Page 45 of Hannah.

“Alright, let’s take a picture of this first.” Johan takes his iPhone out and shoots a photo of the page where we found the drawing of the rose.

Then we gather our things quickly, the urgency of our discovery pushing us forward. The garden is just a short walk away, and as we enter it, we are greeted by a burst of colors and fragrances. The garden is expansive, with winding paths leadingthrough meticulously maintained flower beds and towering trees. The air is rich with the scent of blooming flowers, a sweet and heady perfume that envelops us. Birds chirp merrily, and the gentle hum of bees can be heard as they flit from flower to flower.

We walk down the gravel paths, passing by vibrant displays of seasonal plants and rare, botanical specimens. The glasshouses glisten in the sunlight, housing exotic plants from around the world. It’s a haven of tranquility, a sharp contrast to the bustling city just outside its gates.

Our footsteps crunch on the gravel paths, echoing in the quiet of the garden. We head straight for the area marked on the map, a section known for its beautiful roses. The garden is extensive, and finding the specific rose bush isn’t as straightforward as we hoped. We weave between the rows, the roses in full bloom, their colors ranging from soft pastels to deep, rich reds.

We search for several minutes, our eyes scanning each bush for something out of the ordinary. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. My heart beats faster with each passing moment, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

“There,” Johan says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. He points to a particularly vibrant rose bush. Tied to one of the stems is a small glass vial. My breath catches as we approach it.

Johan carefully unties the vial and opens it, revealing a rolled-up piece of paper inside. His fingers shake slightly as he unfurls the paper, and we both lean in to read the coded message. It’s a series of numbers and letters, a puzzle that seems to lead us to another location. We sit on a nearby bench, the stone cool beneath us, and decode it together.

“Look at this sequence,” Johan says, pointing to the string of numbers and letters. “It looks like coordinates or a coded message. Let’s break it down.”

I nod, my mind racing. “We should look for a pattern. Maybe it’s a simple substitution cipher.”

We spend the next few minutes working through the code, our heads bent together over the paper. Johan scribbles notes, his handwriting hurried but precise. I follow along, trying to spot any familiar patterns or sequences.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Johan suggests. “Each number corresponds to a letter. For example, A is 1, B is 2, and so on.”

He quickly writes out the alphabet and numbers on a separate piece of paper. “Now, let’s decode the first few letters.”

Johan writes down the first part of the sequence: 6-9-20-26-23-9-12-12-9-1-13.

“F... I... T... Z... W... I... L... L... I... A... M...” He pauses, then looks up at me, eyes bright with excitement. “Fitzwilliam!”

“Fitzwilliam Museum,” I say, the pieces clicking into place. “What about the rest?”

We continue decoding, and the message slowly reveals itself: “M... U... S... E... U... M... S... T... O... R... A... G... E….”

“Museum storage!” I say, understanding dawning. “The next clue is hidden in the Fitzwilliam Museum’s storage area.”

“This is it,” Johan says, excitement and determination in his voice. “Let’s go.”

As we leave the garden, I glance back at the rose bush, feeling a strange connection to Amelia. Our journey continues, each step bringing us closer to uncovering her mystery. And with every clue, I feel more connected to her and to Johan as we navigate this intricate web of secrets together.

The Fitzwilliam Museum stands imposingly before us, its grand façade and majestic columns exuding an air of historical significance. As we step inside, the cool, hushed environment envelops us, a stark contrast to the warm, fragrant air of the Botanic Garden. The museum is a labyrinth of history and art, each room filled with artifacts and treasures from various epochs.

“We need to find the storage area,” Johan whispers, his voice barely audible in the vast, echoing space.

I nod, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The stakes feel higher now, each step bringing us closer to unveiling Amelia’s secrets. We follow the signs leading us deeper into the museum, past exhibits of ancient pottery, Renaissance paintings, and delicate tapestries.

Finally, we reach a door marked “Storage–Authorized Personnel Only.” Johan glances at me, his eyes reflecting the same blend of fear and determination that I feel. With a deep breath, he tries the handle. And of course, it’s locked. As we check the door, I notice it has an electric keypad, reminiscent of those on old phones, with buttons for numbers and corresponding letters.

“There needs to be a seven-digit code,” Johan informs me. “We have the same keyless lock in our department.”

“Oh gosh…and now?” I ask, heaving a long sigh of frustration. “We were so close.”

“Hold on,” he mutters, pulling out his iPhone and checking the picture he took in the library. He opens it and says, “I’m sure the code is hidden in this verse.”

I peer over, glancing briefly at the screen. “Are there any words with seven letters? Rose is just four.”

Johan's eyes light up with a victorious smile. “But rosebud is seven.”

With determination, Johan quickly presses the "7" key for 'R', then the "6" for 'O'. His fingers move swiftly, hitting "7" again for 'S' and "3" for 'E'. Gaining confidence, he taps "2" for ‘B,’ then “8” for ‘U.’ Finally, he presses "3" for 'D', completing the sequence.

We both hold our breath as the lock processes the input. The keypad beeps, the lock clicks open, and we exhale simultaneously, relief washing over us. The door swings open, revealing the way forward, and a sense of accomplishment floods me. We did it.