Page 14

I did the best thing for me when I was under stress—I went shopping. Gertie was at the library working on a project, and I needed retail therapy. My day included three of my favorite men: Neiman Marcus, Hermès, and Louis Vuitton—window shopping only. I salivated over the new purses at Bottega Veneta and ended up finding a cute Kate Spade satchel at Marshalls for half off.

Lugging my bags into the house, I dropped them on the coffee table. Something was off. An eerie feeling that the air had been disturbed gave me goosebumps.

A low growl drew my attention downward. Attack cat was crouched under the table. He peeked up at me through the glass and hissed.

Had Caiyan come back? The hair on my arms stood at attention as I crept around my house. Nothing seemed out of place. There were no creaks from the floor above me, and the house felt empty. The sword.

I took the stairs two at a time, and my heart stopped as I entered my bedroom. A tornado had demolished my room. Shoes were thrown from the closet, my comfy chair was overturned, and dresser drawers were emptied onto the floor. But the worst of it was the empty Tom Ford box in the center of my bed.

The sword was gone, and so were my beloved boots. Written on the mirror in my M.A.C. Brave lipstick were the words “you can’t hide love.”

I retrieved my gun from the nightstand and phoned Jake. “The sword has been stolen, and creepy words are printed on my mirror.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I sat on my bed amid the mess. At least the crook started in my room. I only had to clean up the pieces of my shitty life instead of the entire house.

Jake arrived thirty minutes later. He did a clean sweep of my house. Took pictures of the damage.

“What do you think that means?” he asked, cocking his head at my mirror.

“Maybe the Mafusos think my relationship with Caiyan isn’t over.”

“And since they found the sword in your possession they know for sure.”

“But we aren’t together.”

“Jen, you can’t come within five feet of the guy without sparks igniting. I knew the minute I asked you if you cared about him our time together was over.”

A slight ache pinched at the mention of our past relationship.

He tucked his phone into his pants pocket. “This is my fault. I should have taken the sword somewhere else. I haven’t been focused on my job. I’ll do better.”

“You’re a great boss.” I placed my hand on his arm. “You put my safety and the team first. Don’t feel guilty for having a piece of life for yourself.”

“I’ll have security watch your house.” Jake started for his phone.

“Don’t bother. They have what they came for.”

He hugged me. “I’ll still have them do a drive by. And think about installing security cameras.”

“Sure.”

Cameras might be a good thing. In the last month two people and a slew of animals had broken into my house.

* * *

I spent the next two weeks researching the Civil War. Gertie and I watched documentaries and movies—good and bad. The entire episodes of North and South starring Patrick Swayze before he started Dirty Dancing . I read books, letters, and anything I could get my hands on about the war.

My focus was Gettysburg and Vicksburg. These were the two battles coming in July. Jake was wrong about the Mafusos skipping this moon cycle. I felt it in my bones.

Three nights before the wedding, I sat cross-legged on my sofa thumbing through a twelve inch by twelve inch book titled A Photographic Remembrance of the Civil War . The fighting at Vicksburg would be on the downward swing by the time the moon cycle opened.

The battle had begun in the middle of May and the Confederates surrendered on July fourth. I studied the town strategically located on the banks of the Mississippi River. By the time the moon cycle opened the fighting will have decreased to a minimum. General Grant starved the Rebels into surrender. I doubted the Mafusos planned to go there.

Gettysburg seemed more logical. If they dropped Caiyan there, the chances of him getting shot were greater. Flipping through the pages of the book that lay in my lap, I studied the generals. The battles. There were many that took place in the four years of the War of Northern Aggression. I reminded myself that’s what the South called it. The North referred to the war as the Southern Rebellion.

Rebels versus Yankees.

Jake was right about the statistics at Gettysburg. There were over fifty thousand casualties, some seven thousand men died, and the rest were injured, missing, or taken prisoner. The chaotic upheaval of the small town completely raided of food and supplies would take years to recover. I passed quickly over the photos of dead men and slain horses left for days on the battlefields before their bodies could be moved or buried.

A cold prickle skittered my spine. Caiyan, please don’t go there.

Gertie entered through the back door. Her book bag was slung over one shoulder, and her purse dangled from her forearm. She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and grabbed an apple.

“Hey, what’s up?” She moved toward me and took a giant bite of the apple.

“Not much, just going through these books again.”

“If you think he’s going to Gettysburg, we could zip up there and check out the battlefields.” Gertie looked at me hopefully as she chewed her apple. She loved to traipse through anything of historical significance. Battlefields, castles, ancient ruins—I’d been to more museums than should be allowed in a lifetime.

“Since the wedding is on the same day the moon cycle opens, I don’t think…I mean, I hope, this is not on Gian-Carlo’s bucket list.”

“Has Jake found anything linking a key to the Civil War?”

“No, he’s coming up empty.”

There was no record of any of the keys of a member of the WTF that would have been worn by an ancestor in the Civil War. My family was part Native American; we came into the show later. Tina’s parents immigrated to the United States after Vietnam. I wasn’t exactly sure about Gerry, and if I asked, he’d lie. The rest of my team was from across the pond.

Ace had said they arrested Caiyan in Gettysburg but had no idea why he was there. Brodie confirmed the information that when Caiyan was rogue, he tracked him to Gettysburg and apprehended him.

“All I can do is sit, wait, and hope Caiyan makes an appearance before he does something stupid.”

“Yeah, like marry Satan’s bitch.”

“I meant, like allow the Mafusos to dump him in a past time he has already been without a word to me so I can rescue him before…you know.” He dies.

“That’s what I meant too.” She wedged the apple between her teeth and upended her book bag onto the coffee table. Three stuffed files slid out.

“What are these?” I laid the book aside and picked up one of the files.

Removing the apple, she picked up a file and came to sit by me on the couch. “These are copies I made, correction, my assistant and I made.”

“You have an assistant?”

“Yeah, cool huh?” she shrugged. “Anyhoo, Ragina’s photos got me thinking. I have a friend that works in the American Civil War Museum. These are letters the library had on microfiche from soldiers in the Civil War. My friend mailed them to me. That one,” she pointed to the folder I held, “has the ones from Gettysburg.”

“There’s a lot of them,” I said, opening the bulging file.

“They moved them to the Internet, but it was more efficient to have them copied directly from the files.”

“Thanks, Gertie.” I pulled out the first letter from a soldier to his wife.

“No prob. Maybe there will be a clue in one of them.”

We spent the better part of the evening reading the letters from soldiers, when I came across one that tugged at my heartstrings.

The soldier wrote to his mother about all the things he missed from home. Swimming in the pond, shooting dove, riding his favorite horse. The letter told his mother he didn’t think he’d make it home, because he’d been shot in the leg and was caught in a fence. He apologized for running off and joining the war at ten and two.

Ten and two? He’s only twelve. My heart thumped hard in my chest as I continued to read. He was sorry for complaining about the chores, and he wouldn’t return to help care for his ma or marry the pretty neighbor girl.

The letter had a thumbprint stain at the bottom. Blood.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I glanced over at Gertie. She was wiping away the wet from her cheeks.

“I can’t read any more,” she said.

“This one’s from a boy, he was only twelve.” I handed Gertie the letter, and she read the words that still made my vision blurred.

She flipped the letter over and read the back. “The boy died at Gettysburg on the second day. That’s all it says. The letter was found with him.”

We sat in silence until our tears dried. I had a hollow pain in my stomach and decided if I filled it with pizza it might go away.

“I’m going to order a pizza, you in?”

“I could go for pizza.” Gertie pulled open the next file.

“Gert, you’re not going to read more are you?”

“Yep, I can’t let you go back without me. This is a bad war, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. If I study from now until the moon cycle, I’d be an asset to you.”

She was right. Between her photographic memory, the papers she’d already written on the Civil War, and her knowledge of the time, she would be a treasured resource.

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged tight. “I don’t know if Jake will let me go. He probably won’t let you go.”

“Then we need to convince him otherwise.” She smiled at me after I released her. “I wouldn’t mind being a southern belle. Gone with the Wind is a favorite book of mine.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “Why Miss Cloud, I’d be much obliged if you’d add a few peppahs to that pizza.”

“You got it.” Gertie was a blessing; however, I didn’t think we’d be sipping punch in Georgia. If the message on the sword was a clue to Caiyan’s destination, I’d drop a pin on the heart of the Civil War.