Chapter 28
Kane
As the first rays of sunlight spill across the bedroom floor, Kori awakens beside me, stretching like a cat. “I should shower before the others wake up.”
I nod, reluctant to let go of her but knowing we need to prepare for the day ahead. “Kori?”
She pauses at the doorway, looking back at me with those warm brown eyes that see right through me. “Yes?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
Her smile is soft and genuine. “No thanks needed.”
As she disappears into the bathroom, I lie for a moment longer, savoring the peace before the storm. Today I might meet my sister. Today, I might finally get answers to the questions that have haunted me since finding that first letter. Today, everything might change—again.
The morning passes in a flurry of activity. Bags are loaded into cars, last-minute provisions packed, routes checked one final time. Declan is in his element, directing operations with the efficiency of a field general. By seven, we’re ready to depart.
I find Kori by the car, double-checking her bag. “All set?” I ask.
She nods, looking up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yup. Got my inhaler this time.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I remind her. “You could stay here, wait for us to return.”
“Not a chance,” she says firmly. “I told you, I’m seeing this through.”
Before she can respond, I lean down and kiss her—a brief, tender press of lips that conveys everything I can’t put into words. When I pull back, her eyes are wide, cheeks flushed.
“What was that for?” she asks softly.
“Luck,” I tell her with a smile. “I figure we could use all we can get.”
Declan’s voice cuts through the moment. “Time to move out!”
With one last smile at Kori, I join Declan and Kat in the lead car. As we pull away from Wavecrest, I watch in the visor mirror as Kori stands with Wren and Rory, growing smaller with distance until they disappear around a bend in the road.
The journey to Glendalough passes in tense silence. Declan drives with single-minded focus, while Kat taps away at her phone. I stare out the window, watching Ireland’s green landscape roll by, trying to imagine what awaits us in those mountains.
“We’re about a half hour out,” Declan announces as we pass through the town. “Last chance to get supplies.”
We stop briefly for fuel and coffee, then continue our journey. The roads grow narrower, winding through increasingly rugged terrain. The Wicklow Mountains rise around us, ancient and imposing, their peaks shrouded in mist.
“According to the map, we turn here,” Kat says, pointing to the sign that reads R756.
As we follow Kat’s directions and turn onto R756, the landscape transforms. The hills swell into mountains, their ancient faces scarred with rocky outcroppings that jut like broken teeth against the sky.
It’s beautiful in a wild, untamed way that reminds me why Ireland has always felt more like home than Toronto ever did.
We pulled into the car park at Glendalough Upper Lake around nine. The lot is mostly empty this early, just a few hikers gearing up for morning treks. Declan parks near the trailhead, and we step out into the crisp mountain air.
“Perfect timing,” he says, checking his watch. “The others should be about twenty minutes behind us.”
I pace along the edge of the car park, too restless to sit and wait. From here, I can see the lake stretching out like polished glass, reflecting the mountains that cradle it. The morning mist still clings to the water’s surface, giving the whole scene an ethereal quality.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kat says, joining me at the viewpoint.
“Yeah,” I admit. “Hard to believe something so peaceful could be hiding family secrets.”
She bumps her shoulder against mine. “That’s Ireland for you. Gorgeous scenery, terrible history.”
We wait in tense silence until the second car pulls into the lot. I find myself scanning for Kori first, relief washing through me when I see her step out, looking refreshed and determined. Our eyes meet across the distance, and she offers a slight smile that somehow steadies me.
“Everyone clear on the plan?” Declan asks once we’re all gathered. “We follow the Miner’s Path for about an hour. According to the map, the village ruins should be just off the main trail.”
“Any sign of company?” Rory asks, scanning the nearly empty car park.
“Nothing obvious,” Declan replies. “But stay alert.”
We set off down the trail, walking in pairs with Declan and Wren leading. I fall in step beside Kori, while Rory and Kat bring up the rear, occasionally glancing behind to ensure we’re not being followed.
“I meant to ask earlier, did you sleep well?” I ask Kori quietly.
“Better than I have in weeks,” she admits, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “You?”
“Same,” I tell her, as she takes hold of my hand.
The forest floor is carpeted with ferns and wildflowers, their colors vibrant against the rich earth. We cross small streams on stepping stones, the water crystal clear and ice cold from mountain snowmelt.
As we climb higher, the trees thin, giving way to open moorland swept by wind. The view stretches for miles—rolling hills covered in purple heather, valleys cut by silver ribbons of water, and in the distance, the glint of the Irish Sea.
“This place,” Kori murmurs beside me, “it’s magical.”
“The Irish tourism board would love you,” I tease, but I understand what she means. There’s something primeval about these mountains, something that speaks to something deep within.
“How much further?” Kat calls from behind us, breaking the spell.
Declan consults the map again. “Should be just over this ridge.”
We crest the hill, and there, nestled in a protected valley, lie the ruins of what must once have been Miners Village. Stone cottages, their roofs long gone, stand in silent rows. At the center, rising above the other structures, is a square tower—miraculously intact despite the centuries.
“There it is,” I breathe, suddenly nervous. “The tower from the clue.”
Declan leads us down the slope toward the ruins. As we draw closer, I can see that the village is larger than it first appeared—perhaps twenty structures in various states of decay, with the tower standing sentinel overall.
“Mining was big business here in the 18th century,” Rory explains as we pick our way through the ruins. “Lead, mainly. But the mines played out, and the village was abandoned.”
“Perfect place to hide something you don’t want found,” Wren observes.
We reach the tower, its stone walls weathered but sturdy. A narrow doorway opens into darkness. Declan pulls out a flashlight and peers inside.
“Looks clear,” he reports. “Single room, spiral staircase leading up.”
“I’ll check upstairs,” I volunteer, taking the flashlight from him. “Kori, want to come with me?”
She nods, following me into the cool darkness of the tower. The stone staircase winds tightly upward, forcing us to climb single file. I go first, testing each step before allowing Kori to follow.
The upper chamber is small and circular, with narrow windows offering views in all directions. Empty except for debris—fallen stones, bird nests, the remnants of what might have been furniture long ago.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Kori asks, running her hand along the rough stone wall.
“Something that doesn’t belong,” I tell her, scanning the room. “A mark, a loose stone, anything that seems deliberate rather than decay.”
We search methodically, tapping walls, examining the floor, checking each window embrasure. Nothing.
“Kane!” Declan’s voice echoes up the stairwell. “Find anything?”
“Not yet,” I call back, frustration building. “Keep looking down there.”
Kori moves to one of the windows, leaning out slightly to check the exterior wall. “Kane,” she says suddenly, her voice tight with excitement. “Come look at this.”
I join her at the window, following her pointing finger. Just below the window, carved into the stone, is a symbol—a small, crude dragon.
“That’s it,” I breathe. “Has to be.”
I lean farther out, examining the stonework around the carving. One block seems slightly misaligned with the others, its edges not quite flush.
“I think this stone is loose,” I tell her, fingers probing the edges. “Help me.”
Together we push, pull, and wiggle the block until it finally shifts with a grating sound. It slides inward, revealing a small cavity behind.
“Guys!” Kori calls down the stairwell. “We found something!”
The others thunder up the stairs as I reach carefully into the opening. My fingers close around something solid—a metal box similar to the one we found at Tara, though smaller.
I pull it out just as Declan, Wren, Kat, and Rory crowd into the chamber. The box is old but in good condition, sealed with a simple latch rather than a lock.
“Open it,” Declan urges, his usual reserve cracking with anticipation.
My hands shake slightly as I flip the latch and lift the lid. Inside lies a folded piece of paper, yellowed with age but still intact. I unfold it carefully, revealing what appears to be a hand-drawn map with detailed directions.
“It’s a route,” I say, studying the paper. “To a cabin in the woods.”
Without a word, we all file out down the stairs and onto the next wild goose chase.
∞∞∞
Twenty minutes later, we were all standing on the porch of the cabin, waiting for someone to answer our knock.
The door swings open to reveal an elderly woman with silver hair pulled back in a neat bun.
Her face is weathered but kind, deep lines etched around eyes that widen slightly as she takes me in.
“You look just like him,” she says, her voice soft with a slight tremor. “Same eyes.”
“Are you Marie?” I ask, my heart hammering against my ribs.
She nods, stepping back to allow us entry. “I am. Please, come in.”
The cabin interior is simple but comfortable—worn furniture, handmade quilts, shelves lined with books, and small carved wooden animals. A fire crackles in the stone hearth despite the mild day outside.
“We’re looking for Ella,” I say, unable to contain myself any longer. “Is she here?”
Marie’s expression shifts, a shadow passing over her features. “No, I’m afraid she’s not. Ella left about six months ago.”
The hope that had been building inside me deflates like a punctured balloon. “Left? Where did she go?”
Marie gestures for us to sit. I sink onto a worn sofa, Kori beside me, her hand finding mine in silent support.
“With Tomas,” Marie says, settling into a rocking chair across from us. “My George passed three years ago—God rest his soul—and when Tomas finally came back, Ella decided it was time to go with him.”
“Tomas was here?” Declan asks, leaning forward intently. “After all this time?”
Marie nods, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “He visited over the years, though never for long. Always worried about being followed, he was.”
“And where did they go?” I manage to ask through the tightness in my throat. So close, yet still so far from finding my sister.
“To Canada,” Marie says. “Someplace out west, that’s all I know. Tomas said it would be safer there, away from the Russians.”
“The Russians are still looking for her?” Wren asks, concern evident in her voice.
“So Tomas believed,” Marie replies with a slight shrug. “Whether it’s true or just an old man’s paranoia, I couldn’t say.”
I struggle to process this information. Tomas is alive. Ella is with him. They’ve gone to Canada—possibly even near Toronto, where I’ve been living all this time without knowing they were there.
“Did Ella know about me?” I ask, the question burning in my chest. “Did she know she had a brother?”
Marie’s eyes soften. “Yes, dear. Tomas told her everything before they left. It was part of why they went—he wanted to find you, to bring the family together at last.”
“But why the elaborate treasure hunt?” Kat asks, frustration edging her voice. “Why not just contact Kane directly?”
“Tomas always had his ways,” Marie says with a small smile. “He left something for you, though.” She rises slowly and crosses to an old bureau, retrieving an envelope from the top drawer. “He said to give this to Declan if you came looking.”
Declan takes the envelope, surprise evident on his face. “For me? Not Kane?”
Marie nods. “Specifically, for you, he said.”
Declan stares at the envelope for a long moment before carefully breaking the seal. He unfolds the letter inside, his eyes scanning the contents. His face remains impassive, but I notice the slight tightening of his jaw.
“What does it say?” I ask, unable to contain my impatience.
Declan looks up, his expression unreadable. “It’s coordinates. And a date—next week. He wants us to meet him at a location in Alberta.”
“Alberta?! What the hell is in Alberta?” Kane says.
Rory is switching between looking at his phone and over Declan’s shoulder, and then he laughs. “You will never believe this.”
Sighing heavily because I’m so over this game, I ask, “Believe what?”
“Those coordinates are for a ranch just outside Calgary.”