wolf.”
*
Valeriya was in Captain Chandler’s room, the room where Dallas was staying.
She was on the floor, looking disoriented. Kelsey rushed in ahead of Hannah, gun at the ready, prepared for anything. Valeriya saw the gun and let out another high-pitched scream.
“Valeriya!” Hannah cried, hurrying forward to help the girl, who was trying to get up. “What happened?”
Valeriya pointed at the bed. “I—I pulled the sheet, but it caught under the mattress and I slammed against the wall and fell down.”
“Did you hit your head? Are you hurt?” Hannah asked her.
Kelsey slid her weapon back into the waistband of her trousers, snug against the small of her back, and joined Hannah to help Valeriya to her feet.
“I’m okay,” Valeriya said. “I’m sorry I screamed like a baby.”
“You sure did,” Hannah agreed, laughing. “But that’s okay.”
“Let’s get you downstairs, so you can have something to drink and sit a minute—make sure you’re all right,” Kelsey said.
“Thank you, but I’m okay.”
“You may need to go to the hospital, just to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” Kelsey said.
“No, no, I’m okay, just...raffled,” Valeriya said.
“Rattled,” Hannah explained to Kelsey.
Kelsey smiled. “Raffled is good, too.”
Hannah smiled, then was distracted when she realized Valeriya had slammed against the wall harder than she’d thought. False brick—really just a plaster overlay—had been applied across a section of the wall at one point, and now bits of it were chipping off.
“Kelsey, I’m going to finish making up the room. Can you help Valeriya?”
“Sure.”
“No, no, I will finish cleaning,” Valeriya insisted.
“No, you will sit down and make sure you’re okay,” Hannah told her, then walked to the hall closet to get the broom.
Back in the bedroom, Hannah struggled to move the heavy captain’s bed away from the wall so she could sweep up all the plaster that had fallen. When she was done, she paused for a moment, then pushed the bed back.
The walls had been painted over the years, but she had no idea when the false brick had been added. The style had been popular during the late 1700s through the mid-1800s, so presumably it had been there awhile.
She would have to get Bentley in to repair it, she thought. He was used to working with plaster and knew the old wooden houses in the Keys like few other men. This would be a tricky job. There was actually a notch out of the wall, almost as if the false brick had been hollow.
She started to turn away but then turned back. Something wasn’t right; she had just caught it in her peripheral vision.
She was trying to move the bed away from the wall again when Kelsey came back.
“You okay up here?” Kelsey asked. “What in the hell are you doing?”