Page 56 of In the Pursuit of Haven
Who on earth could’ve had it for all this time, and why had they sent it to me?
Next to it was a note written in shaky print:“Look what showed up!”
Oh, speaking of men with a soft spot for Haven—Luther had come through! He’d said he’d put out some feelers at the other museums. I was touched at how much time this must’ve taken to track down… and intrigued. Just imagine how fast we could get to this treasure if we got all the museums involved?
Inspecting the missing half, I saw that “nine” was written on the inside—just as Matthew had said—and I counted four more rubies on its glittering surface. Those, complete with the five rubies on Haven’s side, made nine altogether.
Jessie acted like he knew what that meant already, but did he really?
I set the packaging down on the chair and lifted out the other part of the locket from under my shirt to see how the pieces fit together. A separate chain fit into a necklace that Matthew would’ve worn. I melted at the gesture. The two halves reminded me of broken hearts, only becoming its complete shape when they joined.
Matthew totally did that on purpose. Such a romantic, just like his nephew when Jessie put his mind to it, and what I’d give to share this moment with him!
Tiny, intricate hinges marked where the two pieces met up, although it might take a jeweler to connect them. Lacking that, I slid both necklaces onto my neck, tucking them into my shirt.
Gathering up the packaging, I threw it into the trash. It bounced off the side and onto the ground. I jogged over and dunked it back in, and at the same time I noticed that another note had floated out from the debris. How had I missed that one? Smoothing out the crumpled paper, I read it:“The witch was buried in holy ground. You want to see what else was buried there?”
My breath quickened. Was this from Luther, too?
The note was in cursive this time on the same paper that his secretary liked to use. The pad of paper had the insignia of the Salem Museum in the corner.
This was definitely Luther.
My cheeks burned at the realization. He’d been Haven’s confidant all these years. Had he known exactly why I was asking him about La Concepcion too?
And now the good professor was working overtime to help out his good friend’s niece. I read the rest of the note:“Meet at six at the cemetery near the museum.”
Sweet old man. I didn’t deserve his friendship. The first thing I’d do when I met up with him was to ask where he’d gotten the other half of that locket. I hadn’t known there were survivors on Matthew’s ship… well, besides Robert.
My short-tempered stalker said he’d talk, but I didn’t trust him in the least. When he’d sized up Jessie, there had been murder in his eyes. No way could I meet up with him and feel safe.
But Luther was different. Looking at the clock and seeing it was a little past five, I began formulating excuses that would get me out of the house with as little drama as possible.
Checking out a museum piece? I’d used that one the first night.
Picking up more supplies? Only possible if we’d run out, and there seemed to be a bottomless supply of boxes and tape in the shed.
Visiting Bette Ann? Yeah, and I should make that real too, because Jessie could always see right through me when I tried to fib. I needed more chocolate anyway. That wasn’t a lie!
I brought the jewelry case into the kitchen to the sound of Jessie clearing out the shelf of spices and recipe books. Those went into his box and he taped it up, cutting off the tape with his teeth, instead of using the scissors like anyone who wasn’t Jessie would do.
Despite that, he was faster at packing than I was. I hated to think how he’d put those skills to use when we went our separate ways.
“Roxy.” He plucked the delicate case from my hands and added it to the next empty box. “My old man needs me to help him with a shipment tonight.”
Yeah, right, but I nodded eagerly anyway. It saved me from the lie.
He reached over my shoulder and peeled a piece of duct tape from my sleeve. “Are we going to pack you up into these boxes next?”
I allowed a smile to form over my tense lips. “Only if you ship me off somewhere exotic.”
“Why not?” he asked. “We never got to celebrate our anniversary.” His hand stilled over my arm as if he’d only just realized that he was crossing over to forbidden territories. The next instant, he practically stumbled over himself when his mouth stopped halfway to mine, just short of brushing my lips with his own in one of those careless kisses of farewell.
I froze.
He hesitated. His mouth found my forehead instead. “Okay then… good night.”
There was something final in that. I gnawed on my lower lip as I watched him leave. Where was he heading this time? I could only contemplate that for a minute before I checked the clock and realized I only had forty-five minutes to make my own appointment.
