Page 32

Harper

Four days left to find the missing diamonds, write the best article of my career, convince Greg to give me that promotion, impress my dad, and keep things “casual” with Eve

While Eve parked the car, I stood in front of the Haven’s Bluff Historical Society and contemplated continuing to ignore the voicemail I’d received from my father yesterday.

The red notification glared at me each time I peeked at my phone. An act I was doing every few minutes, hoping that Greg had answered my email about dropping Monty and pursuing the story of Priscilla and Adeline instead with a giant thumbs-up and an atta girl .

I was more likely to see unicorns flying in the sky, but a stressed-out reporter could dream, couldn’t she?

Though at this rate, all I had to show for the article I wanted to be writing was a picture of an old locket, a few eyewitness accounts from 125 years ago, and sunburned shoulders.

Oh, and Eve Bardot, my new obsession.

Ignoring the voicemail again, I shot off a quick message to Daphne: Help! I had very messy and extremely hot sex with my Beautiful and Heavily Tattooed Hot Lead and we’re just keeping it casual, which is fine, I guess, but what if I’m already fucking it up?

My phone began buzzing with what I assumed was Daphne sending me a slew of reaction gifs.

Eve strolled up the sidewalk and was making her way toward me, swinging her car keys around her finger, the very picture of ease and confidence.

She’d teased me about being insatiable with her, and I had been.

Felt starved for her now even after she’d made me come three times.

But I’d never felt so in touch with my body, so attuned to my real desires.

Call it a side effect of our near-death experience, but last night was the most vivid, the most fervent, the most passionate night of my life.

Fun. Casual. No shame, just sensation .

I’d repeat it like a mantra if I had to. Eve had been clear earlier—this was casual and fun for her, too. And what had I really expected? I’d known her for all of a week , and besides, this was good practice for reminding myself how to live in the moment again.

Though there was one person I knew who lived the way Eve lived—my father. And he’d abandoned me and my sister as soon as we were inconvenient to his lifestyle.

Perhaps that was why she looked so relieved when I told her I didn’t want anything serious, either.

The notification glared at me again. This time I pulled my phone to my ear and pressed play, with all the enthusiasm of a person about to undergo dental surgery without anesthesia.

“Harper, it’s Dad,” he said, sounding like he stood in a wind tunnel.

“Sorry about the noise, I’m outside the chopper, and we’re about to take off.

Anyway, I’m just calling because I heard through the grapevine that you’re out in New Mexico, trying to get the scoop on Monty Montana. ”

I scowled up at the sky, bemoaning the fact that he had eyes and ears everywhere. And that no industry was chattier or more gossipy than this one.

“She’s a famous mystery for a reason, honey, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you take a big swing and miss. It happens to all of us. Just didn’t want you to get your hopes up… Oh, uh, shit, that’s the chopper, gotta run!”

Eve appeared at my side as I was staring down at my phone, as irritated as I was embarrassed. It was the way he always made me feel: annoyed at his ego and complete lack of emotional awareness. Embarrassed by all the ways he dismissed me constantly.

Embarrassed by how badly I dreamed he’d one day become a better person.

That he’d wake up and realize he’d always wanted to be a dad…instead of endlessly running away from us.

“Are you okay? Who was that?” Eve asked.

“Uh…just my dad leaving a typical Bruce Sullivan-esque voicemail,” I said through clenched teeth. “Nothing to worry about… Let’s head in, shall we?”

Eve’s brows knit together, but then she nodded and followed me up the steps to the small, Victorian-looking building.

I didn’t want to lie to Eve, especially after I’d pushed her to be more honest with me.

But anything about Monty held the echoes of past arguments that I didn’t want to have—which would be made worse when Eve realized that her aunt wasn’t a person to my dad at all.

She was a trophy, something to be won and displayed.

In the very beginning, I’d thought of her in the same way, much as I hated to admit it.

Except none of that mattered now. Monty could stay hidden.

If I was the reporter who broke the story of the Blackburn Diamonds and proved they were real , not an urban legend, then my dad would be forced to admit—

What? my brain said. Forced to admit that he actually loves you?

I tripped and almost fell on the upper step. Eve caught me by the elbow with a slightly concerned look. But I brushed it off with a smile and opened the door, only a little shaken up.

Inside, we were greeted with a sign that read Ask Us About Historical Town Tours .

A bright and airy first floor opened up into rooms with galleries and photographs.

After introducing ourselves to a sweet woman named Cheryl, she got Eve and me set up on the second floor with, she promised, newly digitized newspaper articles and photographs.

Dropping my bag on the upstairs table, I set up my laptop and opened Waylon’s genealogy report. Then I strolled the shelves, trailing my fingers along the spines.

Local history, local authors. Birth and death records, dusty almanacs.

All the minor and major life events that tied this community together, that made this place a home.

Its joys and tragedies, all of its hopes and sorrows.

Priscilla and Adeline could even exist within the pages of one of these records, nothing but a blur of pen strokes as they passed through.

“You look happy to be back in the land of books,” Eve said.

“Euphoric.” I pressed onto my tiptoes to pull down a book at random. “I’m no metal salvager. I don’t know how to find lost treasure. But I love a damn fine story.”

Eve smiled at me, and I was ill-prepared for the intensity there. “This is what you were doing on the day we first met. When you climbed the ladder at The Wreckage. I remember gazing up at you…and thinking you were lovely.”

“Oh…that’s right, I’d forgotten,” I said, yet another lie.

I thought she’d say more, but then she seemed to shake herself, pointing down at the laptops. “Let’s get on the same page about what we’re looking for today.”

“Right, yes,” I said, trying to refocus.

“Our strongest lead is the new information we know about Harry Boyle. So we’re searching for proof in the form of historical evidence that Priscilla or Adeline knew Harry before they came here.

Or had some specific reason to stop here in the first place.

The locket, the eyewitness accounts, the log book… it all takes place in this town.”

Eve grabbed the laptop with the genealogy report and sank back into one of the chairs. “Let me just say how nice it is to be doing historical research for the joy of it and not to impress a bunch of my parents’ friends. I’ll see if I can put my almost PhD skills to good use.”

I bit my lip. “It looks good on you. Doing things for the joy of it.”

Eve pressed an extremely gallant kiss to the top of my hand. My knight in shining armor, as always. Then she dove into the research while I pulled up newspaper articles from 1900, immersing myself in the lives of people here in Haven’s Bluff more than a century ago.

We passed the next hour in pleasant semi-silence, only breaking it to muse on something we’d read or to show the other person a fascinating tidbit.

We moved around the room easily—I paced with the laptop while Eve ended up sprawled on the ground, back against a chair.

In fact, I was so deep in reading that I was startled when Eve called out my name.

“Harper, look at this,” she was saying. “I’ve been going through the genealogy information about Harry, which also tracked some of his movements in the country if there were ways to fact-check it. Like newspaper articles and census data.”

I leaned over her shoulder, scanning the article. “Hold up…this says Harry Boyle did go to New York City. At least one time.”

“And it was two years before Priscilla and Adeline escaped. Per the article, Harry was visiting family that lived in Manhattan. His uncle, the mayor of New York at the time, and his two adult cousins. It’s why there’s a newspaper write-up about the cousins visiting Coney Island.”

“In… August 1898 ,” I read. “Holy shit. Okay, so, we at least have proof that Harry Boyle and Priscilla Blackburn were both in New York City at the same time. That’s something.”

Goose bumps were starting to shiver across my skin.

“And here he is again,” Eve said. “Harry’s still in New York, still being photographed because he’s tagging along with his famous cousins. Looks like they attended a co-ed charity fundraiser hosted by a local women’s circle.”

Eve turned the laptop screen around and showed it to me. A million alarm bells went off in my head, and my heart almost shot through my chest.

“What…what, do you recognize it?” Eve asked urgently.

I was digging through my bag, looking for the picture Kristi had sent me of Priscilla and Adeline at that women’s circle together.

Clutching it, I held that image up to Eve’s screen.

To the left of Priscilla, in the original picture, there had been half of a suited leg and a shiny shoe.

The leg and shiny shoe belonged to Harry Boyle.

“Holy shit, holy shit,” Eve breathed.

I grabbed Eve’s arm. “They knew each other. At the very least met each other.”

She was tapping at the screen. “And the man next to Harry isn’t his cousin. That’s Eugene , his partner.”