A Grave Tree Read Free

stored in the vault in my library and see if there are any references,” Sylvain said with a careful smile. “I’m sure it’s all fine.”
    “Right. That’s why we’re holed up in the woods and our parents and Mrs. Forrester have vanished. Why aren’t we even looking for them?” Abbey said.
    The smile slipped from Sylvain’s lips. “Your parents were quite clear. They don’t want you getting involved. More salad?”
    Abbey ignored the butter lettuce and crumbled blue cheese that Sylvain proffered, his long thin fingers wrapped around the cheery ceramic bowl. “Right, instead they want us to live a normal life in a little cabin away from all suggestion of civilization?”
    “I’m sure this is only temporary,” Sylvain said. “Until they…”
    “Until they what? Come back?” Abbey spat the words. “What if they don’t come back?” Her eyes flooded with tears, which she blinked back ferociously.
    “Abbey’s right,” Caleb said. “We have a right to know what’s going on.”
    Sylvain set down the salad bowl. “If your parents don’t return, your mother has made arrangements for you. There is a trust fund, and you are to go live with her cousin Monica in California. I believe she is your Great-Aunt Marge’s daughter. I will deliver you there myself. Mark will stay…” Sylvain paused and then continued, “with me. But I assure you, your parents will return. They are very capable, and I have the utmost faith in them.”
    Abbey rose from the table, bristling with frustration, and was about to say something scathing when Farley erupted into barks and began running back and forth maniacally in front of the door.
    A sharp knock cut through Farley’s agitated noise. Sylvain leapt up from the table and peered through the curtain onto the front stoop. Then he let the curtain fall and reached over Farley to open the door.
    Ian stood on the threshold, his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his beret sodden and a deep shade of tan.
    Farley stopped his crazed barking and ran at Ian, his tail wagging euphorically, no doubt looking for Digby the rat. Farley had shown a great interest in Digby, and although Ian believed this heralded the start of a great friendship, Abbey rather suspected Farley actually wanted to toss Digby in the air and shake him like a beach ball.
    “Glorious evening for a stroll,” Ian announced. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of coffee and a sit by the fire.”
     
     
    After hanging his wet things near the cozy glow of the fireplace, Ian dug into his serving of stroganoff, asparagus, and butter lettuce salad with relish.
    “I haven’t been able to find her,” he said without warning after he had taken several bites. Abbey leaned forward. Who was he talking about? Her mother? Mrs. Forrester? Selena?
    “Not surprising,” Sylvain growled, after a glance at Abbey, Caleb, and Mark, likely assessing the desirability of having them in the room during this conversation. “She’s powerful. We’d best be on our guard. The question is which side she’ll be on. She’s already managed to meddle in some of my business interests.”
    Ian flipped his fingers in the air, as if to imply that this last did not concern him, and took a generous bite of asparagus, the filo pastry crumbling onto his vertically striped, blue polyester shirt.
    Abbey watched Ian warily. The last time they had seen him, he had been charging at them with a gun, yelling that he couldn’t believe that one of them had done something and that someone—a her—needed to be stopped. Then Jake got shot, quite possibly by Ian. And afterward, when they were in the tunnels, Sandy had said—repeatedly—that Ian could not be trusted. But they became separated when the tunnels caved in, so Abbey hadn’t been able to ask Sandy why Ian was not trustworthy.
    Then again, Abbey wasn’t completely sure if she trusted Sandy either. But her mother and Sandy were clearly friends, and cuteness should not be a