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“Gorgeous,” Evan says, studying me with a lopsided smile. “Now, let’s go.”
“Wait.” I take out my phone, switch to selfie mode, and look at myself.
Wow. I’m not usually into jewelry, but the flood of warm feelings toward the earrings makes me worried I might turn evil, develop multiple personality disorder, and then spend all my days calling the earrings “my preciouses” in a voice not unlike that of Gollum’s.
“Ready?” Evan asks.
I nod, and he leads the way back to the car, a trip that passes with a lot more ease than our trek here—for which I credit “my preciouses,” of course.
As we drive back, I admire myself in the mirror on the sun visor. Then, as we pull into Evan’s driveway, I look at his watch, really noticing it for the first time.
I frown. “Your watch looks familiar.”
Evan parks the car and looks at his wrist. “It was my grandfather’s. He never let anyone touch it.”
Hold on. “Never?”
“No. He was pretty frugal, especially considering his wealth, but?—”
“You’re lying.” The car suddenly feels suffocating, so I get out.
Evan leaps out of the car as well. “Why did you say that?”
Given how guilty he looks as he asks, I’m pretty sure that I’m right, even if I’m confused as to his motives.
“I saw that exact watch on your wrist in the photo album,” I say. “You wore a suit, and your grandfather was in that same picture. If he was so against anyone touching his watch, why was he so happy on that occasion?”
I’ve never seen someone literally smack themselves on the forehead, but that is what Evan does. “I completely forgot about that picture.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Explain.”
Evan sighs. “Any chance we can discuss this over dinner?”
“No. Tell me now.” I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
Evan expels a breath. “You’ve probably already guessed it. The treasure hunt was a farce.”
I gape at him. “What?”
I knew he was lying, and that hurt, but I hadn’t yet made that big of a leap.
Evan takes a step back. “Shit. If you didn’t guess it, I guess I’ve just spilled it.”
“The treasure hunt wasn’t real?” I demand.
Now that I think about it, that explains a lot of little peculiarities. Like how comfortable Evan was back at the cabin in the woods. He probably owns that place. Or how the first clue was the college he went to. Or how he wasn’t ever disappointed or surprised when we didn’t find any clues at the “wrong” locations. He didn’t not care because he was that rich; it was?—
“Remember when I offered to show you around?” Evan asks defensively. “You refused and then mentioned that you liked treasure maps, so I made up a story about my grandfather leaving one for me.”
I just stare open-mouthed, so he continues. “I created the map and the code using Florida history and aged it with coffee stains.”
So that’s why the documents smelled of something that reminded me of NYC—it was the coffee.
“I then asked Boone to place the watch and the earrings in a box at the old cabin. The nesting chests were his touch—let’s hope he didn’t pick them up at the junkyard.”
I grit my teeth. “The cabin in the woods was yours, wasn’t it?”
He nods. “It and a few acres of the surrounding forest. We weren’t trespassing. Sorry that I led you to believe that we were.”
