Exposure (37 page)

“Gimme facts.” Ben was at the wheel. “I wanna know what we’re getting into.”

We’d crossed James Island and were driving northeast up Ashley River Road, about fifteen miles beyond downtown Charleston. Civilization slowly fell away—the Explorer cruised through a dense forest of magnolias and live oaks, which hugged the road on both sides, creating a tunnel effect.

No sound. Little movement outside the confines of our packed SUV.

The surrounding woods had a creepy, claustrophobic feel, as if the trees intended to keep all human life confined to the narrow two-lane blacktop knifing through their domain. Though the forest had a cold aesthetic beauty, the area didn’t give off a friendly vibe. I couldn’t imagine anyone living out here.

Shelton read from his iPhone. “Drayton Hall is a classic eighteenth-century Ashley River plantation in the heart of the Lowcountry.
Blah blah blah.
” He began skimming the description. “A marvelous example of Palladian architecture . . . survived both the Revolutionary and Civil Wars . . . National Historical Landmark. The seven-bay double-pile plantation house was built by John Drayton in the late 1730s . . . completed in 1742 . . . using both free and slave labor.
Ugh.
C’mon, man. Slaves?”

“Forget the house,” Ben advised. “What about the grounds?”

“Don’t rush me.” Shelton scrolled his cell. “Six hundred and thirty acres. The plantation grew rice and indigo. The estate’s been kept in pretty good shape, although some of the oldest buildings are gone. The phosphate mine was close to the river.”

“That’s our focus,” I said. “Old phosphate nodules probably aren’t scattered over all six hundred acres.”

“There!” Hi pointed to a narrow road cutting into the forest.

An elegant wooden sign announced the entrance to Drayton Hall. Ben turned onto the long driveway—a slender black strip in a sea of brown and green. It looked like a path to the end of the world.

“Man! I thought
we
lived in the middle of nowhere.” Hi’s nose was pressed to his window. “I’ve changed my mind, Tory. This
is
the perfect place to hold someone prisoner. I’m keeping it on file.”

Ben eased down the lane, keeping our speed low.

I didn’t blame him. It felt like we were invading a foreign country.

“There’s an administrative center, a library, and a gift shop. Not what we’re looking for.” Then Shelton’s eyes lit up. “But there’s a
bunch
of stuff near the water. A garden house. Barn. The old mining works.”

“Perfect.” Pulse racing.

Could we actually have solved this riddle?

It seemed like such a long shot, yet something inside me was certain.

This
must
be the right place.

“Can we wander around alone?” Hi asked. “Because I doubt any kidnapping cages will be on the official program.”

Shelton nodded. “Eight bucks for grounds only.”

Half a mile in, the woods ended. A trio of ponds slipped by as the road cut sharply left, then back to the right. Ahead, an expansive lawn ran a hundred yards to the foot of Drayton Hall itself.

The stylish manor house was three stories, brick, with twin front staircases leading up to a white-column-flanked front door. The roof was elegant red tile. A balcony opened on the second level, just above the main entrance.

A workers’ platform was attached to the building’s left side, with cans of paint stacked on each of its four tiers.

“Pretty,” I said. “And whoever’s in charge of maintenance is earning their keep.”

The access road ended in a small parking lot beside the administration center. There were no other cars. We exited the vehicle, and Shelton hustled over to buy four tickets.

Seconds later his voice called out. “You’re not gonna believe this!”

We hurried to where he stood by a pair of locked doors.

A sign was taped to the glass: “Closed for renovations. See you this summer!”

Ben turned on Hi and Shelton. “All that fancy googling, and you didn’t catch that part?”

“No, guys!” My eyes widened. “How long has the plantation been shut down?”

They all took my meaning.

“Three weeks.” Hi was squinting at his phone. “And it’s out of commission for another two months.”

Shelton stomped over. “Where’d you see that?”

“Home page. Clear your cache once in a while, dummy. Is this your first smartphone?”

“This
could
be the place.” Ben was suddenly all business. “The timing works.”

“The river.” My intensity matched Ben’s.

Ella might be here.

Trapped in a cage, somewhere on this sprawling estate.

The thought made me both anxious and determined.

I would
not
fail my friend.

The twins, too. If their stepfather is responsible, we might be their only hope.

Shelton’s eyebrows rose above the level of his glasses. “Should we . . . you know . . . take the dog out for a walk?”

I shook my head, avoiding Ben’s eye. “The last time I tried, I nearly lost consciousness. That makes two disasters in a row. We can’t risk it today—this mission is too important.”

Ben was first to respond. “I’m with Tory. We don’t need superpowers to search the grounds. We can always revisit the issue, if necessary.”

Hi and Shelton nodded, looking relieved.

At skipping the flares, or the lack of a fight?

Shelton scored a map from a nearby bin. “We should start at the house. A wide lane runs from its back door, dividing the property in half.”

I waved him forward. “Lead the way.”

We cut through a screen of magnolias, entering the football field of grass that served as the estate’s front yard.

“Nice digs,” Hi said. “But I’m not mowing this lawn. It’d take days.”

We walked up to the manor, then circled the building to an arrow-straight path stretching from its rear.

“It leads to the Ashley.” Shelton peered ahead, hand-shielding his eyes. “This road was how they moved materials and supplies up to the house. Back in the day, the river was the best way in and out of here.”

We followed the sunken lane toward the water, moving in and out of shadows cast by azalea trees lining both sides.

I felt hemmed in. Constricted. As beautiful as it was, I didn’t like it there.

But it’s perfect for hiding something you don’t want found.

“Eyes peeled,” I warned. “If we’re on target, what we’re looking for will be up ahead.”

In minutes we reached the riverfront. Beyond a few broken-down sheds and the remains of an ancient garden, we’d seen nothing along the trail.

Water gently lapped the high bank. Only the occasional birdsong broke the silence.

The stillness was unnerving. Even on Morris, it was never
this
quiet.

“Where is everybody?” Shelton’s shoulders were tense. “This place feels like the dark side of the moon.”

“There’s not another house for miles.” Hi kicked a pebble into the stream. “I guess that’s what six hundred acres buys you—total isolation. And Sunday must be a day off for the workers.”

Ben was surveying our surroundings. “You could hide
fifty
dungeons on this property.”

I took a deep breath, trying to formulate a plan. “Shelton, you mentioned structures by the river?”

Repositioning his glasses, Shelton consulted the handout. “Barn and garden house to the left. Mining stuff and cemetery to the right.”

“Let’s split into pairs,” I said. “Hi and I will check the mine and graveyard. You two take the garden house and barn. We’ll meet back here in twenty.”

Ben waved away my suggestion. “Shelton and I will check the mine.”

“You heard her say ‘graveyard,’ too, right?” Shelton squawked. “Not my speciality, Blue.”

I started to protest, but Ben cut me off. “You were
attacked
yesterday, Tory. And
your
flares seem wonkier than the rest of ours. We’ll handle this one. You and Sweet Sixteen can sweep the gardens.”

Hi tugged my elbow, whispering, “He’s right. Let him have this.”

I swallowed my pride. “Fine. But promise. If you see anything suspicious, you’ll regroup with us before you act. No exceptions.”

Ben nodded, looking relieved. “Deal. See you in twenty.”

Snagging Shelton by the shoulder—who muttered “graveyard?” one more time before relenting—Ben headed west along the riverbank.

Sighing, I turned to Hi.

He smiled wide. “Heigh ho, heigh ho, off to the barn we go?”

“Blargh.”

We moved eastward and reached the garden house in moments. What was left of it, anyway—three crumbling walls surrounded a few well-tended flowerbeds. A winding path led from it down to the waterfront, which was screened from view by a stand of weeping willows.

Fifty yards farther on was the barn, its wooden exterior cracked and weathered.

My jaw clenched. I was on a goose chase.

I spun to face him. “These structures aren’t even maintained.”

He looked away. “They, uh, don’t look too . . . sturdy.”

My eyes narrowed. Hi was in on it, too, eh?

Shelton must’ve been acting reluctant, so I wouldn’t suspect their plan. I was being shielded from harm. Sent to investigate the unlikely spots. Kept away from the phosphate mine.

Snap decision. “You check this path. There might be caves by the waterline.”

Irritably, I gestured to the barn. “I’ll buzz that relic, then we head to the mining area.”

“Search the river for prison caves. Got it.” Hi gave me a thumbs-up. “By the way, worst birthday ever.”

I hustled forward, making little effort to conceal my movements. I’d been tricked—sent from the danger zone by my macho companions—but I refused to waste all day on this sideshow.

The barn was surrounded by live oaks, its planks cut from the same wood. Drawing closer, I realized the building wasn’t the owl-invested wreck I’d suspected.

An area before the entrance had been floored with wooden beams and bound by a low wall. Inside, a dozen sawhorse tables and benches were arranged in rows. Wood cuttings depicting wild animals had been nailed to nearby tree trunks. A large chalkboard hung beside the door into the structure itself.

It clicked.

An outdoor pavilion. The barn had been converted into a low-tech schoolhouse, perhaps for use by visiting school groups.

The barn door was new-looking and properly seated. A single window to its left was draped from the inside, blocking view of the interior.

I stood a dozen yards outside the pavilion, pondering whether I needed to approach.

Maybe there’s a root cellar in there. Or a cold storage room.

Eyeing the damp foundation, I didn’t think so. This close to the river was less than ideal for underground storage.

Then I saw it. Just beyond the pavilion were moldy piles of stones.

I hurried across and hefted the closest specimen.

Phosphate rock. I was certain. The smell alone convinced me.

Directly beside the pile was a stretch of muddy, beaten earth. Cutting through the slop were two lines of tire tracks.

My mind flashed to last night’s rainstorm.

Someone drove here recently. The tracks were made today.

I rose, adrenaline pumping. My eyes flew to the barn window.

The drape’s hem was flipped back in one corner, revealing a tiny patch of unobstructed glass. Enough to see inside?

Dropping the nodule, I crept forward. With each passing step, it became more clear.

A light was burning inside the barn.

Then I heard something.

Voices. Arguing?

I stopped dead. Strained to listen.

No good. The noise was too indistinct to make out.

Dropping to a crouch, I crab-stepped forward, vaulting the pavilion’s low wall.

A board creaked beneath my feet. I froze, heart banging wildly.

The voices continued, undeterred.

One male. One female. Most
definitely
arguing.

Should I get Hiram? The others? What if the speakers moved?

Ignoring the condition I’d forced Ben to accept, I scurried to the base of the windowsill.

Oh so carefully, I rose on the balls of my feet.

Peered inside.

T
he pane was filthy with pollen and grime.

Holding my breath, I stuck two fingers into my mouth, then gently rubbed a circle on the surface of the glass. Looked again. This time, I could see.

Inside was a medium-sized classroom, with a dozen wooden desks and chairs pushed against the left wall. In the rear was a tiny kitchenette. Dishes and pans were stacked haphazardly around a dirty sink. Beside the ancient refrigerator was a square table and a trash can overflowing with balled-up wrappers, food cartons, and empty soda cans. In the back corner was a door displaying a unisex bathroom sign.

My eyes were drawn to a blue-green assemblage in the room’s center.

Is that a . . . tent?

The portable shelter had been erected atop two gymnastics mats shoved side by side.

I stared in consternation. What? Why?

Beside the tent were two folding beach chairs and a rolling AV cart, which supported a beat-up tube TV and what looked like a VCR. An extension cord ran from the back of the cart to an outlet ten feet away.