“Because,” he said, “the property was rebuilt underground.”
Wyatt frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Beckett looked directly at me.
“It means there is a secured room beneath the ruins.”
“What kind of room?”
The detective hesitated.
“A medical laboratory.”
My grandfather had been a property developer.
Not a doctor.
Not a scientist.
There was no reason for him to own a hidden laboratory beneath an abandoned warehouse.
Unless Davis Development had never been only a real-estate company.
Unless the money, the forged papers, the stolen medicine, and even my grandfather’s death were connected to something far larger than our family.
I gripped Wyatt’s hand.
For the first time, I wondered whether my parents had attacked me to steal my inheritance—
or to stop me from discovering what my grandfather had buried beneath the city.
PART 3
THE LABORATORY BENEATH THE ASHES
The message arrived at 6:17 p.m.
COME ALONE, SADIE. BRING THE KEY. OR YOUR SISTER DIES.
