Ugh.
If only I could talk to Tess a little bit more, this would be a million times easier. I try searching for other things about Tess, to see if there are any biographies or articles online that mention anything relevant. I mean, there are tons of hits for Tess Vanguard, but nothing of interest.
Eventually, I give up that line of searching and focus on hotels.
I figure I’m searching for a luxury hotel—it appears that Justin Prior was a very wealthy young man. I get a bit of a lead on this one: there’s only a single hotel with a Medina address. It’s a very exclusive five-star location right on the water. Just a single night in their most basic room starts off at around a thousand bucks a night.
I write the address down in my spreadsheet. It’s worth checking out for sure, especially since Secret Cache’s wine is advertised as being served in their on-site restaurant. But could Justin really keep a teenager trapped in a wine cellar on such a busy property?
Regardless, this seems the most likely option. The next closest hotels are, once again, in Kirkland and Bellevue. Not all that far, but the distinct lack of a Medina address makes them much harder to figure out. Just as Tess’ grandmother could be buried in any one of the surrounding cemeteries.
As far as the house … well, there’s nothing I can do to search for that now. I need the address. I can’t just march down to the county clerk’s office and tell them to dig up any and all information on Justin Prior … can I?
“Mm.” I grumble to myself and switch back to my social media platforms. There’s nothing of use pertaining to my original video, but the skeleton key one yields a very promising start.
My grandfather had a key just like that when I was little. Not for his house though, but for the mental health facility that he worked in. It could open any door in the building—even the patients’ rooms. He used to wear it around his neck. I remember asking to play with it as a kid and being given a very firm no. Maybe I’m showing my age here (I’m definitely what you kids might call an ‘ok boomer’) but I hope this helps.
I just stare at the comment for several seconds before switching back to an online search.
Mental health facilities in Medina, Washington is what I type in first.
The closest location that’s still in operation is in Lakewood—about an hour away from here. Founded in 1871. Hmm. But if it’s a working facility, I highly doubt they’re using ancient iron skeleton keys. I need something … less occupied, somewhere Parrish could be hidden away from the world.
Mental health facility is a more modern term; I switch tactics.
I try again with this search: out of business insane asylums Washington state.
A cemetery/insane asylum in the nearby town of Sedro-Woolley, opened in 1909, pops up. It was abandoned in 1973 but was operational up until that point. Patients from King County—the county that Medina is located in—were sent there.
“You’ve been imagining me as the broke, homeless, lunatic you dumped in a facility all those years ago.”
Justin’s words from earlier. Tess also mentioned having had him committed. But where? He’s far too young to have been held in the Sedro-Woolley location. But could Parrish be at the abandoned property anyway? Again, the possibility of Justin staging a stone-walled room to look like a wine cellar comes to mind.
So many options.
But I feel like we’re on the right track.
My heart is racing, and I pause as a text message comes in from Chasm.
The back door was unlocked. Felt like a fucking trap, but we went in anyway. Volli was there having a glass of wine. He invited us to have a look around. Kinda guessing this isn’t what we’re looking for.
Dear god. Both Volli and Justin are nuts. Like, certifiable.
I pause.
Right. Certifiable. Abandoned insane asylum. Seems kind of cliché, but then, so was the dead maid. Ugh. How the hell am I supposed to get the opportunity to drive an hour north, explore the facility, and then come all the way back here while under Tess’ watch?
I’ll have to send the boys which I really don’t like. I know that in reality they’re no more or less safe with me present, but it’d make me feel better if I could go with them.
I whittle away the rest of the time while Maxx is gone to dig deeper into the insane asylum theory.
When he comes back and knocks on my door, I barely let out a grunt to welcome him in.
“I take it you’ve found something interesting?” he says, his face painted with clear annoyance. But not at me. At Mr. Volli, probably. I pause to look up at him, trying and failing to suppress the small flutter in my belly at seeing his gorgeous face.
