Page 34 of Presley's Christmas Catch
Mostly, yes. Okay, probably fifty-fifty.
“Back to the task at hand, girl.” I focus my concentration on the news articles I’ve found about the Christmas ring. How in the world did Aunt Shannon end up with the ring in her possession? I’ve tried image searching to see if there were replicas out there and maybe this is one of them, but everything I can find is about the stolen ring. Even searching for Westcott Christmas ring replica doesn’t lead to anything but some Facebook posts about Mrs. Westcott’s attempts to find the ring among her neighbors. That was funny.
Can the NSA spy on my private internet searches? Probably. And this doesn’t look good for me if they do. They’d start asking questions like why do I have it? And why am I so interested in having a duplicate? And why haven’t I turned it in if I’m innocent?
I need advice about what to do, but I don’t know who to call. Mom will make me turn it in but having Aunt Shannon’s name dragged through the mud will break her heart. It’s best if she doesn’t know. Brock is the only other person I trust enough. I have friends from high school and college, but they’re not that kind of friends. Mom and Aunt Shannon were my best friends once I moved back to LA after college and, truth be told, I didn’t try very hard to find friends my age. I was always with Mom and Aunt Shannon. I go out with my friends from time to time, but none of those relationships are the kind where you confess you’re pretty sure you’re in possession of stolen property.
I’ve listed out everything I can remember from the Westcott’s Christmas party, but there’s not much since Aunt Shannon died unexpectedly a couple days later. Things that happened just before her death are either in crystal clear focus or completely blurred from my mind.
Sifting through the pictures Mom, Aunt Shannon, and I posted on social media that night has helped me piece things together. The bottom line is that I don’t remember a time period long enough where Aunt Shannon could have ditched me, Mom, Dad, and Thomas to go steal the ring from the safe at the Westcott’s house. Their long staircase would’ve made it next to impossible. Aunt Shannon could still walk on her own, but navigating stairs? It would have taken her forever to do by herself.
So … someone else had to have taken it, and then Aunt Shannon somehow got it. Could Thomas have been in on it? He was making jokes about it…
No, there’s no way. He’s like family. He’s an FBI agent and a straight arrow. He would never.
My hand falls to my phone again, itching to call Brock.
I pull my hand back. What would he even say? He doesn’t have any special expertise that’s suddenly going to help in this situation. I just want to talk to him.
I bury my face in my hands and let out a growl of frustration. Then I take a deep breath and go back to my computer. I open Facebook to check out Aunt Shannon’s friends. I’ll know most of them, so the ones I don’t, maybe I can look up. If I’m lucky, one of them will be the obvious thief. They must have stashed the ring at Aunt Shannon’s house, coincidentally in the box she was leaving for me. The boxes were stored in her bedroom closet. It would have looked like any random storage box.
That makes sense.
I click on my notifications out of habit. I’m not on Facebook a lot, but it’s where the main fan group for TOK is. I’m derailed from my purpose by wondering if Brock is in the fan group. I’ve never seen him comment or post anything. He could have joined under a pseudonym if he didn’t want people to troll him. He has an official Facebook fan page that I assume is run by someone else since none of the posts sound like Brock at all.
Yes, I’ve checked.
I can’t help it. I click on the TOK page and then on themembers of the group. There are around a hundred people in the fan group, so it’s easy to scroll through and find Brock’s name. He’s on Facebook as Brock Bennett Hunter with his middle name (his mom’s maiden name, he told me once). Unless you’re a big football fan, you wouldn’t put it together. His face is more recognizable than his name, thanks to the memes. His picture is the most hilarious thing. It must be from high school. I can see Brock in the shape of his face, but he doesn’t have a beard, and his hair is longer, slicked back like he’s some kind of villain. I snort. I follow Brock on Instagram—that’s where we connect on social media from time to time—and he definitely isn’t posting pictures like this. I’msotempted to screenshot it and send it to him. Two days ago, I wouldn’t have even thought twice. Now it’ll look like I’m stalking him.
I click on his name, and sure enough it shows me that he hasn’t interacted with any of the posts on the page. He’s a lurker, and I love it because that fits.
I click back into the main discussion page even though I’m pretty sure I’m caught up on TOK news. I was on last week, and the last post was two weeks old.
A post from the admin has taken its spot though. It’s been shared from the official TOK page on Facebook, and the admin’s only comment is a line of exclamation points.
FOR GOOD REASON.
The headline of the post teases something about the sixteenth book. I click frantically on the original post so I can read more than the first couple lines.
Shadow Quill Publishing announces the release ofVeil of the Queen, the sixteenth and final book in the Obsidian Kingdom series. It will be released on December 1st.
What?! It’s happening. There’s going to be a book. This is official, from theofficialpage, which only ever publishes true TOK news, never any of the theories or speculation. The article goes on to talk about a special release event at a bookstore in New York City, and the first twenty-five people in line to buy thebook will be able to attend a small gathering with Gideon Thornridge.
I click on the link and purchase two tickets for the event without even thinking about it. Brock and I will still have to get there early to make sure we’re one of the first twenty-five—that shouldn’t be too hard with so few die-hard fans anyway.
I check the calendar next, squealing with delight to see that the event is on a Tuesday, Brock’s day off. It will be a brutal day for us, and he’ll pay for it in practice the next day since we’ll be in late, but worth it. I’ll have to rearrange a few things because I typically work with the guys on their days off?—
I’ve made most of the plans in my head before I remember Brock and I are … I don’t even know what we are right now. In a really awkward place?
But this is TOK! This is exactly why we have to stay friends, and I need to fix this right now. I don’t hesitate this time to snatch up my phone to text him.
Presley:BROCK.
Presley:Grandma is all out today. YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS.
I add a link to the announcement on Facebook so he knows right away what I’m talking about and doesn’t think this is some desperate attempt on my part to get him to like me romantically. It is a desperate attempt to get him to stay my friend, but clearly our friendship is meant to be even if something more never works out. This announcement the day after our big, awkward moment? The book release falling on his day off so we can attend? It’s fate making sure we stay together.
Well, nottogethertogether. Just friends together.
