Chapter 49
Emery
June
“’Kay,” Logan hollers, standing in front of the old brown truck, its hood popped.
Isla turns the key and, after a few trying chugs, the engine comes to life.
With a triumphant smile, Logan grabs a rag and wipes his grease- and dirt-covered hands, ordering her to “Give it some gas.”
Isla revs the engine like she’s at the starting line of a drag race.
He gestures for her to cut the engine.
The garage is peaceful once again as Logan saunters over to where I dig through the last boxes of old things, helping him decide what to trash and what to donate.
Outside, spring has abandoned us early with summer temperatures already giving us a week-long stretch of humidex days reaching well into the thirties. But in here, it’s comfortably cool.
“How much longer before that’s road-ready, do you think?” I ask Logan as I hold up an X-Men comic book for Thomas to consider.
With an eager nod, he tucks it under his arm. The boy, now thirteen, seems as keen to spend time with his uncle as he used to be spending time with his father.
“Another few weeks, maybe?”
“Just in time for when I get my license!” Isla declares.
Logan chuckles. “I’ve got a few more things I want to replace on it. Might as well put my big winnings to use.”
Thomas, Isla, and I groan simultaneously and with dramatic flair.
“It’s so not fair that you get out of prison and win the red dog pool the first year,” Isla mutters.
“Are you kidding me? A three-year-old won last year’s pot!” Logan exclaims.
“Actually, Egan was still only two then,” I correct him, setting aside several more Marvel comics for Thomas.
“Hey, Uncle Logan, can I have this?” Thomas pulls out one of Logan’s baseball gloves and slips it on.
“Yeah, go ahead, buddy. There should be a bigger one somewhere in there too, and a few balls. We can throw them around later. Get Carson and Brooks playing too.”
“Here, can you load these boxes into your grandpa’s truck?” I nudge them with my foot. “He said he’d take them to Goodwill for us.”
“Yeah, sure.” Thomas easily scoops one up and strolls out, drawing my smile. With Sarah drowning in diapers and bottles, her eldest has stepped up, keeping the older twins in line and entertaining Macy. School will be out soon for the summer, and it’s going to be mayhem around here.
“Okay, what do you want to do with these?” I pat the five rolled-up posters.
“Toss ’em. They’re all dusty.” Logan swipes a finger across one and holds it up to prove his point. “These weren’t even mine. Jay put them up on my wall when he run out of space in his room.”
“Are you kidding?” I peel the elastic off one and unfurl it. “You mean you don’t want Nickelback in your apartment?”
“Uh … no. Hey, Isla?” Logan peers over his shoulder at her. “You want this?”
Her face pinches. “Who is that?”
“What do you mean?” Logan shakes his head with exasperation. “What do you kids even listen to?”
“Not that.”
I laugh, reaching for another poster to unfurl. “How about one of … Creed!”
“Whoa … Wait.” Logan grabs my wrist.
“What?”
He doesn’t answer, holding me still.
“Logan.”
“What is that?” Isla asks.
“Here.” Logan collects the poster from me and turns it around, showing me the white backside of it, and a pencil sketch that takes up at least half.
I frown. “Is that a map?” A river slices through the middle, and numbers link points of interest—a fence line, a three-headed oak, crops of boulders, a cliff. Compass points sit next to each number.
Logan’s face splits with a wide smile. “It’s a fucking map.”
“What day is it again? Oh, right. It’s a Sunday.” Terry stretches out in the camping chair as if tanning in the afternoon sun. “How did you convince me to come here for this again, McAllister?”
I brush the sweat off my forehead with my forearm as Logan digs into the hard soil. “I played into your giant ego and offered you beer.” But mostly, I wanted Terry here because I’ve come to trust the detective constable more than any other police officer I know.
“Not just any beer,” Jameson chirps, proudly gesturing at his Barrow Brewing logo.
“Right. And where is said beverage?” He looks at his empty hands.
“You’ll get it when we’re done.”
“You’re welcome to take over, if you’re bored.” Jack digs with a second shovel. He’s been in a foul mood since Terry showed up. I can’t blame him. Those twenty-four hours that he was being investigated were probably the scariest of his life, and Terry was the one holding the warrant.
“I still don’t even know what we’re doing out here!” Jon exclaims. “It’d be nice to know, seeing as it’s my land and all.”
“Just let them do their thing,” Holt murmurs, watching his son dig.
Logan jams the soil and a metal thump sounds. His eyes widen as they meet mine and then he and Jack pick up the pace, uncovering the stainless steel canister.
My heart pounds in my chest.
“Em? How do you want to do this?” Logan asks as they stare down at the buried artifact.
“Properly. This is evidence.”
“Of what?” Wariness flitters across Jon’s face.
I look at Logan and then at Terry, whose interest is finally piqued. “Remember that jewelry heist I was looking into?”