North Atlantic Ocean, April 14th, 1912, 10:00 PM
“Oi!” Jewell says as he drops onto the deck. “Keep a sharp look-out for ice, particularly growlers.”
“Sea’s calm tonight.” Symons lands beside him and rubs his hands together. “It’ll make it rougher. Keep your eyes peeled, Fleet.”
“Thanks,” I respond tightly. I always dreamed of being on lookout.
“Our band of brothers must be the right age,” I told the three men gathered around me in the quiet darkness of my house—dark save for the single candle. We dared not light the lamp on the table between us, nor any lamp at all. “But then, you already know the truth of this.”
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After my daughter and her husband’s car accident, it was just Carter and me. Then, three years later to the day that I had buried his parents, I laid six-year-old Carter beside them.
Leukemia.
Most of the people at the funeral were my grandson’s friends. A few had tears running down their cheeks as they hugged their parents…
Just a spoiled rich girl! Not a serious archeologist! Was that all they thought of me? If they prohibited my inclusion on this expedition, then I would find it first! They couldn’t ignore my experience and commitment if I stood before them holding the relic!
The university library contained what I needed.
The doorman of the Marriott Marquis drew the doors, revealing a grand crystal chandelier. I smoothed imaginary wrinkles from my royal blue cocktail dress—a far cry from my shabby barista’s apron.
I tucked a lock of my long, dark hair behind one ear. Just breathe. My black heels clicked unevenly across the threshold
“Is this gonna hurt?” A wet bead crept down my neck. I wiped it off. Smeared it across my T-shirt.
“No more than a broken heart.” Magnus gave a boisterous laugh.
I forced a smile. Scary-lookin’ dude. He could do more than hurt me.
The bald behemoth winked, then sat next to me,
“Hemorrhoids.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I buried my face in the menu. It wouldn’t be the first time my darling Joe had embarrassed me in an elegant restaurant like Tony’s. I’d just hoped our forty-ninth anniversary might be an exception.
“Hemorrhoids!” Joe announced. A few patrons side-eyed each other.
I lifted my face slightly and…
“An exciting opportunity lies ahead of you.”
Across the table, Hank folded the slip and threw it into the remains of his shrimp chow mien. “Well, if that refers to Betty Jo zonked out on the sofa again with an empty bottle of vodka”—he rolled his eyes— “I’m gonna pass. “
Inspector Gustav Ackerson removed his bowler hat and knelt next to the corpse. A boy of fourteen years stared at the nickelodeon’s plaster ceiling with glazed eyes. According to the night guardsman, the poor lad had snuck into the theater after hours and had been discovered lying on the floor next to a mutoscope.
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My New Year’s resolution this January is the result of my last online hookup. It happened like this.
“So after my dad died, my stepmom started a housecleaning business with her daughters and me. I do vents and fireplaces because I’m good with cinders.” Ella smiled at me from the other side…
I haven’t slept in three days.
I don’t dare. My chin quivers. “God help me not to slip.”
The accursed journal lies on the floor where I flung it last night. It’s skillfully bound, with crackled leather and twisted knotwork burned into the cover. A cover that should remain forever closed.
You can’t eat morals. This motto had earned Abraham quite the reputation across town, meaning many shady characters ended up in his tent on darkened nights. When the work Abraham had done for his clients tormented his mind, he told himself one thing.
Scruples didn’t stave off starvation—money did.
And the fellow…
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