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Ryan kisses my hand. “I can’t imagine how much Chip must’ve missed her.”
“Was there an investigation?” I ask carefully, wondering if that’s a lead we can follow.
Ryan straightens a little as if questioning why that hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m not sure. Magnus probably knows.”
“Maybe we could find out something useful.” After a beat, I add, “This must’ve been their special spot since he was buried here.” Getting to my feet, I say, “Since we’re out here, let’s go pay our respects.”
The mausoleum isn’t readily visible from the point unless you know what you’re looking for. The long mass of land gradually drops toward sea level and Chip cleverly had the stone mausoleum constructed to look like the front of a ship jutting toward the water.
As the sun continues to lower, it glints against the stained-glass window on the entryway to the structure. A ship’s wheel sits beneath that with pieces of glass, sea shells, and ceramic shards, likely from old ships, forming a mosaic in the wood.
“Do you suppose he salvaged that from a sunken boat too?” I ask, pointing to the glass, glowing in the light.
“Probably. He was always finding old things and giving them a good home.”
“Funny that the letter said the line about a red sky at night.” I gesture to the last rays of sunshine, dissolving into the sea.
Ryan slings his arm around me. “It’s beautiful.”
His gaze drops to mine, but then we both slide our eyes toward his grandfather’s gravesite.
“Sorry, Chip,” Ryan murmurs as if maybe a private moment here isn’t quite appropriate.
“I’ll take a rain check on that kiss, but what did the letter say about the stone and a red sky at night?”
Ryan shakes his head slowly as if trying to remember. “Magnus took a photo.” He texts his brother. A moment later his device beeps. “It said, ‘The others are hidden in the mermaid’s cement chest, the mahogany carving that belonged to my heart, and in plain sight, if you know where to look during a sky painted red at night.’”
We both look at the stained glass again, but it’s nearly dark. Ryan shines his phone’s light and we search for anything unusual that might provide a clue.
“Not going to lie, this is kind of creepy,” I whisper.
“The stained glass is of a ship with red sails. Like the Crimson Tide?” He runs his hand over it. “I feel like we’re getting closer, like that old game hot or cold.”
“Wait, I don’t think the ship’s wheel is the door to open the mausoleum. Look, there’s a handle here.” I point.
Ryan gasps. “The safe in Chip’s office where Royal kept the journal has a wheel like this, well, not with the mosaic, but the wheel itself.”
“I have no idea what that means, but cool, I think?”
He grips the ship’s wheel and turns it to the left and then the right and back to the left like a dial on a padlock before pulling it toward us. It hinges open, revealing a small recessed cavity, the exact right size for the box that fits in the palm of Ryan’s hand.
We both inhale sharply.
I hold my breath. “Do you think?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Ryan pauses and looks up. “Chip, if this is the last stone, thank you. If I’m violating your grave in any way, I’m sorry, but it’s your fault.” He lifts the lid on the box and inside, resting on a white silk cushion is a shiny, rare red piece of coral.
“It’s amazing,” I say softly, almost reverently.
We examine it a moment longer.
“Is it really the stone?” I ask.
He nods. Closing the box and tucking it in his pocket, Ryan casts a cautious gaze around and then out to sea as if making sure no one is watching before smiling widely.
We both whoop into the night and hug. Ryan spins me around. “We found it. I can’t believe it.”
Ryan lets out a long breath. “Wow. This is incredible.”
