CHAPTER 29

  

“Hey,” Lane said directly in my ear. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He stepped up beside me, a fine layer of dust covering his clothing. He looked even taller than usual. He stood on a fat root of the tree, resting his hand on the trunk next to me.

“You’re awfully close to the edge,” he said. “Be careful, it looked like you were daydreaming or something. I don’t need to remind you about other ‘accidents’ that have happened on these cliffs.”

When I didn’t answer immediately, he studied my face.

“What is it?”

“Not here,” I said quietly.

“We’re on a break now,” he whispered. “We can go talk somewhere.”

“It’s not lunchtime yet, is it? It’s only around eleven.”

“We’re in Britain. I thought you knew this place.”

I looked over and saw Knox pouring tea out of a thermos.

“Honey,” Lane said loudly, “let’s go look around.”

He took my hand in his and pulled me away from the edge of the precipice. His hand was warm and strong. He led me south of the dig. We walked in silence until we found a flat, wide-open space. We’d be sure to see anyone approaching long before they were within earshot. I realized my hand was still in Lane’s even after we were long past the crew’s field of view. Oddly, it felt so natural that I hadn’t given it a second thought. I let go of his hand as we sat down on two relatively dry rocks. Lane looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I opened my mouth, and then realized I had no idea where to start.

“You know how fictional detectives on TV always have their ‘ah-ha!’ moments,” I blurted out, “where everything clicks into place?”

Lane waited for me to go on.

“Where the detective does something like dipping her spoon into the sugar tray,” I said, “and the sugar sticks to the wet spoon, so she looks at the spoon and says ‘Ah ha! Of course!’ Because her subconscious has realized the fundamentally different way that things fit together when you do something differently.”

“Jones,” he said. “I hate to break it to you, but those moments are there to create a neat and tidy solution for the viewer.”

“I’m trying to explain something important. Didn’t you used to be a good listener? Just pretend I’m Fiona.”

He was silent.

I took a breath. “We’ve been looking at this whole thing in the wrong way.”

“Oh!” Lane said, sounding interested for the first time during the conversation. “You found a clue in someone’s room?”

“What? Oh! Yes. I mean no. I mean, I thought so. Knox had a Gregor Estate pamphlet in his room.”

“So you were right after all,” Lane said. “I should have paid more attention while we were there. But we can go back—”

“No, let me finish. He had a lot of random items. No one had any dastardly plans tacked up on their walls. My idea doesn’t have anything to do with something I found.”

“Really? Then wouldn’t a better analogy be that the detective looked at a clock through a water glass and the time was backwards? That way it’s not a physical thing that has changed. Only her perception changed. The way she was looking at something.”

“That’s quite clever,” I said through gritted teeth, “but right now I need you to be a little less pedantic. What I’m trying to say is that we’ve been assuming that the treasure Rupert is after is the same one you know about. But what if we misinterpreted his note? Or if he purposefully misled me to entice me here? It wasn’t as if there was much to go on. Remember, even though he’d been at the British Library for days, he hadn’t requested any information about the Mughals and their treasure. He was doing something else.

“I don’t know what he’s been up to for the past year. For all I know, he could have been involved in all sorts of crazy schemes with Knox—the bracelet having been just one of them. What if his motive wasn’t to help him find some far-off Indian treasure? He wanted me to help him here. On this dig. When I saw him he kept talking about a treasure, but he didn’t say which treasure.

“Think about what I told you he said to me on the train. He carefully omitted all references to what the treasure was. You weren’t there for the whole evening last night, so you didn’t see how Fergus and Angus reacted to me—”

“I saw enough.”

“Then you understand my point. The way Fergus reacted to me was especially spooky. He seriously believed I was a fairy, one they called a bean nighe, who brings death. At least for a little while. But even after that he told me all sorts of fairy legends. They seemed wary of the other members of the dig, though. Remember when you entered the pub, they scurried off to their own separate table?”

“You think your ex wanted you to get Fergus and Angus to tell you the local legends that only they remember, leading him to a treasure.”

“Exactly. Knox and Rupert had to have something specific to go on, something that would make them think there was real treasure here. Fiona was on this dig from the beginning, and she and Knox are going out. At least they were until you came along. Anyway, she could easily have told him about something that turned up at the dig. Looking down at the cave made me put it together. The cave would be a perfect place to bury a treasure. A folklore one and a real one. And did you notice how protective Knox was about not blocking off the cave?”

I pulled my knees against my body. The wind was getting crisper.

“That’s a compelling idea,” Lane said, “except that it’s so far-fetched that it doesn’t make sense.”

“I knew it!” I said, standing up and jumping around to keep warm. “I knew you wouldn’t want to let go of your apocryphal Indian treasure that will make your career.”

“This has to be about the Rajasthan Rubies.”

I stopped jumping and stared at him across the heather. “What did you say?”

“I was talking about the treasure.”

My head spun as I realized what he was saying.

“You lied to me!” I yelled. “You’ve known what it was this whole time. What else have you lied to me about?”