Page 74 of In the Pursuit of Haven
“Jessie!” Abby complained.
He chuckled low in his throat. “Ha, I know! Every conspiracy we have seems to be coming true.”
He’d warned me things were about to get weird.
“Getting his hands on a Shepherd’s Relic would fit the guy’s profile,” I said. “Elias Hasket Derby was known for obtaining curiosities from the Orient and other parts of the world. His collection was the start of the Salem museum.”
Abby snickered at this conversation. Yeah, yeah, we were both showing our inner nerd.
“Hmm.” Jessie stared down at the map while I wondered where to go from here.
“Should I try to get Luther in on the hunt?” I asked. “He’d know what was in his museum, and by the way, he’s got Crowninshield blood in him too… on his mother’s side.”
“The reliciswith Zak,” Jessie’s sudden alliance with his sister surprised me. He spun the map to pinpoint the areas we were debating. “Look where his tavern is.” He pointed near the wharf. “Zak’s place is sandwiched between Elias Hasket Derby’s family home and Captain Clifford Crowninshield’s.” Both of those homes were still standing. “Back then, none of these new buildings built on that street would’ve existed between them. Those two men lived about the same time; they would’ve known each other, and could’ve even worked together to keep the Relic safe, and their smuggling tunnels would’ve met right here in the middle where Zak’s tavern now stands.”
“So now you believe me about those tunnels,” Abby said with a laugh. “And by the way, Zak’s tavern was up and running back then too. Davey has all sorts of stories about that place.”
I met Jessie’s eyes. That underground tour guide would have even more stories after seeing us, too.
“The Derby Street Historic District used to be the red-light district back in the day,” Abby said. “And Zak’s tavern was the busiest brothel out there. When the pirate ships needed new men, they’d lure sailors in and kidnap them, then carry them through the smugglers’ tunnels to work their ships.”
I covered my mouth, trying to smother my enthusiasm. We’d found it. “I love your sister, Jessie. This is… amazing.”
“Wait, what didshedo?”
I plucked the sticky notes from the center of the table and wrote“John Clifford”and“Zak”before slapping the sticky note onto Winter island. We were about to find our first Shepherd’s Relic since reigniting this treasure hunt. “We’ll find out as soon as we talk to Zak,” I said.
Honestly, no one in Salem was worse at keeping a secret than he was.
Chapter Twenty
We were nervous about going into town again, especially at night, but Zak’s tavern only opened late, and so our plan was to breeze in and out, cloaked by the shadows so as not to be spotted, all while Jessie loitered outside with his hood low over his head.
Jessie was pretty sure Zak wouldn’t be thrilled to see him after that last fight.
The winter winds were chilly as our feet found the platform. “Why are we docking here again?” Jessie asked his sister. “Salem Wharf is better.”
Abby thrust her elbow into his side. “Why? Are you trying to trick me into picking up your boat?”
Partly true.He’d left it on the mainland after we’d taken Haven’s boat home last night. We were coming up against some tough bullies. I ran my hands down my arms, shaking under the blistering cold. I’d worn my blue sneakers with jeans and a long-sleeved tee under a black coat, ready to run, hide or fight if it came down to it.
And I really hoped nothing like that happened this time around. Jessie’s eyes ran between me and his sister, and I noticed the tense line between his brows. “You know what to ask Zak?” he asked.
Abby snorted. “You act like we’ve never been on our own before.”
Jessie scoffed. “No, the problem is you’ve beentoo muchon your own. You’re the first to find trouble.”
Truth. I couldn’t wait to get her alone so I could ask her how that had happened. I knew she’d talk without her brother around, as long as I didn’t make her feel like an idiot.
A sound ahead of us made Jessie plant his feet.
Robert Corwin. The old, grumbling man was hanging out in his wreck of a houseboat, though it seemed the allure of the night life had called him outside. His head poked out of his door like a cranky muskrat, and he was throwing on a heavy coat over his long johns and boots, looking like he was in too much of a hurry to be properly attired.
We should’ve docked elsewhere.
Not seeing us in the shadows, he shot ahead of us. Our shoes fell into rhythm as we slowed to keep our distance.
“Such a blackmailer,” Abby whispered to me.
