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I wanted to either chase after Eddie or go to bed and wallow in misery for a few hours, but neither of those options was helpful. I’d neglected the vegetable garden for a few days now, so I worked there instead, punishing the weeds like it was their fault my day had gone so sideways so quickly.

I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a theft on Dauntless Island.

Well, before Eddie’s arrival had shaken everything up.

People on Dauntless left their doors unlocked, because you never knew when a neighbour might need to drop in for something.

Mavis didn’t even lock the shop at night, and I wasn’t the only one who’d ever taken advantage of that by slipping in to help myself to a necessity or two, leaving a note and the money behind.

So anyone could have come up to the cottage last night, either during the Saturday night celebrations, or later when we’d been sleeping, and got into the kitchen.

It didn’t explain how they’d got into the medical chest though.

I kept that locked, because that was in the rules, and if I broke them and the Royal Flying Doctor Service found out, I’d lose my authorisation.

I kept the chest locked because I was told to, not because I’d ever thought anyone would steal from it.

I sighed and ripped another weed out of the hard-packed clay soil.

“You’re the only person who has a key,” Eddie had said, and it was technically true, but also…

Eddie had only seen me open the box with the keys I kept on my belt. He didn’t know the spare key hung on a hook on the side of the fridge.

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to think of who might.

God.

I couldn’t think of a time I’d grabbed that key instead, but it must have happened once or twice, right? If I’d been caught without my work clothes on, too early in the morning or too late at night.

Someone must have noticed and remembered.

Except how did they know the diary was in the medical chest to begin with?

I groaned, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight.

Young Harry Barnes must have seen the diary yesterday morning. And he’d had all of Saturday night to tell literally everybody. Whoever had attacked Eddie for the diary in the first place must have overheard him.

I leaned back on my knees, lifting my face to the sun and stretching out the kinks in my spine.

Yeah. Young Harry Barnes must have talked about seeing the diary in the medical chest, and someone else must have remembered where I kept the spare key.

I wished the pieces had fallen into place a little earlier. Before Eddie had accused me of stealing the diary.

My brain definitely could have put it together a little sooner.

I didn’t care about the diary, not really, or at least not in any passionate way. I cared that it mattered to Eddie and his thesis, but that it called Josiah Nesmith a murderer and a rapist?

I’d been raised on stories of Josiah Nesmith’s heroism, and it was mad to think it might all be lies, but it didn’t matter . I thought of what Eddie had yelled at John Coldwell at the museum on Friday morning: “It was two hundred years ago!”

Yes and no. Yes and no.

I was Red Joe Nesmith. The expectation was that I would be mayor after Short Clarry retired, and that I’d become the leader of the community, the way my father Tall Joe had been before he’d died.

And, as Josiah Nesmith’s direct descendant, I had a responsibility to the community as well, and to those who visited the island.

My actions mattered, and so did my opinions.

I couldn’t just ignore the fact that someone had assaulted Eddie, and now stolen the diary. Clearly putting the word out that I wasn’t happy about the assault hadn’t been enough.

I would have to do something I’d never done before.

I’d have to call a village meeting and lay it out straight.

I wanted the diary returned, and the attacker unmasked. And I would demand it, with all the authority of Josiah’s Nesmith’s name.

It was my birthright, and my responsibility. And, more than that, I wanted to prove to Eddie that I’d never lied to him and stolen from him, and that I never would.

* * *

I walked down into the village late in the afternoon and headed straight for the second biggest gossip on Dauntless.

The bells on the shop door jingled as I stepped inside.

“Mavis,” I said in greeting.

“Red Joe,” she responded, folding her arms over her bosom.

“I’m calling a village meeting. In regards to this whole situation with Eddie Hawthorne.”

Mavis lifted her brows.

“I’m informing the police as well. Something was stolen from my house last night, and I want it returned.”

“Stolen!” Mavis exclaimed with a gasp. “From you ?”

“From my house.” I didn’t miss that fact that she wanted clarification—as though Eddie being attacked and having his laptop destroyed wasn’t anywhere near as exciting or scandalous as someone daring to steal from Red Joe Nesmith.

“Oh, the police though?” she asked, her brow furrowing. “Is that necessary, do you think, Red Joe?”

“I do,” I said. “A man was attacked, and now we’ve had another theft on top of the first. I think it’s very necessary, and I’m sure the police will agree.”

Mavis didn’t look entirely convinced. “A village meeting, though? You know there’s not a meeting scheduled until next month. Short Clarry is bringing over some hotel fellow from the mainland.”

“It can’t wait until next month. I’m calling one now, for tomorrow. Noon at the church. Put the word out.”

She looked me up and down for a moment, as though she was seeing something new in me. My father maybe, or all of my forefathers together. Her mouth quirked at last. “I’ll do that then, Red Joe. Noon, at the church.”

“Thank you.” I turned to leave, and then turned back again. “Have you seen Eddie today?”

“Yes.” She huffed. “He came in earlier, asking about passage off the island. I told him there is none until Young Harry Barnes goes over to the mainland on Wednesday, and he asked me about the fishing boats. Well, I told him, those are for fishing . If we used those as taxis, nobody would eat, would they?” She sniffed. “He didn’t like that much.”

I could imagine.

“Well, then he asked where he was allowed to camp,” Mavis said. “And I told him I’m not tourist information, am I, and he said he knew that, but tourist information was closed.”

Poor Eddie. He was winning friends and influencing people all over Dauntless, wasn’t he?

“So I told him John Coldwell had some tourist maps at the museum,” Mavis said. “And he looked like he’d sucked on a lemon when I said that, and he didn’t even buy anything when he left!”

That was a not-so-subtle reminder if I’d ever heard one, so I selected a packet of beef jerky from the stand near the register. I dug through my pockets for my wallet.

“Don’t forget to let everyone know,” I said. “Village meeting, noon tomorrow.”

“I’ll make sure the word goes out,” Mavis said.

The bells jingled again as I left the store and headed for the museum. Maybe John Coldwell would be a little more receptive today, and maybe I could find a way to ask him—without outright accusing him—if he’d taken Henry Jessup’s diary.

I walked to the museum, Hiccup meandering alongside me.

The museum was closed but unlocked, just like always. I lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

“John?” I called. “It’s Red Joe. Are you in?”

It took me a moment to realise that the stand of postcards and brochures by the counter had been knocked over, its contents scattered all along the floor.

Hiccup bounced forward, sniffing excitedly, and I caught her by the collar.

That’s when I saw the blood spatter on the floor.