He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look surprised. Just nodded, slow and heavy, like a man having his worst fears confirmed.
“There isn’t one.”
She went still.
“That’s what I’m telling you. It’s not nothing—it’s a presence. A darkness eating what should be there. Someone did this to your family, Hux. Deliberately. This Cornelius person, whoever he was.”
“Cornelius Marsh.” The name came out rough. “My great-great-grandfather’s business partner. He married into the family.”
Lunaria’s blood jumped. “You know him?”
“I know of him. The Marsh family was influential in Haven Shores for generations. There are records, documents, portraits in the historical society.” His hands were flat on the desk, fingers spread. Controlled. Barely. “If crimes occurred sixty years ago that involve my family, there will be documentation.”
“That’s why I’m here.” She met his gaze, held it. “I need access to your archives. Everything you have on the gardens, on Deia Tullio, on this Convergence she kept writing about. Council minutes. Family records. Whatever’s buried in your historical files.”
“That’s a significant request.”
“I know.”
“Those archives aren’t open to the public. Some of those documents haven’t been accessed in decades.”
“I know that too.”
Silence stretched between them. His gaze never wavered from hers. She could see the calculation happening—the mayor weighing protocols against necessity, duty against personal stakes.
“I’d like to know what's going to happen before it happens again.”
His eyes dropped to the desk. “I don’t know anything.” The words came out rough. “That’s the problem. I’ve felt unfinished my entire life, and I’ve never known why. My father gets strange whenever anyone mentions the gardens or the old families. He tried to talk me out of hiring you for this project.”
“Your father knows the truth.”
“Probably. He won’t say what.” Hux stood abruptly, crossing to a filing cabinet against the wall. “The archives are inthe basement. Old records, council minutes, family documents going back to the founding of Haven Shores.”
He pulled out a ring of keys and turned to face her.
“I’ll take you there myself.”
Lunaria blinked. “You don’t have to?—”
“Cornelius Marsh was connected to my family. If he committed crimes—if my ancestors were involved in whatever happened to Deia Tullio—” His voice tightened. “I want to know. I need to know.”
She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Then, let’s find out.”
The basement archiveswere exactly what she’d expected. Cramped. Dusty. Lit by flickering fluorescent lights that made everything look slightly sickly. Filing cabinets lined the walls, interspersed with banker’s boxes stacked high enough to create narrow corridors between them.
“Charming,” Lunaria said, eyeing a cobweb that stretched between two shelving units. “Very atmospheric.”
“Not many people come down here.” Hux moved ahead of her, navigating the maze of boxes with the confidence of someone who’d been here before. “Most of the recent records are digitized. These are the originals—and the older documents that were never entered into the system.”
“How old are we talking?”
“Some of these go back to the 1800s.”
She followed him deeper into the archives, acutely aware of how the space narrowed around them. The corridors between filing cabinets were barely wide enough for two people to walkabreast. When she brushed against a stack of boxes and had to sidestep, her shoulder pressed against his arm.
Neither of them pulled away.
“Here.” He stopped at a section marked with faded labels. Council Records, 1950--1970. “This should cover the period around Deia’s death. If there were council meetings about the gardens or the Convergence, they’d be documented here.”
