Page 12 of Knot Your Karma
“You’re okay with this?”
“I think you’re making this way harder on yourself than it needs to be,” Reed says. “But if you need backup, we’ve got your back. That’s what pack does, even when you’re being a noble idiot.”
“Especially when you’re being a noble idiot,” Adrian adds with dry humor. “Someone has to keep you from doing anything too stupid.”
My scent settles into something warm and grateful, like coming home after a long day. This is why pack matters—this right here. Reed and Adrian think I’m making the wrong choice, but they’re still here. Still ready to support me even when I’m being an idiot about Blake.
“Thank you,” I say. “Both of you.”
“Don’t thank us yet,” Reed says. “What’s the actual plan here? Because I’m hoping it involves more than just you wandering around small-town Rhode Island asking random people about maritime antiques.”
I move to the window again. My feet just keep taking me there, like the antique shop corner pulls my attention like a magnet I can’t see.
“I need to retrace Blake’s steps, figure out exactly how the compass went missing. Talk to more dealers, check estate sale records, maybe put out some feelers with collectors.”
“Sounds like a lot of detective work,” Adrian says. “You planning to handle this alone?”
“Actually...” I touch the glass, and I can almost smell vanilla and sea salt carried on the salt air three stories down. “I was hoping you guys would come up here. Help me track this thing down.”
“Where’s here?” Reed asks.
“Anchor’s Rest, Rhode Island. Small coastal town, pretty enough, but not much happening in the fall. Could be good to have backup.”
“What kind of backup are we talking about?” Adrian asks. “Emotional support or actual investigative help?”
“Both. And maybe fresh perspectives. I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Missing something how?”
I think about today—all those dealers with their careful responses, everyone being just a little too helpful. Like they were all reading from the same script or something.
“I think someone knows more than they’re telling me. One of the dealers I talked to today... her reaction was off. Like she knew exactly what I was looking for before I finished describing it.”
“Suspicious off or justI deal with stolen goodsoff?” Reed asks.
“That’s what I need help figuring out. She gave me her card, said she’d keep an eye out, but something felt rehearsed about the whole conversation.”
I pull Sage Morrison’s business card from my wallet and stare at it. The paper is expensive, cream-colored, elegant lettering. Too elegant for someone who supposedly just handles estate sale pieces.
“What’s her name?”
“Sage Morrison. Deals in estate sale pieces, has a reputation for handling unusual items.”
“Unusual how?”
“The kind of unusual that doesn’t ask too many questions about where things came from.”
There’s a pause while Reed and Adrian process this.
“So you think she might have handled the compass?” Adrian asks.
“Maybe. Or maybe she knows who did.”
“Either way, it sounds like we need to have a conversation with Ms. Morrison,” Reed says. “When do you want us there?”
“Tomorrow, if you can manage it. I’ve got a few more leads to follow up on, including...” I pause, my chest tightening as I think about hazel eyes and careful hands moving through maritime displays.
I need to tell them about Karma.
