Wait Until Dark: Carolina Moon Series, Book 3

by Christy Barritt

  His throat went dry at the sight. He imagined burying himself in that hair, tasting her lips, and feeling her soft skin. He shrugged his coat off also since the room was now heating up.

  He shoved the thoughts aside, knowing they had more pressing issues at hand. The rush of attraction had thrown him off guard.

  He tugged at his collar—suddenly hot. And it wasn’t because of the gently roaring flames across from him. “How do you propose we do that?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure yet. But that lady at the front desk of Project Teach mentioned that Magnum had a cannon in the office. How does that tie in?”

  “I wish I knew. That puts us in a very precarious position.”

  Her gaze connected with his. “As long as we stay one step ahead of him, we’re okay.”

  Chapter Twenty

  He leveled his gaze. “Why is this so important to you?”

  Her eyes widened, as if the question surprised her. “Wouldn’t it be important to anyone? This could be a significant find.”

  “It’s more than that to you. What’s going on, Felicity? You can at least tell me that. I’ve risked everything to help get you this far.”

  She frowned and looked away. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She didn’t bother to argue. Instead, she leaned back and let out a resigned sigh. “You really want to know? Because it’s not pretty. Or flattering. It’s really not flattering.”

  “I really want to know.” He leaned back and waited, resisting the urge to touch those silky-looking locks.

  She sucked on her bottom lip a moment, and he could see the storm raging inside her. He waited, giving her the time and space she needed.

  “I was working on my PhD in North Carolina history, but as I did that I also worked as an antiquarian,” she started, rubbing the coffee mug in her hands but not taking a sip.

  “A what?”

  “An antiquarian. Basically, I’m an expert in antiquities, specializing in rare books. I’m able to appraise certain items, tell you the time period something was created and how much it could sell for at auction.”

  “Okay.” He shifted, turning to face her as she told the rest of her story. He was more fascinated than ever.

  “Long story short is this: I got a job working on a high-profile piece. It had even been featured on the national news as a significant historical find.”

  “That’s good . . . right.”

  “It turned out to be forged.”

  He let that sink in. “I see. You took the fall for it?”

  She nodded slowly, still rubbing the mug. “I’m the one who made the call. The forgery . . . it was impressive. From a trusted source.” She sighed and abandoned her coffee in favor of running a hand through her hair.

  He turned toward her, curiosity lighting his gaze. “Tell me about what you do.”

  “I worked part-time at the college as I worked on my PhD, and part-time for a firm that does appraisals on rare books.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It is. It was. I’m not doing it any more.” The reminder about how everything had crashed down around her hit her like a punch in the gut. She’d gone from living her dreams one moment to being totally discredited the next.

  “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking. I mean, we do have all night to talk as we wait here.”

  She sucked in a quick breath. Could she even open up? She hadn’t spoken about it since she’d come back here. Her aunt only knew bits and pieces. “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m a terrible fool.”

  “I could never think that.”

  He said that now . . . “You haven’t heard my story yet. Not all of it, at least.”

  “Try me.”

  She heaved in a deep breath and sat back. As she did, Brody’s hand brushed her back. Even through her thick sweater, the realization caused electricity to jolt down her spine—a totally irrational reaction. “I actually worked for Ricky. He was not only my boss—he was my boyfriend. My controlling boyfriend.”

  “You mentioned him before.”

  “He wasn’t always a nice man. He was either charming or he was cruel. I was the one who usually saw his cruel side.” She glanced at her hands, noticed how she was twisting them in her lap. She stopped herself, knowing that she was showing her nerves too much. “Anyway, I was doing pretty well. People were starting to request me. I was close to finishing my PhD. A TV show asked me to do an on-air interview about some documents that had been found that they believed were connected with the Titanic.”

  He twisted his head, as if impressed. “Interesting.”

  She nodded. “They really were. But I’m pretty sure Ricky didn’t like the attention I was getting. We got a big-name client, and he assigned me to help with the evaluation and appraisal of the work.”

  “Okay.”

  “I went to work on it. There’s a lot that goes into appraising a book and how old it is. One can never really tell how far it dates back, but we use varying clues about the writing style, the kind of paper used, the way people are addressed. If possible, we do send off a small sample of the paper for testing and sometimes that will reveal more facts to us.”

  “What happened next?”

  She stared out the window a moment and took another sip of her coffee. “Well, there were some old letters that someone had apparently found in their basement. They appeared to have belonged to Thomas Jefferson.”

  “The former president? Founding father of the US?”

  “That’s right. They looked authentic. Like, really authentic. They would have made a significant historical impact.”

  “Why? What did they say?”

  “They were like his lost records. They had his ideology, and thoughts, and some personal facts. The letters were so fascinating. I spent months examining them.”

  “What were your conclusions?”

  “They seemed authentic, but there were a couple of red flags. One of the letters—the handwriting—didn’t quite match with other documents. And there was something about the paper that bugged me.”

  “I’m sure you researched it, right?”

  She swallowed hard, knowing it was too late to stop the conversation now, no matter how tempting it might be. “I went to Ricky for his advice and expertise, and he was adamant that it was the real thing. His confirmation seemed to drive away my fears and hesitation. I mean, Ricky knows what he’s doing.”

  Wrinkles formed at the corner of Brody’s eyes. “What happened next?”

  “I finally wrote up my thoughts and evaluation. I said it was worth a large amount of money, but that wasn’t all. This was practically a national treasure. I went on TV to talk about my findings. Professionally, I thought I was on top of the world, and I felt so fortunate to have been handed the opportunity.”

  “I have a feeling there’s a but in here somewhere.”

  She nodded. “Ricky had it all forged.”

  Brody flinched. “Really? Why would he risk ruining his company’s reputation like that?”

  “I guess it was worth it if he could bring me down. He made a big deal of firing me, and said he couldn’t have me associated with his company any more.”

  “Did you break up then?”

  She shook her head. “Not initially. I mean, at that point, I thought it truly was all my fault.”

  “How did you discover Ricky was behind it?”

  “I went to talk to him at work one day. He wasn’t there. I knew his parents had left him a small cabin by the lake nearby. I went there. He wasn’t there either, but I found all the supplies that were needed to make the forgery. I had no doubts.”

  “Did you confront him?”

  “Of course. He denied it. But I could see the truth in his eyes. He was behind all of it. His goal was simply to make me weak.”

  “That’s pretty low—and extreme.”

  “That’s Ricky for you. He never expected to be caught. I made a motion with the
American Association of Historians to have his licensure revoked. That really made him mad. Until that happens, I can’t really go forward with my story. I don’t know if I will.”

  “But no one will hire you otherwise.”

  “Maybe it’s time for a career change.”

  “I thought you enjoyed it?”

  “I do. I’ve always loved books. And finding rare ones feels like finding a treasure. It’s better than finding a chest full of gold even. But sometimes you just have to realize that your ship has sailed.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes. Certainly there’s always redemption.”

  “Maybe.”

  “That’s why you came to Hertford?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I had to get away.”

  “How did he take you leaving? You said he was controlling.”

  Her frown deepened. “Not well. He insisted I couldn’t make it without him. Said I’d be crawling back. Said I’d ruined my life by faulty research.”

  Typical of someone who was controlling and manipulative. An abuser. Emotional abuse was still abuse.

  “And?”

  She raised her chin, starting at the window in front of her. “And I’m determined that my life isn’t ruined. I’m embarrassed and slightly ashamed of myself for the traps I fell into. But I haven’t given up.”

  “You see this Blackbeard thing as a way to redeem yourself.”

  Her head dropped again. “I suppose so.”

  “There’s someone else who can offer redemption, you know.”

  She raised her eyes to meet his. “God?”

  He nodded.

  “Thanks for the sermonette, but you can stop now.”

  “You’re not a believer?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose not. My parents were. I grew up in church.”

  “I’ve heard it’s hard to keep the faith while being immersed in academia.”

  “I suppose that’s true. I don’t really know when I lost it. I suppose it was gradual.”

  “I guess mine is the opposite. Grew up in a family without any church or Bible. It wasn’t until I hit rock bottom that I realized something was missing in my life.”

  She leaned back, her attention on him now. “What happened to you to make you hit rock bottom?”

  Did he really want to share about this part of his life? Usually, he’d say no. But she’d just revealed a hard part of her past. Besides, something about Felicity beckoned him to trust her. “My girlfriend was abducted when she was walking home from high school.”

  Her eyes widened. “That sounds horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded as the memories hit him. “I was away at college. I came back to help search for her, but it was too late. Andrea was long gone.”

  Andrea Whitaker? Felicity remembered the huge case about the missing teenager. It had made national news. After years with no answers, her body had finally been recovered several months ago.

  “I can only imagine what it was like living with the what ifs for so long,” she said softly.

  “I was supposed to come home that week too, but I had a paper I needed to write and a test to study for. I told her I’d try to make it home the next weekend instead. She understood. But I always wondered how things might have turned out differently if I’d been home.”

  “You couldn’t have known.” She squeezed his arm.

  Her touch caused warmth to spread through his blood like a welcome fire after a cold day. “I know that now. But it’s hard wondering.”

  Their gazes locked, and he wondered for a moment if there was something between them. What it would be like to kiss her. How it would feel to take her into his arms.

  Before he could entertain the thought too long, Felicity’s phone buzzed on the table. She released his arm, and he immediately missed her touch, wanted it back.

  When she looked at the message on her phone, her face went pale.

  “Brody, they’ve got my aunt.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Panic exploded inside Felicity.

  Magnum must have gotten her cell number from her Aunt Bonny. He’d sent a haunting picture of her dear aunt with a gag over her mouth and blank wall behind her. The message below the photo was clear: give him the map or she would die.

  He knew about the map. How? Had he simply been watching them? Or had he roughed up Winsome?

  She desperately hoped it wasn’t the later.

  “What am I going to do?” she whispered.

  Brody squeezed her shoulder. His touch brought her panic down a notch. “We’ll figure something out. I just need to think for a moment.”

  “What if they hurt her?” She pressed her eyes shut, unable to bear the thought. Her poor aunt . . . She didn’t deserve any of this.

  “Don’t think like that. Believe me, I know what it’s like.”

  She pinched the skin between her eyes, a sudden headache coming on. “I can’t believe they grabbed my aunt. They have no mercy. She’s old and frail and . . .”

  Before she could say anything else, Brody pulled her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She surprised herself by not resisting. Instead, she folded into him, finding comfort in his strong, capable arms. “Everyone always says that . . . but what happens when it’s not okay?”

  He said nothing, only held her for another moment. Silence stretched between them until finally Brody spoke. “We don’t have a choice, Felicity. We’ve got to do what he wants. Your aunt is more important than any of this.”

  She nodded, trying to pull herself together. In order to do that, she had to get away from Brody. His touch cast a tantalizing spell on her, one that was dangerous and threw her off balance. “You’re right. Whatever it takes. Who cares about this stupid treasure or my professional reputation? Not when the lives of people you love are on the line.”

  “Text him back.”

  She sucked in a long, deep breath, knowing she had to draw on every ounce of her strength to get through this. “What do I say?”

  “Tell him you’ll meet him. You’ll give him the map for your aunt. See what he says.”

  “Okay.” She picked up her phone, but her hands shook so badly she wondered if she’d be able to text anything. Somehow she managed to type the words, after several mistakes and lots of backspacing.

  “Now we wait.” Brody placed his big, strong hand over hers.

  Heat gushed through her again.

  This was no time to be infatuated. But Brody just seemed to have that effect on her. Besides, he was only being polite by offering comfort and friendship. When this was over, they’d go their separate ways.

  The minutes ticked by, and she stared at the phone, waiting for a response. But time dragged on and there was nothing.

  “Listen, would you mind calling Walter? I need to know he’s okay,” Felicity said.

  “Absolutely.” Brody pulled out his phone and paced to the other side of the room.

  Felicity could barely make out what was being said. Her anxiety ratcheted up with each passing moment as worst-case scenarios plagued her.

  Finally, Brody joined her on the couch again. “He’s okay. He said some men showed up right after we left, claiming you were a fraud and a thief. Really they were just looking for information, I think. They didn’t perceive Walter as being a threat.”

  “So he’s unharmed?”

  Brody nodded. “He’s unharmed.”

  “Thank goodness.” Her hand went over her heart. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of this.

  “That map is significant, Felicity, just as you thought,” Brody finally said.

  “I’m not sure how useful it is without the other half.” She’d been over it a dozen times already.

  “Where could the other half be, even? And does Magnum already have it?”

  “Good questions. I wish I knew.” She stared at the map, wishing something would pop out at her. “I just can’t interpret what significance this has. There’s nothing on here to indicate wher
e Blackbeard buried his treasure.”

  He leaned over her and pointed to one area near what was now Oriental. “Teach’s Oak?”

  “It fell over years ago, and the ground all around it has been dug up over the years.”

  “Ocracoke?”

  “Again, treasure hunters have scoured the place for the past two hundred years.”

  Just then, her phone buzzed. “It’s him!”

  Brody scooted in closer to read the message with her.

  Meet me at 9 at the Green Forest Marina in Belhaven. Bring the police, your aunt dies.

  Brody turned over in bed and pulled a dusty blanket closer around his shoulders. It was cold in here, but it only seemed right to offer Felicity the couch next to the fireplace. She’d looked pale as she lay down with an old pillow and ratty quilt. At least they had a safe place to stay.

  The thought of her being so close did something strange to him. It stirred something inside him, a longing he’d thought was lost. He had the strange desire to be near her. To comfort her. To hold her.

  He turned over, his back toward the door. He couldn’t think like that. There was too much on the line here.

  Instead, he focused on what seemed like less dangerous territory.

  The map.

  Just what was so special about that map? Magnum must believe there was a big payout waiting for him if he was going through all this trouble to find it. He’d killed a man, after all. That meant he probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill or at least hurt either Felicity or her aunt. He’d been willing to run them off the road today in order to obtain the map for himself.

  Brody hoped that, once the map was handed over, they could put this behind them. He’d be able to resume his vacation time and work around his house. He’d have dinner with his friends, go to church, go to Bible study. Felicity would become a distant memory . . . or would she?

  Had she already taken up residence in his heart? Even if it was just a small place of residence, it still was beginning to feel semi-permanent. Which was ridiculous. He hardly knew her. She drove him crazy. She was stubborn and too smart for her own good. He’d be smart to evict her—now. Somehow that just didn’t seem possible.