“Nope,” he told the others in a low voice, passing the torch back to Diane. “Just crevices around the edges.”
It was true. The marble wall before them was only a slab of concrete, smooth marble. Nothing more, nothing less.
“It cannot be,” muttered Diane with a frown. She handed the torch absently to Logan, who put it back on the wall. “There has got to be one. Somewhere.”
Andrew looked aghast. “Y’all sure this ain’t a dead end or somethin’?” His voice wavered slightly and sounded a bit thinner than usual.
This time no one scolded the cowboy. Obviously everyone else but Diane was wondering about the same thing.
Diane tapped the block and shook her head. “George’s wrappers led us to here,” she insisted. “He cannot be far from here. I am sure of it.”
The others nodded, willing to accept any plausible explanation, yet unwilling to let their guard down. Especially after the tree trunk incident.