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But I smile. And I take another bite of my juicy burger.
And I feel…
I feel good. Even with this mystery surrounding us, even with the budding doubts I’m having about my family, even with the feeling that my mother has been avoiding my questions—I feel good in Brendan’s presence.
I feel good about taking this chance.
I’m about to say so when his phone buzzes.
“It’s my dad. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Go ahead.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BRENDAN
“Hi, Dad,” I say into the phone.
“Brendan, I’m glad I caught you. Are you working tonight?”
“No. I took the evening off, got someone to fill in. I wanted to enjoy my first night back in my place.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have company?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. Is this important?”
“It is, actually. We got another message.”
My pulse quickens slightly. “Through Hardy’s office again?”
“Yeah. I’m over there now.”
“Why do these things always happen in the middle of my dates?”
“Are you with Ava again?”
“I am.”
“Well, since she got the same message the first time, I suppose it’s okay if you bring her along.”
I glance at Ava, who’s still eating her burger. She’s wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts. We’ll have to stop at her place so she can put on some clean clothes.
“I would tell you it could wait,” I say to my father, “but I’ve got to say I’m curious, and Ava will be too.”
Ava’s eyebrows rise at her name.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.” I end the call.
“What was that all about?” Ava asks.
“My father and I got another message through Hardy’s office.”
Ava drops her jaw. “I left my phone in the bakery. I wonder if I got another message as well.”
“I figured we’d have to stop at the bakery anyway so you can put some clean clothes on.”
“Yeah, I can put my dirty jeans on and walk home in the T-shirt, I guess. How cold is it out?”
“I don’t know, but it’s only three buildings down. We’ll take the alley and we’ll be fine. You can wear one of my jackets.”
“Did your dad say what the message was?”
“He did not. But I’m assuming it’s something cryptic again.”
“I’ll check my phone when we get to my place. I hope it’s not dead.”
Ava’s phone was dead, so she plugged it in and will check later to see if she got any messages. We walk into the sheriff’s office.
“Hey,” I say.
“Brendan.” Dad looks up from a piece of paper he’s holding and hands it to me. “What do you make of this?”
I read the words on the page.
They make absolutely no sense at all.
I hand them to Ava.
She reads out loud.
“When echoes navigate down yonder, many anchors destroy ideas generated about neglect.” She looks up at me. “That’s clear as mud.” She glances at the paper again. “Wait a minute. The last one said Ask the Murphys. This one says Ask the Murphys and the Steels.”
I grab the page from her. “I didn’t even look that far.”
“It says it, clear as day.” She turns her gaze to the sheriff. “Hardy, why didn’t you call my dad or my uncles?”
“The Murphys were mentioned first,” Hardy says.
“And you’re here,” I say. “You’re a Steel.”
Ava nods. “True, but everyone knows the patriarch of the family is Uncle Joe. You should probably call him.”
“I will,” Hardy says, “but before I do, is there anything either of you can tell me that could make any sense out of this? Including why these emails are coming to my office? Especially since you got the same message last time to your phone, Ava.”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” she says, “unless… I’ll bet my entire family has some kind of filter on all their email accounts and phone numbers.”
“Wouldn’t you have that as well, then?” Hardy asks.
“No. I pay my own way, Sheriff. I bought my bakery with money I earned myself, and I pay the mortgage with my profits. I don’t use my family’s money, and that includes for my phone. I have my own account.”
Hardy smiles. “I had heard rumors to that effect. I’m proud of you, Ava.”
“Proud of me? Why?”
“Because you’re standing on your own two feet.”
“And you think my family doesn’t stand on their own two feet?”
Hardy’s cheeks redden a bit. “I didn’t mean anything bad by my statement, Ava.”
“I may choose not to use my family’s money,” Ava says, “but I assure you, Sheriff, that I love them. And I don’t want to hear you say anything bad about them.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Sheriff,” I interrupt, hoping to bring this conversation to a halt. “Do you have any idea what this message means?”
“Hell no. Neither does your father.”
“And neither do I. It doesn’t even make sense. Echoes don’t navigate. And down yonder? When was the last time anyone used the word yonder? And many anchors destroy ideas generated about neglect? How can an anchor destroy an idea?”
