Page 19 of Devil's Riches

“Yeah. It’s fucked, man.”

“Did you hear about the tunnels under the campus as well? The ones they thought the guy might be using to get around?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know if they’re still searching them?”

“Yup, they’re still swarming all over the place,” he replied. “The entrance is blocked off now, which fucking sucks, because I really wanna go and look through them. I had no idea they were even there. Fuckin’ crazy, right?”

It suddenly occurred to me that Greg probably had no idea about the recent copycat murders at Blackthorne, unless someone—presumably my mother—was providing him with regular news updates while he was locked down in the bunker. That meant he could’ve gone to Blackthorne today to scope out his old hideout before finding it occupied by cops and forensic workers.

He might’ve taken one look at the scene and hightailed it out of there, but there was a chance that hadn’t happened. He might have been caught lurking around the area and taken in for questioning, which meant that Alexis was now safe. Probably bound and gagged in a stolen car somewhere, but still safe from my uncle.

“Do you know if the cops found anyone in there?” I asked Jasper. “Someone who could be a suspect?”

“Nope. They haven’t caught anyone.”

Fuck.I collapsed onto the couch, shoulders sagging.

“They did find some stuff down there, though,” Jasper went on. “Weird shit.”

“Like what?” I asked, skin prickling.

“I dunno if it’s true. I just heard it from one of the guys who said he overheard a security guard talking about it. Apparently those tunnels have gates all through them to stop people from getting in and walking around them. Anyway, someone must’ve found a key somewhere, because the cops think someone was down there very recently.”

I stiffened. “Why?”

“They found a room down there with a mattress and food wrappers with 2019 expiry dates on them. So they think a homeless person could’ve been living down there.”

“Oh.” I let out a short sigh of irritation. The room he was describing was just the cell where I kept Alexis all those weeks ago.

“There was blood in there, too.”

Yeah, my fucking blood,I thought bitterly, remembering the shock that jolted through me when Alexis looked me right in the eye and jammed a knife into my guts. Why the hell am I looking for her again?

I rubbed my eyes. “Did they find anything else?” I asked.

“Yup. This is the crazy part. The cops found another room in the tunnels. The walls were covered in plastic, and there were a bunch of old knives lying around. And get this—there were chains and shackles hanging from the ceiling. They think it might’ve been the original Butcher’s killing spot.”

I rubbed my temples and inwardly groaned. The cops hadn’t found anything in the tunnels that I didn’t already know about, and clearly, Greg had been smart enough to avoid the area.

Jasper launched into a spiel about the original Butcher—the one he knew as Peter Covington—and I leaned forward, lips pressing together in a tight line as I considered my next move. I knew I should call the cops and show them the boxes of evidence which proved that Peter was innocent, but something was holding me back.

I just couldn’t trust that they’d do the right thing. Not after they turned a blind eye to reality ten years ago and let Peter take the blame for something he didn’t do while my crazy uncle went underground. It seemed obvious that they’d taken some sort of bribe in order for everything to unfold the way it did, and they might’ve even planted the so-called evidence in Peter’s office and house.

They might’ve even known that Greg was the real killer.

That could be the reason he was locked down in the bunker on our estate for the last ten years. My mom might’ve made a deal with the cops—their silence and a frame-job on Peter Covington in return for a boatload of cash and a promise that Greg would be banished from society for the rest of his life so that he couldn’t kill anyone else.

It all made a sick, twisted kind of sense. After all, like Colette told me earlier, my mother loved her brother dearly despite his shitty behavior over the years.

She might’ve also chosen to cover for him as a way to protect the Lockwood legacy. Crazy yet understandable in a fucked-up world of wealth and privilege like Avalon Island, where family names and reputation meant far more than they should.

I ended the call with Jasper and started pacing the room again, frustration simmering in my blood. I had a long mental list of places where Greg wouldn’t go, but I was still no closer to figuring out where he wouldgo.

Where the fuck could anyone even hide on Avalon, anyway? It was a massive island, but there weren’t too many places where a supposedly dead man could hide out with a captive in tow. It had to be somewhere enclosed, because being out in the open was too risky, and it had to be somewhere no one would ever go. Somewhere no one would ever look.

My thoughts twisted and turned, whispers and murmurs drowning each other out as new ideas floated into my mind only to be rejected seconds later for not making sense. I violently shook my head, wishing the sudden movement and resulting pain would shake something loose in my brain, but it didn’t help.

Somewhere on Avalon.

Somewhere no one would ever look.

The words swirled around in my head, needling at me over and over, but the answer to my question remained out of my reach. Then, like a blinding flash of light, an idea dawned on me. I set my jaw, leapt off the couch, and grabbed my keys.

I knew exactly where my uncle had gone.

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