Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“I’m not a visitor,” Reeves corrects. “I’m representing the new owners of the adjacent property, conducting due diligence regarding structural supports that may affect both properties.”
The explanation sounds rehearsed, a paper-thin cover for his true interest in the cellar. His gaze shifts to the wall section we had been examining, confirming my suspicion that he knows exactly what might be hidden there.
“We were just leaving,” Sid says, moving to position himself between Reeves and me.
“Not quite yet,” Reeves counters. “Ms. Lane and I have unfinished business regarding her driftwood creation.”
“You stole it,” I state. “Return it, and we can all move on.”
Reeves sighs. “The star contains information that rightfully belongs to my investors. Information your father acquired without proper authority.”
“You mean documented before your development plans could destroy it,” Tommy interjects. “Samuel was following proper archaeological protocols.”
“He was interfering with legitimate business interests,” Reeves snaps, his polished facade cracking momentarily. “Just as his daughter continues to do.”
Finn moves closer to me, his protective instincts fully engaged. The two men with Reeves watch him warily, clearly recognizing the Giant Schnauzer as a potential threat.
“What exactly do you want, Reeves?” Sid asks.
“The completing elements Samuel Lane discovered,” Reeves answers. “We have the star, but haven’t been able to decipher all its clues. We know the final piece is here, in this lighthouse.”
“And if we help you find it?” I ask, playing for time while considering our limited options.
“You get your sentimental creation returned, we acquire a historically interesting artifact, and development proceeds as planned. Everyone wins.”
Except history, preservation, and my father’s legacy, I think but don’t say aloud.
“What makes this Star of Sebastian so valuable to your investors?” Sid inquires, his tone conversational despite the tension filling the small space.
Reeves studies Sid. “A Gillespie would understand its significance better than most. Your grandfather sought it for decades, I believe.”
So Reeves knows about Sid’s family connection to maritime artifacts. The knowledge feels dangerous, suggesting his research extends beyond development opportunities to the personal histories of those who might oppose him.
“My grandfather collected historical objects,” Sid acknowledges. “I create art from driftwood. Different approaches to appreciating maritime heritage.”
“Both ultimately possessive,” Reeves observes. “Regardless, the Star of Sebastian represents a significant historical innovation. Properly authenticated, it would command an extraordinary price in certain private markets.”
“Black markets,” Tommy states.
Reeves doesn’t bother denying the accusation. “Specialized markets for discerning collectors. The development project is merely the visible business operation. The true opportunity lies beneath these waters.”
His candor confirms my worst fears about his intentions. Not preservation, not even legitimate development, but exploitation of historical artifacts for private gain.
“We don’t know where the Star of Sebastian is,” I tell him. “Dad never shared that information with me.”
“But he encoded its location in your driftwood creation,” Reeves counters. “The star points to the star, a rather poetic approach. We’ve analyzed the construction thoroughly, but certain elements remain unclear.”
The thought of strangers dismantling my careful creation, examining the pieces Dad and I collected together, fills me with renewed anger. “You’ve damaged it?”
“Examined it,” Reeves corrects. “The hollow space between the backing boards contained a microfilm with coordinates and authentication details, but part of the information appears to be missing. We believe the final element is here, in this cellar.”
So that’s how Dad had hidden the documentation. Microfilm inserted between the two backing pieces of the star, containing information that would authenticate the Salvador Mundi site and the Star of Sebastian itself.
“Even if we helped you,” Sid says, “what guarantee do we have that you’d return Marnie’s star or properly preserve the historical artifacts?”
“You have my word as a businessman,” Reeves replies, the platitude sounding hollow in the stone chamber.
“Not good enough,” I state.
Reeves sighs. “Then perhaps this will motivate cooperation.” He gestures to one of his men, who produces a phone and displays a photo on the screen.
The image shows my driftwood star, intact but obviously removed from its display context. Beside it sits a small bundle wrapped in protective cloth.
“The star and what we believe is the logbook mentioned in Samuel’s notes,” Reeves explains. “Both currently in our possession at a secure location. Help us locate the final piece, and you can have the star back today. Continue interfering, and we’ll be forced to take more aggressive measures to protect our investment.”
The thinly veiled threat hangs in the air between us. Finn senses my tension, pressing against my leg.
“Samuel Lane discovered the Star of Sebastian, didn’t he?” Sid asks suddenly. “That’s why you’re so desperate to find whatever’s hidden in this wall. You need authentication elements to pair with what he already found.”
Reeves doesn’t confirm the speculation directly, but his expression shifts. “Your father was thorough,” he tells me. “Too thorough for his own good.”
The implication that Dad’s discovery might have contributed to his death sends a cold wave through me, despite Dawson’s assurance that the heart attack had been medically verified.