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Beverly popped a couple of pain pills with some apple seltzer water. She hadn’t lied to Adam about her headache, but that wasn’t the main reason she’d declined his dinner invitation. Again. Fair was fair since he’d declined hers once, too, right? Even if it was to protect her.
Adam thought the whole Forsythe saga was winding down, and it wouldn’t be much longer at all until they had that evil bastard behind bars. The case was coming to a close and so was one of the two main reasons she’d stayed in Ironwood Junction this long.
What was it like to stay in one place for longer than a week? Or two? It had been years for her. Five long years. Moving around from one hotel, one hostel, one flophouse to the next. Always trying to stay ahead of her targets and law enforcement. But now, she’d really gotten herself trapped in a web of her own making, surrounded by both targets and law enforcement.
Was she getting that careless? Or was this the fork-in-the-road that would finally break her free from her perpetual cycle of criminal hide-and-seek? On the other hand, it was possible she wasn’t tired of that lifestyle. Maybe she thrived on it, lived for it. An adrenaline junkie.
Beverly hadn’t felt this unsure of herself in a very, very long while. And she didn’t like that feeling, not one bit. She was always the one in charge of her own destiny, the lone ship needing no port and no anchor. But once the Forsythe case was finally and truly over, what was next? Get a real job? She had no résumé and no references.
The stress of even thinking about that question and its complicated list of possible answers made her grab Kornelson’s treasure map and her notes. Even though she’d studied the damned map hundreds of times, she must have missed something important. Reggie Forsythe allegedly hadn’t found the silver statue, so it must be out there somewhere. But she was running out of leads and time.
What was this “monument” Kornelson had referred to, the site of the statue burial? Was it just a play on words as Harland had suggested to her and not an actual place? She ran through her notes, again and again, page after page after page. But all she got from her labors was for the headache to get worse.
Time for the Jacuzzi? No, too hot. Wine, then? Despite the fact it might help her headache, she didn’t want her thought processes dulled any further.
She stood up and paced around the room, ignoring how the sudden blood flow was making the throbbing of her head worse. Why had Adam’s phone call not cheered her up? Why did she still have a bad feeling about all of this? It wasn’t just the headache, she was sure of that. Then what?
Images from the past several days kept coming back to her no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay. The red-stained rug under her grandfather as he lay on the floor with his head bashed in. Adam being kidnapped and pepper-sprayed. The panic as she and Adam almost drowned in that pond—she’d never forget the smell of the mud, the fish, and the algae, and the rotten-egg odor from decomposing debris in those murky waters.
Adam had said she was tough. Well, she was tough. She hadn’t let a little murder, kidnapping or near-drowning get her down, right? Well, then, if you’re such a Superwoman, explain why you’re so jumpy.
She was so deep in thought, it took her a while to realize her cellphone was ringing. It was Mr. X. “Beverly, I need you here. And I need you here now.” His voice sounded unusually agitated.
“Whatever has happened? Are you all right?”
“I can’t explain over the phone, but you must come right away. Don’t dawdle. And don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be waiting anxiously and won’t rest until your arrival.”
After he hung up, Beverly sat there, wondering what was going on, wondering what she should do. Once again following her sixth sense formed from those years of being on the run, she grabbed her suitcase, notes, map, and purse. Then she practically flew out the door, through the lobby, and outside to her car.
“Hold on, Mr. X, I’m on my way,” she said aloud as she peeled out of the parking lot so fast, the SUV’s tires screeched their disapproval. What she needed was to stop second-guessing herself, even as she wondered once again if she was doing the right thing.
