“Okay,” I called as I reached the landing. “I know I’m alone, but on the off chance I’m not, I’ve got a huge gun and I don’t know how to use it, so don’t fuck with me.”
The house was silent.
“That’s what I thought,” I answered back.
I walked into the study, shining the light around. The rope barriers had been left on the floor, untouched by the investigating police. And like I’d predicted, it was the ones to the far right of the room, where maps were framed and hanging on the wall—leaving Smith’s desk and small artifacts untouched. I carefully stepped over the ropes.
Color me fucking surprised as I stared at a big empty spot where Smith’s original map was supposed to be. I was angry that I’d been robbed, but this was good for two reasons: one, it leaned heavily in favor of Jack’s Spanish treasure being very real, and two, I kept digital photographs of every antique in the house for cataloging and insurance purposes. So I still had access to the treasure map’s details.
I just wish I knew what it was aboutthismap in particular. I’d guessed correctly that it would be missing, but for the life of me, when I closed my eyes and recreated the image in my mind, there was nothing…treasure mappyabout it. It was simply a topographical map of Key West that Smith had made harmless notations on. I shined my light on the other charts still hanging on the wall, but they weren’t original to the house, and nothing jumped out at me asthar be silver here!
So what was I missing?
What did Cassidy and his killer know that I didn’t?
There was something obvious I was overlooking. It had to be right in front of my face and I’d just written it off as nothing.
I walked out of the study and went back to the storage closet where this entire fiasco began. I unlocked the door and went inside, shining my light onto the false wall and staring hard at the wallpaper. It covered the entire interior of the closet, but was also inside the nook behind the false wall.
It was a cream color, wonderfully preserved, with shimmery stars and crescent moons in random patterns. This was the anomaly in the house. The anomaly in the entire tale unfolding before me, really. Everything followed a timeline, from the 1850s straight on until Captain Smith, aka One-Eyed Jack, bit the big one and his body mysteriously vanished in 1871. And yet, this style of wallpaper was from the mid-1880s, and it appeared nowhere else in the house. In fact, I believe it was a style seen more in New England and—
“I’ll be damned,” I murmured. Now I knew why it always struck me as such an odd style. It was actually a ceiling paper.
I put my elbows on the wall and leaned into the nook. The ceiling paper was better preserved here than the rest of the closet. The stars were vivid and sharp, varying in tones of gold, copper, and silver, while the centers had mismatching dots of color. I shifted my phone and Jun’s gun to the same hand and reached out to brush my fingertips against the paper. I’d seen stars like this before—inthishouse.
“Son of a—”
“Aubrey!”
I flailed, fumbled, dropped my phone, and held the gun up in a panic. “Stay back!” I shouted.
“Jesus Christ, it’s me!”
Oh crap.
“Jun?”
“Who did you think?” He replied, dark silhouette holding his hands up in defense. “Put that down right now.”
I lowered the pistol, Jun immediately came forward, and snatched it from my hands. “I’m sorry,” I started.
The light shining from the phone on the floor cast distorted, angry shadows on Jun’s face.
He checked the safety and clip before tucking it into the back of his jeans. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, moving closer and towering over me. “I don’t know where to direct my anger first.”
“I was only—”
“Breaking and entering.”
“I work here!”
“It’s a crime scene, Aubrey!”
“Yeah, but—”
“You stole my handgun,” he continued. “You took a federal agent’s weapon, and you’re waving it around out in the open like an idiot. Do youwantto go to prison?”
“I didn’t steal it!” I argued. “I borrowed it! I wasn’t going to shoot it. I just wanted to feel safe.”
