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)
Chaos erupts. Shouting, movement, what sounds like furniture toppling. The security man turns toward the stairs, torn between his duty and the disaster unfolding below.
I don’t wait. “Finn, come.”
We push past him, down the stairs, through the kitchen, out into the cold December night. Behind us, blue and red lights suddenly illuminate the cottage as police cars converge from the access road.
I keep running until I reach Tommy’s position, Finn loping beside me. Only then do I turn, breathing hard, and watch officers enter the cottage.
“You got it?” Tommy asks.
I pat my backpack. “The star. The logbook. And something else Dad left behind.”
An hour later, the cottage has transformed into a crime scene. Reeves and his security team sit in police vehicles, their careful plans collapsed. Chief Barnes has taken statements from all of us, his expression suggesting both irritation and grudging respect.
Dawson finds me standing apart from the activity, Finn pressed against my leg.
“You could have told me,” I say before he can speak. “Instead of cryptic warnings and misdirection.”
He sighs, looking every one of his seventy-plus years. “Samuel and I had our falling out, but when Reeves approached me about coastal properties, I recognized what he really wanted. I couldn’t let him destroy what your father spent years documenting.”
“So you played double agent.”
“I fed Reeves information to maintain access while building a case with the preservation office. The warnings I left you—I genuinely wanted you to stay safe. But when you kept investigating anyway . . .” A ghost of a smile. “You’re Samuel’s daughter, through and through.”
I think of Dad’s backup envelope, addressed and ready. “He knew something might happen. He prepared for it.”
“He prepared for everything. That’s why his documentation is airtight. Reeves never stood a chance, not really. He just didn’t know it.”
Sid approaches, and Dawson steps away with a nod.
“Quite an evening,” Sid says.
“You kept him talking long enough for me to find everything.”
“I had excellent material. Grandfather’s obsession with Portuguese shipwrecks turns out to be useful for something besides awkward family dinners.” He pauses. “I should have told you about the family connection earlier. The collecting, the interest in the Salvador Mundi. I’ve spent years distancing myself from it, but that’s not an excuse for omission.”
“Dawson suggested you might have ulterior motives.”
“Did you believe him?”
I consider the question honestly. “I considered it. But you’ve had plenty of chances to act against me, and you haven’t. You’ve just . . . helped.”
“That’s all I wanted to do.”
Chief Barnes approaches with an update. The star and logbook will remain in police custody overnight for documentation, but should be released by morning—plenty of time for the auction. Dad’s backup materials have been transferred to Dr. Mitchell at the preservation office. The lighthouse cellar wall will be professionally excavated tomorrow.
“Your father’s discovery is officially protected,” Barnes tells me. “The Salvador Mundi site will receive historical designation. No development, no black-market sales. It stays where it belongs—preserved for study.”
As the police activity winds down and we prepare to leave, I realize the weight I’ve carried since the star vanished has finally lifted. Not because the mystery is solved, but because Dad’s work is safe. His careful documentation will ensure the Salvador Mundi and whatever lies in that lighthouse cellar wall receives proper treatment.
The star will return to fulfill its original purpose at the auction, supporting the conservation fund Dad established. Its secret role complete, it can simply be what I created it to be: a memorial to our last months together, built from pieces of our shared story.
“Tomorrow’s going to be busy,” Sid observes as we reach our cars.
“The auction. The excavation. Probably media interest once word spreads.”
“Then we should get some rest.” He hesitates. “Unless you’d like company for a while. I make decent hot chocolate, and I suspect neither of us will sleep easily after tonight.”
Finn looks up at me, then at Sid, tail swaying gently.
“Hot chocolate sounds good,” I admit.
We drive in separate cars to Sid’s apartment above the gallery, Finn claiming the passenger seat with his usual dignity. The familiar streets of Seacliff Haven glitter with Christmas lights, the town unaware of the drama that unfolded at its edges.
Tomorrow brings revelations and resolutions. Tonight, unexpected companionship feels like exactly what I need.
Chapter Nine
Three days after Reeves’s arrest, I stood in the lighthouse cellar watching Dr. Caroline Mitchell’s team extract a small wooden box from the wall. Sid stood beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. Finn sat at our feet, his role in the investigation earning him a special exception to the “no dogs at archaeological sites” rule.
“Remarkable preservation,” Dr. Mitchell murmured, lifting the lid with gloved hands.
The Star of Sebastian caught the work lights—a brass and silver disc about six inches across, its surface covered in intricate markings. Not star-shaped at all, but named for its creator, Captain Sebastian Mateus. A navigational device centuries ahead of its time.