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IN THE ARCHIVE, RILEY shared Jack’s relief and disappointment. He was safe, but Cole had gotten away. She pulled the Huntington file from the box, its “unsolved” notation catching her eye. The tightness in her shoulders eased as she steadied her hand to replace the file. Her helping Jack hadn’t affected the outcome of the case.
The day passed quickly, with Nick popping in once to introduce a new colleague he had been assigned to train. Riley gave him a quick overview of the archives. After they left, she noticed her phone’s light flashing. She called her voice mail and listened to Johnny explain that he had some time this afternoon and would appreciate seeing her. She dialled the number he left.
“Johnny Winston here.”
“Hi, Johnny. It’s Riley Finch. From the museum.”
“Thanks for calling me back, Riley. I’m nearby and was hoping you might have time for coffee. I found something.”
“About your great-grandfather?”
“Yeah, I thought it might interest you.”
Riley’s heart rate picked up. “It does. When were you thinking?”
“Ten minutes?”
“Will you come to the museum, or do you want me to meet you somewhere?”
“I’ll come to you. See you soon.”
Riley removed her sweater and checked her blouse for visible signs of her lunch. Seemed presentable. She locked the archive door and headed to the entrance to meet Johnny.
The spring sun’s light caught the bright lining of his suit as he climbed the museum’s steps. She took a couple of calming breaths.
“I’m glad we could connect again.” Johnny smiled broadly. “Do you want to get a coffee? Or it’s such a nice day ... we could go for a walk?”
Riley brushed her nose with her fingers. “A walk?”
“Yeah. I mean, you must know so much about the history of the city. How about a little tour?”
She checked her watch. “I have nothing prepared. And I don’t really have much time.”
Johnny took a step back. “What about later? I just want to thank you. After speaking to you before, I felt such a connection to my past.”
Fingertips buzzing, Riley pictured Jack sitting in his rooms, hand poised over the journal. “What about tonight? After work?”
He grinned. “I can do that. Should I meet you back here?”
“That works for me. I can be ready at five thirty.”
“Great.” He turned to leave.
“What were you going to show me?” Riley asked.
“I’ll show you later!” he called over his shoulder as he descended to the street.
RILEY WAITED UNTIL the water spewing from the tap cooled before she splashed it on her face. She examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Had Jack’s great-grandson just asked her out? And she agreed? She smiled back at herself and tried to tame her stray hairs.
She spent the last part of the afternoon reviewing the text for the printed descriptions of artifacts for the exhibit and for the web pages that would support it. At twenty-five past five, her cursor hovered over the Send button on her email. When she clicked, everything would be out of her hands. Tomorrow she would start working on another project. She closed her eyes and released the mouse. Riley closed everything down and packed up to leave, checking that the journal was in her bag.
Johnny stood at the bottom of the museum’s steps, grinding his toe into the cement. His casual clothes looked as good as his suit had earlier in the day. He held a light grey sweater in his hand and a backpack was slung over his shoulder, making him look like a student. The student illusion was shattered when she saw his expensive sneakers, favoured by many in the city. She’d heard Jules rave about the local brand. Jules and Johnny shared good taste.
“Good afternoon?” Johnny asked as Riley approached him.
“Yes, actually. I sent in my part of the project.” She pulled her jacket closer, surprised at the coolness of the spring evening.
“That sounds like a big step.”
“It’s a little nerve-racking, if I’m honest.”
“I’m the same; I get a little antsy when I file paperwork with the court, even though I’ve done it many times.”
She grinned. “This was my first time.”
Johnny planted both feet on the ground in an exaggerated motion. “We should celebrate!”
“I thought you wanted a tour?”
“I do. Can I convince you to go for a drink afterwards?”
Riley stared at the pavement in front of her, nerves filling her mouth with marbles. “Uh, sure. Okay. But let’s walk first.”
Riley walked the first half block in uncomfortable silence, unsure what to say. When they passed a building that had housed one of the city’s first department stores, she willed herself to relax and slipped into the role of guide. She shared the names of the original retail tenants of the buildings, now home to tourist shops and restaurants. Occasionally she’d expand on an early crime that had taken place back in the time of Johnny’s great-grandfather. They wandered west through downtown, with Johnny asking thoughtful questions about different police investigation techniques and when the city’s force had adopted them.
With their conversation feeling easy, Riley paid little attention to where they were until something made her stop in front of a low-rise apartment building. She had brought Johnny to the place where Doctor Cole’s house once stood. A lump formed in her throat as she pictured Jack Winston, Walter Huntington, Edmund Chase—and perhaps others—trapped inside the house. She blinked away a tear. “Your great-grandfather investigated a crime that took place at this address when a house stood here. It isn’t in the exhibit, but I learned a little about it in my research. He never received recognition for solving the crime, and the case was never officially solved, but your great-grandfather knew who had abducted and killed at least two young men.”
“If the case wasn’t solved, how do you know he knew who committed the crimes?”
“I found some notes your great-grandfather wrote. He goes into some detail about this investigation.” She put her hand on her bag, pulling it close to her body. “The man who lived here disappeared before your great-grandfather could reveal the truth.”
“Can I see the notes? I bet they’re fascinating.”
“They’re not part of the exhibit.”
Johnny’s face fell. “Another time?” He started to walk in the direction they’d come from. “Shall we get that drink? I still want to show you something.”
Riley bit her lip. “Actually, would you mind if we got a coffee instead? I’m a bit of a lightweight.”
“Sure. I should have an early night, anyway. I have to deliver a presentation first thing and should review my notes tonight.” Hurt clouded Johnny’s face.
“Let’s have a drink another night,” Riley offered. “What about the night of the opening? Your great-grandfather is being profiled.”
Johnny smiled. “It’s a plan. For now, let’s find somewhere warm.” He tugged at his sweater, and Riley wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck.
Once they settled inside a quiet coffee shop with their drinks, Riley stared at her mug, willing Johnny to say something. Without city sights to focus on, her mouth filled with marbles again. Johnny reached his hand across the table, and Riley braced for the touch of his hand. At the last moment, he grasped a packet of sugar, adding it to the three others he’d already poured into his mug. She shifted in the booth and slapped her palms on the table. “That was much more dramatic than I planned,” she laughed. “What did you want to show me?”
“I searched through a box of my grandfather’s things. Old photos, birth certificate, even his high school diploma. There was an envelope addressed to someone named Riley. But my grandmother’s name was Rose.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Anyway, the handwriting was different, older, and I could tell from the shape and weight that it was a book, so I opened it,” Johnny continued. “And it wasn’t my grandfather who wrote it. It was his father, my great-grandfather, Jack Winston.” He stirred his drink. “What do you think? Some coincidence, huh?”
“Do you have the book?” Riley whispered, forming the words carefully. “Here?”
Johnny reached into his backpack.
Riley held her hand up. “Wait. I don’t want to see it.”
Confusion crossed Johnny’s face.
Riley stirred her own drink, searching for words. “I mean, I don’t want to see it here. Given its age, the museum might be a better place to show me. But only if you want to. If it’s not an official police document, it’s not likely something the museum would want, though, so don’t worry about us keeping it.” She cupped her hands around her mug. “What a neat piece of family history to find.”
“There are just a few lines inside. The rest of the book is empty. I don’t know why my grandfather would have even kept it.”
Jack knew it would get to her. She extended her hand. “Let me take a look.”
Johnny fished a yellowed envelope from his backpack and slid it across the table. Hands shaking, Riley eased the book from the envelope.
Dear Riley,
For you to share your thoughts. I hope to hear from you again soon.
With fondness,
Jack Winston
Riley read the note several times, fighting tears as she closed the book. Like their current journal, this one didn’t appear to have aged since Jack had put it in the envelope. Her hand shook as she brought her mug to her lips. After an overlong moment where she pretended to sip, she set the mug down. “I don’t think this is something the museum would want.”
Johnny smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He pulled his hand through his hair. “Listen, I know the book wasn’t intended for you, but would you like it? Since your name is already in it? Whoever my great-grandfather intended it for is long dead.”
Riley rested her hand on the cover. There were still several blank pages in the journal she and Winston had been using, but he must have realized they’d run out at some point. It was something she hadn’t wanted to think about, how they’d continue to correspond when the book was full. “That would be—” She bit her cheek. “Thank you. I will use it.” She nestled the book beside the journal in her bag. “I—I just remembered I forgot to do something at work. I need to go.”
Johnny stood. “I should get home to review for tomorrow. Thanks for seeing me today.”
Riley smiled, still thinking about her gift.
“Can I still attend the opening?”
“Yes, please do.” Riley’s stomach fluttered.
Johnny reached forward and squeezed her arm. “I will. See you soon, Riley.”