Page 47 of Devil's Riches

“What about the Lockwood emblem?” I asked, pointing over to it. “What does it mean?”

“My grandpa told me it was some sort of ancient clan symbol that represents strength in battle,” Nate replied. “So it’s too old to be something from the 50s, unless he made that up. But I doubt he did, because it’s in all the family portraits.”

“They could’ve hired an artist to add it to the old portraits later to make it seem legitimate.”

“Yeah, they could’ve, but why would they?” Nate said, brows wrinkling. “Only my family uses that emblem, so there’s no way it’s secretly part of the Golden Circle symbolism.”

My shoulders slumped. “Good point,” I muttered. “There goes that theory.”

A sympathetic expression crossed Nate’s face as he looked at me. “It wasn’t a bad idea,” he said. “It just didn’t pan out.”

“I know,” I said, letting out a soft sigh. “It just sucks because I really thought I was onto something.”

I went back to the laptop to do more research on the wealthy families of Avalon that made up our current list. Nate returned his attention to the list itself, forehead creasing as he scanned the names again and again.

I bit my bottom lip and clicked on a new webpage. A moment later, I caught Nate looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “What’s up?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Nothing,” he said gruffly, eyes snapping back to the list. His neck had turned slightly red.

I frowned, wondering why he was being so weird.

I ended up putting it down to irritation over our current situation. It made sense. I was agitated too. I couldn’t stop the hot, shaky feeling of helplessness from washing over me every time a minute passed without either of us making any progress in our search for answers. It made me feel like Sisyphus from the ancient Greek myth, rolling a boulder up a hill for all eternity.

I closed the laptop lid. “Maybe we should get some dinner,” I said. “Having food in our stomachs might help us focus better.”

Nate nodded and rose to his feet. “I’ll order something. What do you want?”

It occurred to me that this was the first time in weeks—almost a month, actually—that my opinion had been sought on food. Not so long ago, I was subsiding on stale bread and old pieces of fruit, and I had absolutely no say in the matter.

“Um… pizza would be nice,” I said in a tentative tone.

“Any preferences for toppings?”

I shook my head. “I’ll eat anything.”

He stepped over to the other side of the room to make the call. While I waited, I went over to the window to look outside. The setting sun had just disappeared over the horizon, giving way to a twilight sky filled with indigo clouds and the first stars of the night.

I took a deep breath as I stared up at the nearest glinting star, wishing I could sort out the jumble of thoughts in my head. Everything kept swirling around and around—Greg’s story about the Golden Circle, my father’s waterlogged notes and letter, the list Nate and I had spent the last few hours working on to no avail, and all the ideas I’d had so far that attempted to explain everything but wound up explaining nothing.

I was never going to crack this. I was probably going to end up sitting here all night, staring out at the stars and wishing I could—

Wait… stars…

A memory was suddenly triggered somewhere in the depths of my mind. I ran back over to the desk, brought up the last page of my father’s letter on the computer, and stared at the last line.

PPS. Remember, if you’re ever feeling completely lost, look up to the sky, think of me, and let the stars guide you home.

There was a sudden explosion in my buzzing brain—the good kind—as neurons began to fire rapidly, setting a new idea loose in my head. I opened up a web browser and typed in a bunch of search terms. After a couple of minutes of speed-reading, I stood up straight and called out to Nate, pulse racing as adrenaline flushed through my system.

“Nate! Come and look at this!”

He was standing with his back to me, cell phone pressed up against one ear. When he heard my voice, he turned to look at me. “What?” he mouthed.

I beckoned to him with one hand. “Just come and look!”

He ended his call and strode over to the desk. “Did you find something?”

“I think so. My symbol idea might be right,” I said excitedly, showing him Dad’s letter again. “Remember this part of the letter that you asked about? Letting the stars guide me home?”

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