“A good trait for a cop.”
An awkward silence fell for several beats as they both thought the unspeakable. If Annie had been watching people as closely as she should have been, she’d still be alive. Somehow, someone had gotten too big of a drop on her.
“Russians. You have Russian authors.” Shiloh looked up at him with appreciation. “I’m impressed. Aren’t you scholarly.”
“Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy and Solzhenitsyn wrote works with some of the most stunningly clear thoughts on depravity and the human condition.” He shrugged. “The pastor in me appreciates anyone who can articulate human hopelessness without Christ so clearly.”
“I vaguely remember them from the college literature class I had to take. But that makes sense.” She continued her perusal, nodding or making comments now and then. She had just opened her mouth to say something when she stopped cold, her entire expression taking on that look she got when she was working.
“What is it?”
“The Pilgrim’s Progress.” She motioned to the volume, one of the oldest books he owned, and he nodded, thinking it was odd she was so fascinated by that book. Wasn’t it predictable in a pastor’s library?
She blinked several times before speaking. “I don’t remember seeing a copy of this in Widow Hamilton’s library.”
“...Okay?”
“That doesn’t strike you as strange? Do you remember what she said about her Christian-literature collection? She had first editions of Jonathan Edwards’s sermons, Anne Bradstreet’s poetry, several of Ben Franklin’s works. And countless other books we’d consider Christian classics. But no copy of The Pilgrim’s Progress?” She shook her head. “I have a hard time believing whoever added books to that collection over the years wouldn’t have made sure they had a copy of this.”
“She could have kept it somewhere else. Another room where she read, a table beside her bed, maybe.” Adam shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”
Her enthusiasm waned. “Perhaps. May I see it?”
“Sure.”
She took the book off the shelf, ran her hands over the cover and then flipped through the pages gently, holding the book to her nose. “I love how old books smell. My point about Widow Hamilton is that someone was looking in her house for something—in the library, in particular. What if it was that book?”
“What if people broke into her house to find a book?” The question sounded more ridiculous to Adam when it was repeated.
Shiloh shot him a look of annoyance. Apparently, he was missing something. “Didn’t she say some of her favorite books were missing?”
“Shiloh, she was also about a hundred years old. She’d lose things.”
She frowned. “Maybe. But books are often used as codes. They contain maps and things like that sometimes. Play along with me here for a second. Books are a piece of history that no one really gives a second glance. If Blackbeard had left a map to his treasure drawn on crinkled brown paper with a big X marking the spot, don’t you think it would have been found by now?”
She had him there.
“But what if...” she continued, her voice rising, “he hid instructions in a book somehow? It makes just as much sense as anything else.”
He hated to dampen her enthusiasm, but there was still one problem. “Even if your theory is true...either someone stole the book from her house long ago to use it to find the treasure, or it was there...”
Her shoulders drooped. “And burned in the fire.” She shook her head. “It was a good try.”
She returned the book to the shelf.
“It’s funny that you would have reached for that one, though,” Adam went on, “since it was a gift.”
Her brows rose. “From who?”
And even before he said the words, understanding clicked, and Shiloh’s theory suddenly sounded like the most natural thing he’d ever heard. “From your cousin...the night she was killed.”
SIXTEEN
Shiloh was sure if her heart beat any harder, it would burst in her chest. She reclaimed the book from its spot on the shelf, clutching it to her chest as though if she held it too loosely, it would disappear.
“Annie gave this to you?” she asked just to make sure she wasn’t hearing things.
He nodded, his face several shades paler than it had been. “The idea that I’ve had it this whole time and it might be the piece we’ve been missing...”
She saw him swallow hard.
“I didn’t think anything of it, Shiloh. She came over that afternoon with the book, told me she’d found it somewhere and thought I might like to add it to my collection, that it might come in handy someday.” He shook his head. “After I realized I was being called to ministry, I thought back to what she’d said and wondered if she’d seen something even then that hinted to her I might become a pastor one day. But what if...?”
“What if she’d meant it would come in handy to help solve the case?” Shiloh finally found words to speak past the lump that had formed in her throat. Still clutching the book, she sank to the floor, unable to do more than stare at it. As certainly as she knew she was breathing, Shiloh knew she held in her hands an important element of this case.
If Annie had dropped this off on her way to wherever she was going the night she had been killed, if it had been that important that it not fall into the wrong hands, then this little book might be what men had killed for.
Might be what they had searched Widow Hamilton’s house for.
Could even be what they’d broken into Shiloh’s house to find, speculating that maybe she had come into possession of it. That would explain why only her desk and bookshelf had seemed out of order.
Somehow—though she didn’t comprehend how yet—this book was the map to the treasure.
Shiloh opened the front cover carefully. The book was in excellent shape, but it was old, and Shiloh wasn’t taking any chances. The inscription was the first thing to catch her eye.
“To L—May you find reward even in the Slough of Despond. All my love—E.”
She looked up to meet Adam’s eyes. “L? E? Who are these people?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never even read that before. To be honest, Annie gave me the book, and I put it on the shelf.”
Shiloh understood why he hadn’t immediately jumped to any conclusion about the book being related to Annie’s death, but he hadn’t even been curious to flip through it? Maybe it was the history lover in her, always looking for a story.
“It sounds like they were in love. Or had some kind of relationship.” Beyond that...
“I do know from reading the book back in college that the Slough of Despond is one of the challenges the main character faces. It’s a nasty swamp he has to travel through. It basically represents the trials and discouragement that a Christian faces. Beyond that, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Shiloh stared at the words again, waiting for additional layers of meaning to become clear.
It was hard to read between the lines when the entire note was only one line long. She let out a sigh and frowned. “So where do we start, then? I’d hoped the inscription would give us some kind of clue, but I’m not seeing it.”
“You seem to know more about books and codes than I do.”
“I only know of a few options. Page numbers could be used. Certain words could be underlined.... The possibilities are endless, but hopefully, we’d be able to see something unusual. Our best way is to flip through it page by page and look for any markings that aren’t original to the text itself.” It was a long shot, but she couldn’t think of any other way to go about this.
“Sounds good.”
Shiloh turned the yellowed pages until she came to the beginning. “Would you mind grabbing that notepad from the living room, in case I need to jot anything dow
n?”
“Not at all.”
He returned within a minute with the notepad and then left again, coming back with a French press full of coffee.
She smiled appreciatively. “You’re good to me.”
“I want to be. Besides, this could take a long time.”
Shiloh nodded, glancing at her watch and noting the afternoon was almost becoming evening. “I’ll be gone before too late. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.” She smiled hesitantly, not sure if he’d appreciate the teasing.
He clenched his jaw. “It bothers me a little that they’re watching me so closely, almost trying to find a place I’m messing up, but I’m attempting to be patient with them. They had a bad experience with my predecessor—I think it’s made them overly cautious. Thanks for being understanding. We’ll have you out by midnight anyway. I think that’s a respectable curfew for two grown adults.”
Shiloh went back to her work, which was turning out to be as painstaking as she’d feared. She was ten pages in. Nothing so far.
There was nothing at twenty pages, either. Or fifty. Or one hundred.
She set the book down after several hours, rubbing her eyes to stop the blurring. “It’s completely blank.”
“Except for all those words.”
She glared.
He was quick to apologize. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not the time for jokes.”
Shiloh stared at the book where it lay next to her, closed on the floor. Had Annie truly just thought Adam should have it in his collection? Shiloh had been so sure it had significance in the case.
Certainty outweighed the doubts. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew this book was important. She turned back to the inscription, hoping to see something there, but again nothing jumped out at her as significant.
“You don’t think E could be Edward Teach, do you? That Blackbeard himself could have written a note in this book to someone?”
Adam’s look was understandably skeptical. It was a stretch. But lately that described the entire case, and Shiloh figured it was better to speculate too much than not enough and risk missing something.
“That would still mean there’s some kind of extra significance in what he wrote. And it seems pretty straightforward.”
Shiloh nodded. She wasn’t going to let this go so easily, but they’d probably done all they could for the night. Another glance at her watch told her it was just after ten. It was earlier than she’d planned to be heading home, but for now she needed sleep.
“Let me follow you home. Especially since it’s not curfew yet.” Adam’s eyes twinkled, taking away some of the seriousness in them. “Besides—” they dimmed again “—whoever is doing all of this is still out there. I’d feel better knowing you were home safely, in a house with only you in it.” He motioned toward Tux. “Do you want to take him with you for a while, until this is solved? He’s good protection.”
“So is the patrol car in front of my house. And if all else fails, so is my .40 cal.” Shiloh patted her purse, which she’d retrieved from the living room. “And it’s a little more low maintenance than your dog.” She rubbed behind Tux’s ears. “Not that I don’t like dogs. I love them. I’m just not home enough to take care of one.”
She looked at the dog’s warm brown eyes, noting how he soaked up every ounce of affection he was given, repaying it in full with open adoration, and thought she might want a dog someday after all. Her eyes flickered to Adam and then back to Tux. If things went well with their relationship this time around, maybe she’d end up with one after all.
“What are you smiling about?” Adam asked as they stepped outside, and he closed the door behind them.
“Nothing.” She grinned even wider. “A lady has to have some secrets.”
After Adam was satisfied that her car had remained safely locked, Shiloh climbed in and drove home, more grateful than she’d admit to see Adam’s headlights behind her. He followed her home, parked his car and came in to sweep the house with her. All the rooms were empty, and Shiloh felt slightly paranoid but safe. And taken care of.
She told Adam good-night, locked the door and headed to her room. She’d just turned out the light and pulled the covers over her head when the first rumble of thunder sounded, and she felt herself tense. Not another storm. Not when she needed this sleep so much and desperately wanted to forget all the things storms made her think of.
Her cell phone rang from its place on the table beside her, its shrill ring distracting her from the growing rumbles outside her window.
Caller ID said it was the chief. She couldn’t think of what he’d want this late at night, but none of the possibilities could be good. She squeezed her eyes shut as she answered, anticipating the worst, even if she wasn’t sure what “the worst” would be.
“Hello?”
“Shiloh. It’s good news. It’s about Mary Hamilton.”
She felt her stomach churn, unsure of what could possibly be good news on that front. “Okay, go ahead.”
“She wasn’t at her house when it caught fire. We tracked her down at her sister’s residence in Macon. She’s alive, Shiloh.”
Shiloh let out a breath she’d been holding for days and whispered a prayer of thanks, her joy at knowing Mary hadn’t died overtaking all other thoughts.
She told the chief how relieved she was, then hung up. As she set the phone down, she realized that if the book in her purse did hold answers to this case and had once been part of the Hamiltons’ library collection, which was possible, then Mary Hamilton might be able to help Shiloh fit the pieces of this puzzle together.
And if Mary was alive, she’d be willing to do just that.
Shiloh rolled back over toward the table, grabbed her phone and set its alarm for 5:00 a.m. She was driving to Macon in the morning. She wanted answers, and she wanted them as soon as possible. Hopefully, Adam would go, too, but she was going either way—with or without him.
* * *
It was midmorning when Adam and Shiloh pulled into a parking space at Middle Georgia Nursing Home, a low brick building that looked as though it had seen better days.
“Widow Hamilton lives in an estate by the ocean, and her sister lives...here?”
Shiloh shrugged.
“It’s kind of a dump.”
“Have you ever seen a nice nursing home?” she countered.
Shiloh had point. Although he’d seen nicer than this. He had to admit, though, when they walked inside, that the place was clean and well kept. It was just...old.
Funny how time made some things—like the interior of Widow Hamilton’s old house—more beautiful and made some things crumble. There was a sermon illustration in that somewhere that he could use someday.
“Hi, we’re here to see Mary Hamilton. She’s visiting her sister...” Shiloh’s voice trailed off, and Adam realized Shiloh didn’t know the woman’s name.
He looked nervously at the woman manning the front desk, wondering if she’d let them in with so little information.
“Oh, sure, Mary.” The woman grinned. “She’s visiting with Alice right now. That’s Room 12, down this hall. Just make sure you sign in on the clipboard.”
Shiloh signed them in and they walked along the hall to a room where Adam could hear the distinct laughter of women over eighty.
Shiloh knocked softly, and one of them called, “Come in!”
“Good morning, ladies.” Shiloh greeted each of them with a smile.
The one Adam didn’t recognize—Alice—frowned.
“Do I know you?”
Shiloh shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’m a friend of Mary’s.”
“Why, Officer Evans. I hardly recognized you without your uniform on. Isn’t she beautiful, Reverend Cole?” Mary grinned.
“She certainly is.”<
br />
He was pretty sure Shiloh blushed. He liked that.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Shiloh said as she accepted the hug the older woman offered. Then Shiloh frowned. “Wait—your car was in the garage at your house. How did you get here?” Her eyes darted to Mary’s sister, and Adam was sure Shiloh was thinking the same thing he was—surely Mary’s sister hadn’t picked her up.
Mary waved off the question with her hands as Adam and Shiloh sat down. “I took a cab, dear. It’s too far to drive at my age.”
Adam’s eyes widened at the money that must’ve cost. Then again, a Hamilton, from what he’d seen of the house and estate, would have plenty to spare.
“We wanted to talk to you about pirate treasure. From the 1700s.” The words came out of Shiloh’s mouth in a rush. She never was one for small talk.
The widow raised her perfectly arched brows in surprise. “Treasure?”
“And the prowlers at your house. Had I told you before that I think they’re connected?”
Mary appeared to consider this for a minute and then nodded. “I suppose that would make sense. I have heard my family connected to rumors of that treasure before.” Sadness passed over her face. “But, dear, you know the house is gone.” She softened her tone as though for Shiloh’s benefit.
Shiloh nodded, emotions chasing themselves across her face too quickly for Adam to identify them. “I was there.”
“How terrible, dear. Are you okay?”
Shiloh nodded.
He noted the woman’s concern was for Shiloh and not for her house. Her family’s home.
Mary turned her gaze to Adam. “You seem confused, young man. I’m sad about my home and all those beautiful details you won’t find in another house in the South. But aren’t our lives more important than our shelters?”
Her words so echoed Jesus’s words in the Sermon on the Mount that conviction pierced Adam. Would he be able to keep his perspective so well in her situation? He wasn’t sure, but he suspected Widow Hamilton was a remarkable woman.
Mary turned back to Shiloh. “So I’m sorry, dear, but even if the legends are true—that the Hamiltons and at least one notorious pirate were somehow connected—the house isn’t there to investigate anymore. The nice man from the police department who called told me the garage and the barn are still standing, but neither of those buildings is old enough to have housed the treasure. If it was there, it’s gone now.”
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