Chapter 18
Io heard the scuttling sound of rats again and turned. The flashlight on her phone caught Cal’s face and stopped her mid-swing. He appeared ashen. Worry hit fast and unwelcome. It wasn’t the tunnels. They’d done a cave tour in Germany and there’d been no issue. Something was going on though.
“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah. Fine. Knock louder.”
Cal was blocking her out. Big surprise. She should’ve been used to that by now. She forced her concern aside. Whatever was going on with him wasn’t her problem unless it interfered with the job.
Using the corner of her phone, Io knocked on the panel again.
This time it opened.
KW stood there and gestured for them to leave the tunnels. Io moved immediately. Hesitation got people killed. As soon as they were both clear, KW shut the tunnel entrance.
“Why did you want us to come to the convent?” she asked, powering off the flashlight and tucking her phone away.
KW smirked. “You asked.”
“And you were uncooperative.”
“Yeah. BD had a few things to say when I had my last check-in. He showed up personally.” KW looked at Cal.
“Sorry about the runaround, dude. You’re new to the team and I’m protective of the sisters.
” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’ll show you where I found the brooch first. The Reverend Mother is willing to talk to you at one, after the midday meal, so we have some time to kill. ”
Io looked around. The substructure under the convent made sense.
The old part of Trujillo was near the foothills of the mountains, so there was less worry about building underground than if the convent were closer to the rainforest. Also, back before refrigeration, they would have needed the cooler space to store foodstuffs.
She was sure there were other considerations, too, but she wasn’t a historian.
“How’d you find the tunnel?” she asked. “Father Tomás said you followed it to the church.”
“Yeah.” KW ran a hand over his nape. “So after you talked to me about the brooch and wanting to see the spot where I found it, I started checking out other areas down here. Things that seemed a little off. One of those crevices I poked around in opened this tunnel.”
“Opened?” Io raised an eyebrow. “After all these years it just opened?”
“It cracked open. I had to use a crowbar to force it wide enough to service the mechanism. It’s still a secret for now, but Father Tomás and Mother Teresita are going to talk to the architect in charge of the convent renovation so that he and the structural engineer can take it into account.
Security was bad enough without this. After it comes out? ” KW shrugged.
“Since you were poking around in this area,” Io said, “I’m assuming you found the brooch nearby.”
“I’ll take you there,” he said.
Io followed Cal’s teammate. KW had shaggy dark hair and a beard, was around Cal’s height and his age, but that’s where the similarities stopped.
Cal was more muscular and more serious. KW frequently smirked, and there were times she believed he said things to get a rise out of people.
It wasn’t that Cal didn’t tease and make jokes, but he did it out of affection.
She was pretty sure KW enjoyed poking a hornet’s nest just to watch the chaos.
The stone-lined corridor was cool, but there was still humidity. They didn’t go far before KW opened a wooden door. He had to use his shoulder to force the warped wood to leave the jamb. “This is the room I found the brooch in.”
Standing in the doorway, Io stared. The space was loaded with what looked like junk. “Why were you digging around in the room?”
“You noticed we’re wired for electricity down here.”
Io gave KW a look. “The lighting kind of gave that away,” she said dryly.
The smirk returned and he shrugged, completely unrepentant.
“I was working on a plumbing leak in another room on this level and the lights began to flicker. There are multiple fuse boxes throughout the abbey and I was looking for the one that controlled this level. I wanted to turn off the power until I could get an electrician in to look at it. Instead, I moved a pile of boxes, and saw a glimmer there.” He pointed to one of the walls.
“I decided to check it out in case it was another problem I needed to deal with.”
Io examined the crevice KW pointed out, but all she saw was the space between the stones. Nothing else caught her eye.
“Io, take a look at this,” Cal said. He was about fifteen feet away, studying the same wall.
“What did you find?” she asked, moving toward him.
“Maybe nothing. Could just be scratches, but it feels like there’s a pattern.”
KW reached him first. The three of them stared at the marks—old, weathered, but deliberate.
Cal angled his flashlight again, and the pattern snapped into focus. A sunburst, partially obliterated by a crack patched with concrete. Not decorative. Not random.
“Sungrave,” Io breathed. “Captain Elijah Sungrave. His personal symbol. He had it embroidered into his waistcoats.” She caught the look from both sergeants. “Archer briefed me. Sungrave was proud of his name. Cal, angle the light a little more. Let’s find the farthest point.”
Cal swept the beam upward. “How tall was he?”
“About six feet,” Io said. “Why?”
The light landed on a point high on the wall. “That’s the apex.”
Io could barely reach it. Cal, taller, stepped in. “Feel around. Anything strange?”
He switched off the light and used his hands. Skepticism shifted to focus. “There’s something. A recess.”
Io’s breath caught. “Careful. Sungrave was known for booby traps.”
Both men froze.
KW muttered, “You’re telling us this now?”
“I’m telling you before you stick your fingers anywhere else,” Io said. “He used mechanical traps—spring-loaded darts, weighted drops, counterbalance triggers. Nothing explosive, but still lethal.”
Cal’s hand stilled. “Good to know.”
He probed more cautiously. “There’s a metal nub. Might be a latch. Doesn’t want to move—wait… got it.”
A seam appeared in the stone.
“Don’t open it yet,” Io said sharply. “If Sungrave hid something valuable, he’d trap the access point.”
Cal immediately stepped back. KW did too.
Io crouched, scanning the edges. “Look for tension wires, pivot points, anything that looks newer than the surrounding stone.”
Cal angled the flashlight low. “There. Thin wire. Almost invisible.”
KW leaned in. “Tripwire. Runs to the hinge.”
Io nodded. “Classic Sungrave. If you force the panel, it’ll release whatever’s above it.”
Cal followed the wire upward with the beam. “Counterweight. Looks like a stone block tucked into the cavity.”
KW exhaled. “Drop trap. Would’ve crushed whoever opened it.”
Io swallowed. “He didn’t play around.”
Cal’s voice went calm and professional. “KW, hold the light steady. Io, stay back.”
He traced the wire to its anchor point. “If I cut it here, the weight drops. But if I wedge the block first…”
KW was already moving. “I’ve got shims in my kit.”
He returned with two thin metal wedges. Cal climbed onto a lower stone ledge, braced himself, and slid the shims into the narrow gap above the counterweight.
“Okay,” Cal said. “That should hold it.”
He used his knife to sever the wire. The tension snapped with a metallic twang, but the block stayed suspended, held by the shims.
KW let out a low whistle. “That would’ve killed someone.”
Io’s stomach tightened. “Sungrave didn’t want anyone finding this.”
Cal tested the panel again. “Trap’s neutralized. KW, crowbar?”
KW fetched it. Cal wedged the flat end into the seam and worked it gently. A rusty hinge groaned.
Dust billowed out, musty and ancient.
“Well,” Cal said, reaching inside, “this is interesting.”
He pulled out a book.
The cover appeared to be brown leather, rotting in places. It was about ten inches long and six inches wide. Io imagined that the paper inside would be in rough shape. This was Puerto Jardin. It was hot and humid year round and no care had been taken to preserve it. But maybe they’d get lucky.
Cal handed her the book without comment.
Io took it carefully, holding the fragile text with both hands. The leather cover was mottled and soft in places, the edges warped and flaking. A faint bloom of mold clung to the spine, and the clasp—small, brass, and tarnished—hung crooked, as if something had gnawed at the hinge.
She opened it slowly.
The first few pages were melded together, blackened at the corners.
Others had been chewed through in places, the damage unmistakable—tiny scalloped bites along the margins, a faint dusting of yellow residue where the paper had thinned.
This wasn’t fresh damage, but the kind of slow destruction that took decades. Maybe even centuries.
Io turned another page, careful not to crack the binding. The ink had blurred in spots, some of it was still legible, but it was faint and the lighting in here didn’t help.
She found a crate that was nearly intact, set down the book, and used her phone’s flashlight to get a good look.
Most of what she could make out would interest a historian—or an archivist like Frankie—but didn’t do much for her.
It was a ship’s logbook, but it had nothing to do with the sea voyage and everything to do with the time Captain Sungrave and his first mate had been fugitives from the Spanish viceroy.
The logbook was in the convent. The captain had been captured in the convent before construction had been completed. Before the nuns had taken up residence. Being careful, Io paged to the final entry.
This page was in horrible shape, the silverfish having a field day. But she was able to make out one section.
She read the line again, just to be sure.
A la Sombra de la Misericordia Radiante.
The phrasing was ornate, almost reverent. Not a location. Not a code. A title.
It was a painting.