From the way the man talked, Hailey could buy that he was some sort of snobbishly eccentric academic. But he wasn’t giving off the air of someone who was standing in the base of the Bunker Hill Monument in some sort of official capacity.

“I don’t think that door is supposed to be open,” she finally said, pulling at the thread. “And I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, any more than we are.”

The man didn’t respond.

“Why are you here, Professor—”

“Jensen. Adrian, if you must. Call it a research project.”

It was obvious that wasn’t enough for Hailey or Nick, so Adrian continued, his disdain morphing to distaste.

“A colleague of mine was inordinately obsessed with this monument—something I previously wrote off—as he was, to put it kindly, a fool. He came here often, wrote many papers about its provenance, even pushed our historical society to throw its annual conference in the shadow of this granite beast. But now I’m led to believe—perhaps there was something beyond his usual affinity for poppycock behind his interest.”

It was more than Hailey had expected. She didn’t know how it tied into why she and Nick were there, but she doubted it was simply a coincidence.

“So, you lifted a key—” she started.

“Borrowed,” Adrian corrected. “The curator is a former student of mine. If he had been in his office, I’m sure he would have been happy— I don’t need to explain myself. I have reason to be here. You two—”

But Nick had obviously already lost interest in Adrian, because he’d moved closer to the cylindrical structure in the center of the shaft. He was focused in on the stone base beneath the wood—which appeared to have writing carved into it. The column itself had a plate with more writing, but unlike Nick’s, Hailey’s eyes were immediately drawn upward—to the strange object that rested on the peak of the column.

“So, this is the ‘memorial’ that stood on this spot before they built the obelisk,” she said.

Adrian was watching her and Nick—no doubt realizing that they weren’t going anywhere, which meant he had little choice but to endure their company. Finally, he stepped into the chamber after Hailey.

“That column is made mostly out of wood and stands about eighteen feet tall. The thing on top is an urn, made of gilded metal.”

“You say this was built in 1794,” Hailey said.

“Correct. About thirty years before Lafayette laid the cornerstone of the obelisk. When the obelisk went up, they placed this replica of the column in here.”

“It’s not the original?”

“The column, no. The wood was rotting and wouldn’t have lasted anywhere near this long. The urn on top—that’s a different story. The Revolutionary fathers were quite adept at metallurgy.”

Nick glanced up at the urn as well.