As she moved upward, she saw in dark flashes the sudden shooting and darting of two bats. Startled, she jumped, shoving the rock under her left foot, sending it tumbling below, knocking against other rocks. Her stomach convulsed when she felt a ripple pass under her along the entire slope, as if the slide was shifting.

She froze, holding her breath, bracing for rocks to tumble on her.

Nothing happened.

She searched for the bats—they were nowhere in sight.

For several tense minutes, she didn’t move.

Drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she resumed her ascent.

She estimated she’d progressed about 10 feet when she heard a low clicking above her.

Bats?

Then it became clacking. Then movement above her, as a single boulder tumbled directly toward her.

Sam closed her eyes and tensed to take the full brunt of the impact.

But she felt nothing.

There was silence.

Stillness.

She opened her eyes to a human skull—its empty eye sockets staring, its teeth bared.

Sam covered her mouth with her hand to stifle her scream.

CHAPTER 38

Lucifer’s Notch in the Northeast Kingdom

Wyatt eased his SUV from Cass’s spot by the stream, back up the gentle hills, and made his way to the old cemetery. He parked, switched off the motor, and got out.

The engine ticked down in the quiet, as he walked through the broken gates. Tall grass grazed his legs as he passed through one half of the graveyard. Headstones poked through the dense grass, jutting from the earth unevenly, tilting at odd angles, like a set of rotting teeth. The inscriptions were weatherworn and faded, but he could read a few.

Josiah Hartfield, drowned July 29, 1818, Age 40. A cracked one simply said: Lucy Willow, died November 9, 1819, Age 17. A crumbling stone said: Elwyne Potter, died in a mining accident, June 13, 1816, Age 30. A toppled stone read: Norah, wife of Abraham Kellogg, died in childbirth, April 20, 1815, Age 24.

Walking among the dead, Wyatt grew reflective, silently paying his respects as he took stock of the burial grounds. The graves didn’t appear to have been opened or disturbed, although he may have seen mounds of overturned earth. But he couldn’t be certain; they were obscured by the tall grass, scattered shrubs, weeds, and wildflowers.

He needed to keep going. Scanning the distance for any sign of Gibby, Wyatt suddenly glimpsed a tiny figure at the crest of a hilltop.

Cass had said that he was treasure hunting far beyond the hill behind the cemetery.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Wyatt concentrated his focus.

No. There was nothing there. He must’ve imagined it.

Wyatt continued in the tranquility and isolation. Seeing no one, and nothing but the rolling hills and forests. From time to time, he turned to identify a distinctive line of trees or rock formation. He’d tear a page from his notebook and pierce it on waist-high bramble, to ensure he could find his way back.