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Eve

Harper Hendrix is Extremely Determined

I was balanced at the top of a ladder, removing the bolts surrounding two antique light fixtures. A pair of screws dropped into my open palm. Shoving the drill into my tool belt, I gently lowered the light—a set of teardrop-shaped bulbs, sea-green beneath the grime.

We were back at the same hotel demo site where we’d retrieved the starburst bar, but my restless mind was a thousand miles away, planning for a treasure hunt I still desperately hoped I’d be doing with my aunt.

And trying not to get caught up in yet another erotic fantasy starring the very pretty, very persistent reporter I needed to stay away from.

She’d been a constant presence in my head ever since she’d walked away from me last night.

Something about all that dark, gorgeous hair of hers, perfectly controlled in that bun.

The way it exposed the nape of her neck, her ears, every tender place I’d press my mouth to, my tongue. My teeth.

I wanted to see that hair undone and unruly, falling in glorious waves that I gathered up in my hands. Wanted to tug her head back and see that delicate throat exposed, to see her vulnerable and open. Needy.

“You’re thinking about Hotter Lois Lane again, aren’t you?” Cleo said, effectively snapping me out of it.

I pulled down the bandana covering my nose and mouth and pretended to scowl. “I was actually pondering the effects of the Great Depression on the Art Deco movement, thank you very much.”

Cleo snorted. “So…super-horny thoughts, then?”

Laughing, I made my way down the ladder and draped an arm around a middle rung, unable to stay composed around my best friend. I’d filled her in last night on my conversation with Harper outside of Waylon’s office but hadn’t realized how confused I’d still feel about her come the next day.

Not about my physical attraction to her, which was obvious. But about her candor.

“I…I just don’t know what to think, Cleo,” I admitted. “About any of it. The media has only ever been untrustworthy when it comes to Monty. Something to fear, to avoid at any cost. But last night, Harper, she was…”

Cleo gently took the light fixtures from my hand. “It sounds like our intrepid reporter might be a little more complex than you first assumed.”

I frowned. “More than that, even. She was…she was sincere. Expressed regret over what happened to Monty years ago and I believed her. Thinks my aunt deserves a chance to tell her own story, which I don’t disagree with.”

“Harper’s bi. I’m sure her regret was sincere,” Cleo said. “And look, I love your aunt, and I love how protective you are of her. But I would also hate to see her hide away forever, you know? Maybe Harper really does want to help.”

I gripped the back of my neck as my thoughts roiled. “How do I know if I can trust Harper’s intentions, though? It’s a big ask, and it’s not just me it affects.”

Cleo sent me a knowing look. “You can’t fully know, at least not all at once. What does your gut say?”

“I’m not fucking sure.” My face flushed. “But I do know that I…I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Cleo stared at me for a moment before pulling me in for a long hug I hadn’t known I’d needed. “Don’t worry, babe. This is a first for you, but I think you’ve got it bad for Harper.”

I held her close until I heard my phone vibrating on the table. “I can’t have it bad ,” I said, walking over to scoop it up. “I need to be running in the opposite direction every time I see her.”

Then I saw who was calling me. “Wait, holy shit.” Shoving open the side door, I stepped out onto the hot asphalt. “ Monty? ”

“Hiya, Evie. How’s it goin’, kid?”

My head fell back against the warm brick, part relief, part aggravation. “I was just about to issue a missing person’s report on your behalf, you know.”

My aunt barked out a laugh. “Why the hell would you do that? I ain’t fucking missing.”

“Because I haven’t heard from you in over a month . The least you can do is not disappear completely on me. You’re the only blood relative I have left.”

“That’s not true,” she chided. “I’m just the only blood relative you like .”

Monty was the black sheep of the family before I was, and they viewed us both with a mix of thinly veiled disgust and pity.

But she’d been my idol from the moment I met her at the age of ten—watching in fascination as she kicked her dirty boots onto my mother’s pristine white tablecloth after dinner, asking if she could smoke her cigar inside.

And Monty had been there on my worst day, waking up in a hospital bed after another unrelenting panic attack had sent me to the emergency room. Barely three months into my doctoral program and I was drowning in anxiety with no end in sight. Just wave after crushing wave, holding me down.

When I’d opened my eyes that morning, Monty was in the chair next to my bed, her frayed cowboy hat low.

At the sound of my stirring, she’d pushed the brim up with a single finger and shot me a devilish grin.

“Whaddya say, kid? You wanna go back to that stuffy Ivy League school of yours? Or do you want to come home to Santa Fe with me and Ruby?”

The choice to flee out west had been easy in the end. And it wasn’t like I’d really expected my parents and brothers to fight for me to stay. But it didn’t stop how painful it was when they let me go without saying a goddamn word.

“I’d like you more if you returned my calls,” I said. “A simple text message would suffice. Don’t worry, I’m alive and haven’t been kidnapped, etc. ”

Monty laughed. “But isn’t that the kind of thing a person who’s been kidnapped would say?”

Through the phone I heard what sounded like cars speeding by on the highway.

“So where are you, then?” I asked.

“Not home, if that’s what you’re wondering. Been on a little road trip to clear my head. Camping, fishing, the usual.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Monty, you have to tell me these things. A month is a long time. I’ve been freaked out and worried about you.”

“Hey, uh…” A pause, and I heard what sounded like a truck rumbling by. “Did I hear you say on one of your voicemails that Jensen’s going after the diamonds?”

“So you were getting my messages,” I said, sounding hurt. Feeling hurt.

“Come on, now. You can’t be mad at me for acting like I always do. Now what’s going on with Jensen?”

I sent my gaze back up to the bright blue sky. I’d called Monty again after speaking with him the other night and probably sounded as panicked as I felt. “He told me to tell you it wasn’t personal. He already dug up that spot you and Ruby discovered out by the Sun Mountain trail head.”

A bust is a bust ’til it ain’t.

“And Waylon Boyle told me everyone’s been out there, asking him about the locket.”

“You’ve been chatting with Waylon?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Well…yeah,” I said slowly. “We’ve gotta get a move on, Monty.

I’m trying to do as much of the legwork as I can now, but if you come back into town, we can take off.

I’ve got a bad feeling, a real bad feeling that the rug’s about to be yanked out from under our feet.

Jensen was way too confident. It was unnerving. ”

I heard her sigh. “Jensen’s always been a bit of an asshole. I never met a treasure hunter with so little love for the spirit of the thing. But we can’t do it now, even if he’s out there, making a fuss.”

“I know you always wanted to wait for Ruby, but we might be out of options.”

“The world’s full of options, and we’ve got plenty of time,” she said. “Trust me on this. I know how scary it is when you feel like the heat is on, but just because some people are lookin’ doesn’t mean they’re close to finding anything. You know what I mean? They can look all they want.”

My aunt’s focused and assertive confidence was one of the things I loved most about her. Except in times like this, when I wanted to reach through the phone and shake her until she stopped giving me obtuse fucking answers.

“Besides, didn’t you say there’s some reporter out here, looking for me?” she added. “Probably not the best time to show my face, huh?”

“Her name’s Harper. She wants to give you a chance to tell your own story,” I said. “Like a profile. For the New York Review , so it’d be fancy.”

“Yeah, I’m not even remotely interested,” she said with a chuckle. “Don’t like reporters. Never have, never will.”

“Harper Hendrix is extremely…determined,” I said. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold her off.”

Then I swallowed a half-formed thought— what if you heard her out?

“Well, if I come home, it’ll make it that much easier for her to find me, won’t it?” she teased in her usual singsong-y voice. “She’ll lose interest eventually. They all do.”

I rubbed my forehead, staring down at my scuffed work boots. “Monty… I need you to come home. I need…I need my aunt, the person I thought I was always gonna do this with. I’m not trying to be a hard-ass, but we gotta go for it now.”

There was silence on the other end, nothing but the sound of passing cars. My whole body ached with missing her.

“Evie…I’ll explain when I can, I promise, but I can’t come back just yet. And please don’t do anything rash.”

“A bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You left your niece for a whole month and didn’t say a word. And this isn’t even the first time you’ve done something like this.”

“It is hypocritical. I’m not fightin’ you on that one,” she replied.

“But you weren’t here when me and Ruby went for the diamonds last time.

It took us years of planning, raising the funds, then the actual hunt itself was almost a year long.

Even if I came home right now, we couldn’t just up and go.

I’m sure if you asked Jensen, he’d tell ya he’d been planning this behind the scenes for a lot longer than you probably realize. ”

I knew all of this and yet disappointment sat heavy and bitter on my tongue. Harper’s words yesterday had unlocked something in me, all the reasons why Priscilla Blackburn mattered to me that weren’t about proving myself to my family.

Here I am, fervently hoping I’ll discover some indisputable clue that tells me who she really was. That tells me she was, in her own way…a revolution.

I didn’t realize how fervently I’d been hoping until this very moment, hearing Monty shoot it down without hesitation.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” I said slowly, “but I might be forced to. If you won’t come home, if I get news that I need to act fast… Monty, I’m gonna go for it.”

She sighed, sounding irritated. “Kid…I’m asking you not to.” Behind her there was some scuffled commotion, a person distantly calling her name. “Oh, uh…listen, Evie, I gotta go. Just wait, okay? I’ll explain everything that I can, when I can. Trust me.”

And she hung up.

In so many ways, loving Monty was like loving a feral cat. An affectionate one, but still untamed and prone to wandering.

Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, being kept out of her life like this. Especially when she knew all of my secrets, had seen me at my lowest.

Especially when it meant what I’d been fearing was now a confirmed reality. I’d be going after the Blackburn Diamonds all on my own.