Sydney jumped, and a few people screamed and laughed.
“I have been accused because of the following reason—are you ready?”
A few people called out “Yes,” but Sydney wasn’t having it. She yelled louder. “I asked thee, are you ready?”
Nearly the whole graveyard answered back, “Yes!”
That was my cue. I reached in and took out my pocketknife. After a quick glance around, I worked it around the brick as Sydney kept talking.
Jesus, this really is a scene straight out of a damn movie.
“I have been accused of witchcraft because I apparently can assume the form of a… blue boar!”
I could hear laughter.
“’Tis true! Doth thou not believe me?” Sydney cried out.
“What other animal can you change into?” a male voice called out.
The brick moved some, and I quickly worked it free.
Sydney lowered her voice. “Oh, we have a wise one among us, do we?”
The crowd in the graveyard chuckled.
I pulled the brick out and looked into the space.
Nothing.
“Shit, she’s going to kill me.”
Then I remembered her Nicolas Cage reference, and I turned the brick over. Stuffed inside it was a piece of paper. I quickly pulled it out and pushed the brick back into its space.
“You’re not the only one who can find things, Nic.”
People were now yelling out different animals.
Smiling at everyone gathered around her, I walked up and said, “We need to go.”
Sydney gently pushed me away and whispered, “I’m in character.”
Laughter erupted.
With my hands held up, I shouted, “I’m her drama teacher. This was an impromptu performance. How did she do, folks?”
“I hope you give her an A!” a little girl called out. A few others agreed and stated Sydney deserved an A.
With a smile, I replied, “Then an A she shall get!”
Everyone cheered. Some came up to Sydney and told her to keep working at her craft. A few wished her well. One woman asked if she was doing any plays because she would like to attend. Most walked away.
By the time everyone had moved on, Sydney had a huge smile on her face. She turned to face me, and my heart stalled for a moment in my chest. Those big blue eyes of hers were filled with delight. I loved that she was able to see the joys in life. She was unlike any woman I had ever met.
And she was mine.
“So, Professor McHotty, I got an A, eh? Do you think it’s just an A, or an A-plus, or an A-plus-plus?”
My eyes widened. “It was a pretty stellar performance.”
She jumped up and hugged me.
“Did you find anything?” she whispered in my ear before pulling away from me.
I held her hand as we walked toward the entrance. “Yes, in true Nicolas Cage fashion, too.”
Sydney giggled. “I saw a coffee shop right up the road.”
We quickly covered the short distance to the coffee shop. Sitting outside at a table, I carefully took the note out and handed it to Sydney. I’d found the last clue, so I wanted her to see this one first.
She took it and ever so gently unfolded the note as she looked around. Now she was making me think someone was watching us.
“It’s a letter. ‘To my darling wife. If you are reading this, then you have found the clues I have left for you. I found myself involved with a group in which I had complete faith in the beginning, but in the end, one I was desperate to get out of. The Truth-seekers will set us free. They must. They are the only ones to expose the truths.’ ” Sydney paused before reading the next line.
“What you thought you knew was only what they wanted you to know.”
“There’s that quote again,” I said when Sydney looked up at me.
“So Robert Collins was an Alchemist turned Truth-seeker?”
I nodded. “It appears so.”
“There’s more. It goes on to say, ‘The truth of Thomas Hutchinson can be found among the books,’ and it is signed R. Collins. The handwriting is different though.”
Sydney met my gaze. “Why would he sign a note to his wife as R. Collins?”
Rubbing my chin, I glanced down to the note again. The word Veritas was written under Collins’s name but was in the same penmanship as the sentence above it. Like someone had added to the note at a later date.
“Maybe it wasn’t him who wrote that last line. I know what library we need to go to.”
Sydney looked back down at the letter and back up at me, and a wide smile spread across her face.
“Harvard,” I said.
“Yes! Veritas is their motto; it means truth. Maybe his wife never found this and someone else added the clue to it.”
“The son, maybe?”
She shrugged. “I honestly cannot believe my grandfather knew this was all going to lead to this. I’m baffled by all of this. Mike, I think this is a lot bigger than what we’d originally thought.”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We’ll go check out the library at Harvard University. There has to be something there.”
Sydney stood and reached for my hand as we headed back to the parking lot.
“Where do we even begin, Mike? It’s Harvard.”
“There is only one place I can think of to go. We start where Collins told us to. The library. There is a historical section there. I say we go there first.”
We walked a few minutes in silence, each of us trying to wrap our thoughts around everything we’d found.
“Okay. Thomas Hutchinson. Who is he?” she asked.
“He was a loyalist before the American Revolution. Then he worked his way up to governor until 1774 when they pretty much kicked him out, and he left for England. He wasn’t a very well-liked guy.”
“Why not?”
I unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for Sydney.
“Neither side cared for him—British or American. Samuel Adams didn’t like him because Hutchinson was for British taxes. The British thought he was a troublemaker. He was eventually exiled to Great Britain.”
Sydney looked up at me from where she was sitting in the car. “What in the world does this man have to do with all of this? And why was Vickie involved in any of it?”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I exhaled. “I have no idea. Let’s head over there, and if we don’t find anything, maybe we can dig more into his life.”
“Okay.”
Two hours later, Sydney and I sat down at a large oak table in the historical section of the Harvard library. We hadn’t found anything. Sydney’s unease about someone possibly following us had put me on alert. The only thing that had seemed odd to me was a couple that was sitting at one of the tables in the library. I swore I’d seen them earlier at the coffee shop, but the longer I watched them, the more I realized it was my mind playing with me. There was no way this couple had been following us. I’d have noticed. Then again, I had brushed off Sydney’s unease and hadn’t really been paying attention. Shit, I was losing my touch when this woman was around me. That, or I was getting caught up in this little adventure we were on.
“I don’t know where else to look or what to look for?”
It hit me when I looked past her to the other side of the library. “Syd, we’ve been looking all over this library for the symbol. It’s been right in front of us the whole time.”
She quickly looked around. “Where is it?”
“No, it’s not the symbol we are looking for. It’s Thomas Hutchinson.”
I pointed to the painting across the room. It was a portrait of Thomas Hutchinson, and he was holding a book in his hands. Sydney looked at it and gasped.
We quietly made our way over to the painting.
“Do you think there is something behind the painting?” she asked.
I studied the painting. He was holding a book. “History of Massachusetts.”
Sydney leaned in closer
and looked at the book.
“We need to find that book,” I stated. “Hutchinson wrote it. There should be three volumes.”
“I keep forgetting you have a history degree.”
I chuckled. “I have a bachelor’s degree in history and went on for my criminal justice degree.”
“That makes so much sense now. I am really getting turned on by your amazing detective skills.”
With a quick kiss on her lips, I replied, “I have more skills than just detective work. Mostly in the bedroom.”
“Now that is just mean. We’re in the middle of a library, and you’re talking dirty to me?”
I winked and walked over to the information desk.
“Do you have a copy of History of Massachusetts by Thomas Hutchinson?”
The librarian gave me a polite smile. “Yes, it’s in our historical alumni room.”
Sydney and I stole a glance at each other before I focused back on the older woman.
“Is it open to the public?”
“Yes, of course. No one is ever really interested in going in there, so it’s refreshing to see some interest in our history.”
“I’m a history major,” I added.
The librarian smiled bigger.
“Follow me, I’ll show you where it is.”
Sydney poked me in the side as she walked by me. “She was flirting with you, Officer McHotty.”
I rolled my eyes and followed the librarian and Sydney. The room was upstairs and in the far back right corner.
“Just turn off the lights when you are finished, please.”
“We will, thank you,” Sydney said, shutting the door and turning to face me.
“Okay, so this makes more sense.” The old wooden shelves looked to be a few hundred years old. I could smell the must of old books. “This is an old room. If there is a clue in here, surely we’ll find it.”
“I’ll look for the book; you take a look around.”
It didn’t take me long to find the book. I pulled it out and looked around on the bookshelf. It was a normal bookshelf.
“Mike. Look.”
I walked over to the other side of the room and looked at the fireplace. “It couldn’t be that easy.”
“It could. Look closer at the side of the mantel.”
Leaning in, I saw the Truth-seekers symbol carved into the wood. It was small and not as clear as the others we’d seen, as if someone had been in a rush when they made it. The only way you would notice it was if you were looking for it.
“If it’s another secret passage, I’m not going in it.”
I laughed. “No, look at the bookshelves on either side. They are almost exactly like the ones in your house.”
Sydney stared at them. “Oh my gosh, you’re right.”
As I walked over to the right side, I pulled a few books out and handed them to Sydney. Knocking on the wood, I could tell then the sound changed from solid to hollow.
“Where is the lever on yours?” I asked.
“Wait. In the original letter we read from Quinn, she stated to open the compartment by doing something to the sconces.”
I reached up and gently pulled on the sconce. It didn’t take much effort to feel it slip to the side.
“Mike! It moved!”
“Hopefully, I’m not breaking it,” I said as I moved it a little more and felt a click.
“The door popped open!” Sydney rushed over and looked inside. “It’s a small journal!”
“Grab it and start taking pictures of it.”
“Why don’t we just take it?” she asked. “Mike, no one knows it is here. Look at the dust on this thing. It hasn’t been touched in over a hundred years, I bet.”
“Syd, I already feel a weight of guilt knowing I took the letter from the graveyard. If we take this journal, it’s stealing.”
“From who? It’s been here for years.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. A part of me knew it was wrong to take it and I struggled with the need to leave it. I had taken the paper without a second thought, though, caught up in the moment of it all. The other part of me knew Sydney was right, and these all seemed to be clues left behind for people to find.
“Okay, let’s put these books back,” I said, finally deciding that no one was ever going to find this journal if it had been there all these years.
I turned the sconce back to the right position while Sydney put the books back.
“What about Thomas Hutchinson’s book?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t think it holds any clues. Let’s take this and head on back to Provincetown.”
“There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t think I can wait that long to go through the journal. I need to see what’s in it.” She chewed on her lip in the most adorable way.
“We have two options. Stay with my dad tonight or get a hotel here.”
“Option number two, please. I… uhh… you know… We… uh… maybe… Do I have to keep going, or are you getting my drift?”
“Option two it is.”
An hour later, Sydney and I were in a room at the Marriott on the wharf. Sydney sat on the bed and held the journal while I took a seat in the chair across from her.
She took a deep breath. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Ready.”
She opened the journal, and her mouth fell open.
“What! What is it?”
She lifted her eyes from the book. “It’s Quinn’s.”
“Quinn Soloman?”
She nodded.
“Read it! What does it say?”
Sydney began to read from the journal.
My Dearest Father.
Jonathon and I have been on quite an adventure. At times, the danger was so great, I thought for sure the Alchemists had found us. We will continue our quest in seeking the truth. It goes much deeper than any of us ever thought. Father, I am not sure where the truth ends and the lie begins.
We did meet a young man by the name of William Collins. He told us of a story his father had entrusted with him. He is a Truth-seeker as well. He is fearful for his life though, for the story that he has told us is shocking. Mr. Collins conveyed the belief that the midnight raid in the Boston Harbor was brought on by members of the Alchemists attempting to be rid of Thomas Hutchinson, who was governor of Massachusetts at the time. They arranged for the British Army to shoot into the crowd that fateful day, the 5th of March, 1770, hoping the mob would force Hutchinson to abandon the office. When that did not drive him out, they arranged for a mob to enter his house and destroy it. They were plotting an assassination of Hutchinson, which was to have taken place during the incident at Boston Harbor. They failed. Scared for his life, Mr. Hutchinson feared no one would believe that someone was trying to kill him. This was the true reason he went back to London in exile. While he was there, a Truth-seeker sent word to him about the Alchemists. When Mr. Hutchinson left England in 1774, he returned to America. Before he could give anyone the information he had acquired, he mysteriously died. William Collins claims he was murdered.
Father, they have countless connections. Not only in our own congress, but in the British Parliament, as well. Jonathon and I fear we are being followed. I’m hiding this journal in a safe place and have asked William to mail it out to you when Jonathon and I have left Boston and are certain we have not been followed. He has assured me he will do as I asked. He will also leave clues for other Truth-seekers should something happen to us. I have sent the coin Jonathon and I found to Ayana in a separate post. I have instructed her to keep it in my secret hiding place within Mother’s house.
We are not giving up. We cannot give up. But I am now with child, and we must think of our unborn baby. I hope that someday soon we will reunite and I will finally be able to get to know my true father.
My love to you always,
Quinn Hathorne Young
Sydney looked up from the journal. “Do you think she had her baby? Did they mak
e it back to her father? Why didn’t William send this journal to her father? The coin wasn’t found in my house. Was it there at one point? Did Ayana ever let John Hathorne see the coin? The letters from Quinn?”
I took the journal from Sydney’s hands and carefully set it on the table.
“Syd, I wish I had all the answers to your questions, but I don’t. I’m just as confused as you are.”
She stood and began to pace. “I have to find out. I need to know if she had her baby, Mike. If she and her family were safe. I know this probably sounds silly, but I have a strange connection to Quinn now because I felt like my grandpa wanted me to know. I need to finish this. I have to find the answers.”
“We’ll find out, baby. I swear to you.”
Sydney shook her head and dropped back onto the bed. “There is no way my grandfather knew any of this. How did he find this letter? Where did he get this?”
“I’m going to guess he stumbled upon the coin and letter somewhere in the house and thought it would be something fun for you to research.”
“Maybe. Probably.”
I glanced back down to the journal and turned a few pages. “Look at the inscription on the next page.”
What you thought you knew was only what they wanted you to know.
“This is getting so crazy. So what we’ve found so far is this group, the Alchemists, have manipulated our history to cover up for their wrongdoings. What if this group is still around, Mike? What if… what if they know we found these clues?”
I grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.
“Syd, Quinn lived in the late 1800s. There is no way this group is still around.”
She stared into my eyes. “Mike Murphy, you are a terrible liar.”
I winked. “That I am.” I let out a frustrated breath. “Let’s go get something to eat, clear our heads, and get out of this Alchemists world for a bit. Sound good?”
With a nod, Sydney stood and looked back down at the journal on the table before she picked it up and put it into her purse for safekeeping. I could see her mind racing. Hell, my mind was racing too.
The last thing I wanted to tell her was that I’d seen the Alchemists symbol on a building here in Boston as we drove to the hotel. A building that had been built within the last ten years.
Dangerous Temptations Page 19