Page 82 of In the Pursuit of Haven
He strangled over a self-conscious laugh. “Yeah.”
Shepherd of the Relics. We had to crack it open, but how? Jessie held his hand out. “Let me see the flashlight.” I handed it over. He moved the bright beam around the sundial at different angles to get alternate times, every once in a while tugging at the dial as if something would happen.
My gaze wandered to the devices on the fence in front of me, and instantly I knew exactly what to do. “Seven,” I said. All the instrument panels were set on seven. “Put it at seven o’clock.”
Immediately, he switched directions and rearranged the beam’s angle to hit seven perfectly. His hand went to the dial again. Tugging up on the lever didn’t work. He thrust it down.
The sundial snapped loudly like rusted gears were falling into place, and it swung open. Jessie reached into it and snatched out something flat.
“This is it!” he hissed. “It has an ‘S’ on it—just like the locket!”
Was it possible? The relics weren’t all hidden on the islands? It made sense. The cane and locket weren’t. They just had to be passed down from descendant to descendant until we hunted them down. Now that we knew how to find them, we could divide and conquer.
Hunter wouldn’t know what hit him.
Already I was mentally crossing Winter Island off on our map. Feeling like I had wings on my heels, I ran to the bars of the fence and peered through for a better look at what Jessie had in his hands. “What is th—?”
The lights in front of the house flipped on, perfectly spotlighting Jessie standing on the cobbles. He made a rakish burglar, but a burglar all the same! Giving me a warning look, he backed up against the house while I ducked behind the pillar, my heart racing. This was what happened when turning to a life of crime!
The jaunty raspberry-painted door on the colonial-style home swung open.
Peering around the slats of the wrought-iron fence, I spied Davey taking a few steps outside in sweats and a t-shirt.
Was this where the tour guide lived?
Not sure whether to cry out to him or keep hidden, he solved my dilemma when he spotted me first. “Hey… are you—are you Abby’s friend?”
I straightened. “Her sister-in-law,” I said in my best conversational tone. Behind Davey, Jessie inched from his hiding spot to move—I hoped—to a more socially acceptable location that didn’t reek of trespassing. “I was just looking at all these interesting… uh… things you have on this gate of yours,” I said.
Davey watched me, confusion shadowing his chiseled face. From this distance, I could see that he was half Middle Eastern, half something else. He was a handsome guy—I could see why Abby had a crush on him. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.
“Yes, I was just sitting here,” I said, digging deep for inspiration, “waiting for Abby, actually. We’re docked out there, and I was afraid she wouldn’t see me clear over here.”
So, so lame.
Loud voices echoed from Derby Street and I cringed when I recognized Hunter’s loud shouts: “Their boat’s still at the Derby dock. They couldn’t have gone far! Go down Turner Street, and I’ll head to Blaney.”
He was coming our way. Of all the worst times for this to happen! I stiffened, ready to run. I just didn’t know where.
Davey tilted his head at me. “Were you with that guy the other night who, uh…”
…crashed through the cemetery wall leaving a huge gash in a tomb?Yep!
I shook my head.
Jessie came out from the shadows on the other side. He’d gone over the wall and now hurried over to me. He pushed something into his coat pocket, and I guessed it was the Relic he’d found in that sundial.
Davey pointed at him. “You! You’re Abby’s brother.”
“Yeah”—Jessie grabbed me around the waist—“and if you don’t mind, Abby wants you to ask her out already. She’s got it bad for you—she won’t shut up about those conspiracies you fill her head with—she thinks there are smugglers’ tunnels all over the place.”
“Hey wait!” Davey held out his hand. “I want to talk to you!”
“Later!” Jessie was taking me to the docked boats on the wharf.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“We’re taking my boat this time. Good thingIdock on Salem Wharf. This is where I left it last night!”
