Page 57 of In the Pursuit of Haven
Luther was sure cutting this close. What if I hadn’t gotten his note today? Finding my phone, I texted him. “I’m on my way!”
I snatched my keys and touched the lockets against my neck. I wasn’t sure if it was worse to take them or leave them here for thieves to find, and so I opted for keeping the two halves with me.
At least that way, I’d know who’d stolen them.
Taking out Haven’s boat, I drove through the evening waters awash in the glow of the sunset. Somehow the familiar ride made me almost feel like the two of us were sharing this moment together. Salem was beautiful under the fading light, and I was filled with renewed hope that Luther’s information could somehow help me with Jessie.
Perhaps this was what I’d been praying for.
Salem’s streets by Zak’s tavern were hopping at this time of night, but after I docked Haven’s boat, I managed to avoid the crowds by crossing the street to get to The Old Burying Point Cemetery on Charter Street. It was closed after dark, but of course, Luther would know that. We’d likely just make our way over to his museum.
I noticed a few stragglers in the cemetery. From previous experience, I knew they’d be ushered away by the caretakers who ran the gift shop at the Pickman House, though the lights were off over there.
That was strange in itself.
I was five minutes early for my meeting, and so I dug out a few pennies from my purse and rushed to Proctor’s Ledge Memorial, and then found Corey Giles’s stone and placed one on there too.
Might as well. Even the mean historical figures deserved some love sometimes.
My mind was consumed by the tragedy of Ann’s lonely burial; I was sad that her family had lost track of her, but Luther’s message had filled me with hope. She’d been buried in holy ground, but where?
The voices in the cemetery were getting louder and I noticed the shadows moving closer. Looking up, I froze when I recognized the faces making up Divine and Hunter’s crew. Those horrible treasure hunters!
These stones were fragile antiques and irreplaceable. These guys couldn’t just be stumbling around here in the dark… although not exactly stumbling, were they? They had bright-beamed flashlights and professional equipment with them. They were dressed like trained cat burglars and looked like they were getting ready to dig up a grave. Wait… were they?
My heart skipped all over itself.
Was that crumpled note meant for me or Jessie? But the paper had the insignia of Salem Museum on it!So? Anyone could get their hands on their inventory.They could’ve just walked inside and asked for a notepad to write their message. How could I be so stupid?
Was Jessie with them? I already hadn’t believed his flimsy excuse that he was out helping his dad with a shipment. Trying not to be too obvious that these grave diggers had caught my attention, I kept my hand steady on my pennies while I searched through the shadows to see if I could pick out a familiar one.
Sagging in relief, I didn’t find him anywhere.
That meant I was good to call the cops. I’d do it in the museum with Luther safely by my side.
Swinging around, I ran into a solid body—or rather, he’d run into me. Catching my breath, I stared up at Hunter’s biggest man. His arm blocked me from going anywhere.
“Look what we’ve got here!” he called out to the group in the cemetery.
I backed up. “I was just putting some pennies on memorials.” And I wasn’t about to confront them about what they were doing. I had to get out of here.
Hunter vaulted over the fencing between the cemetery and the witch monuments to get to me. He was dressed the loudest of the bunch with a red jacket and nothing covering his handsome face. “Not quite who we were expecting to answer our note.”
Well, that pretty much confirmed my suspicions. Hunter approached me like a jackal. He swung his crowbar behind his back to hide the dangerous tool, but I saw it. “Where’s Jessie?”
“Wait, wait.” Divine wasn’t too far behind. Her black hair was in a thick braid down her back, and her black glossy leather coat glistened under the streetlights. “Isn’t this his wife? She’s like smart and stuff. Maybe we can use her.”
Absolutely not! Grave digging was a felony in Massachusetts, not to mention how unethical this was. I wanted no part of this. We’d need warrants and special permissions and—and excavationists, archivists… I was one.
They didn’t have to know that.
Jessie was right. My scruplesweregetting in the way!
Chapter Seventeen
Iput my hands up, looking for any escape and finding none. “Don’t touch me.”
The tavern down the street was hopping with music and noisy laughter. My screams wouldn’t do a thing.
