Henrietta had tossed and turned—again—most of the night, worrying about the girl asleep down the hall. When the clock finally struck six, she sent a message to Ralph asking him to come over as soon as he could, making sure to state it wasn’t urgent.

  He’d come just a little after seven and now she had to share what she’d discovered from his missing person. She also had to somehow convince him not to tell the people who had hired him that he’d found the girl they were looking for. Henrietta wasn’t sure she even wanted to call Cybil their daughter at this point.

  “Spit it out, Henri,” he said, his brows dipping into a frown.

  “Oh, Ralph,” she said, tossing her hands up, “it’s bit of a mess.”

  “Hey now,” he said, coming around the counter and gripping her firmly, but gently at the shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “First, you have to promise me that you won’t speak a word of this to anyone yet. Promise?”

  “This sounds serious.”

  “Promise?” she repeated.

  “Yeah, I promise.”

  “I found Cybil Markham.”

  “You what?” His voice was loud, and Henrietta shushed him with another look upstairs. “Please don’t tell me she is upstairs at this very moment. I swear, Henrietta, if you—”

  “You said you wouldn’t say anything. You promised!”

  “That was before it was my job we were talking about! I’m in a contract with this girl’s parents. They are worried sick and—”

  “Just hold on a moment, let me explain a few things to you.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue but, true to his good nature, Ralph kept his mouth shut and nodded for her to continue. She explained the whole conversation she’d had with the girl the night before and how she was fairly certain that she was telling the truth. Probably.

  “Your assurance is stunning,” he said with dry humor.

  “One can never truly know the mind of another. You know that just as well as I.”

  He sighed heavily. “I do. But you’ve got to let me talk with her.”

  “That’s why I had you come over. I figured if you’re already here when she wakes up, there won’t be much chance that she’ll disapprove of me calling you…”

  “Sneaky,” he observed, before continuing, “What do you think, though, honestly, Henri?” This time, Ralph’s stare held no humor, only serious, deductive reasoning.

  “I’m not sure what to think. She seems to be telling the truth, though there is the chance she knows more than she’s let on and she has yet to say what that is. But I don’t think she’s completely pulling the wool over our eyes.”

  “I trust your judgement. Let’s see if we can’t help the girl.”

  They tromped up the stairs, Ralph’s heavy boots making much more racket than Henrietta would have approved of if he’d just been coming up to see her. Instead, she figured the noise could be a good way to wake up the girl. It was already past seven-thirty and, while it was still early and she wanted the girl to recover, she still wanted to figure this out as quickly as possible.

  She also wanted to ask Cybil about the puzzle box, something she’d meant to do the night before but had forgotten in the midst of what Cybil had shared.

  Knocking softly on the door, she called out, “Cybil? Sorry to bother you, dear. Cybil?”

  There was no response and Henrietta frowned. She tried the handle, but it was locked. “Cybil? Is everything all right?” Still no response. “I hope she’s all right!” she said to Ralph.

  “Want me to kick in the door?”

  Henrietta gasped. “Are you out of your mind! That door is original to this house. Men,” she said, rolling her eyes as she slipped down the hallway to her room and came back with a key in hand. “Another good thing about the Victorian era, they made the best keys.” She slipped the large, ornate key into the lock. The door opened quickly and silently on well-oiled hinges to reveal an empty room.

  “She’s gone.”

  The sheer curtains on the south-facing window fluttered in the soft sea breeze.

  “Well, I’ll be. She climbed out the window.”

  “We’re on the second story!” Henrietta said, alarmed.

  “Right, but…” Ralph stuck his head out of the window. “Yep. She just went out onto the roof, used the wisteria trellis, and poof. She’s gone.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  “Now do you believe her?”

  Henrietta shot him a look. “I’m not sure. I still believe at least some of what she was telling me is the truth.”

  “Right, but which parts?” He sent her a pointed look.

  That was something she wouldn’t be able to answer.

  “I have an idea, though,” Ralph said, rubbing at his stubbled jaw. “I’m going to ask Scott to look into that email you got.”

  “Why are we back on that email?”

  “Because something isn’t adding up and I’d like to know what that something is.”

  “What are you going to do about your clients?” she asked, worried at his reply.

  He took in a breath, looking at her. “Seeing as how I don’t know where the girl is…” He held out his hands, indicating the room. “It looks like I’ve got nothing to report yet.”

  She beamed up at him. “For that, you can have an extra scone.”

  “That’s what I was hoping,” he said with a grin.

  11

  “Things are looking good,” Scott said, looking at a ‘sold’ tag attached to the end of a nineteenth century fainting couch.

  “Yes, I’d say things are going well for this year’s festival,” Henrietta agreed. She walked around the covered area, trailing her hand along some of her favorite pieces, most now sold. Thankfully, almost every person who had purchased a large item stationed on the lawn had agreed to wait until the festival was over to claim their items. With the exception of an eccentric older man who was just passing through for one day, her outdoor showcase was mostly untouched.

  “I’m glad we’ve had all this out here,” Olivia said, coming up with a stack of paper bags. “It makes it feel so welcoming and is really bringing people in to the main shop as well.”

  “Yes, I am happy with how things have been selling. The teacups especially. Odd, but they are selling out like crazy!”

  Scott shrugged. “Beats me as to why you’d want a teacup—it’s gone in two gulps.”

  Both Henrietta and Olivia laughed, sharing a smile between them. “Have a tea party and you’ll know why,” Olivia said.

  “No thanks.” Scott wrinkled his nose, then turned to Henrietta. “Hey, could we talk inside real quick? My dad should be here any minute.”

  “Of course,” Henrietta said, turning to Olivia. “Why don’t we switch places for a bit. You’ve been caged up inside all morning.”

  “It’s no problem, but yes. Let’s switch. I’ll be out here,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Scott before moving to the register they’d set up outside.

  “Follow me, Scott,” Henrietta said, leading the way up the steps to the shop inside. She noticed that a few pieces had sold inside since that morning as well and she was beginning to feel even better about this year’s festival. It wasn’t so much the money coming in that she cared about, but she did want to make sure that what she had on hand was what the populace was interested in.

  With the resurgence of vintage-inspired styles and ‘retro fever,’ as she termed it, Henrietta had seen major growth in the online portion of her business in addition to the in-shop purchases. Youth all the way up into Canada would come down and shop in her little antique haven, seeking out everything from vintage clothing to records and old cameras. She made certain to have things on hand that were major attractions in addition to the larger pieces of furniture that often sold to those restoring old houses.

  “What’s this all about?” she asked Scott when they reached the register at the heart of the shop.

  “It’s about what my dad called me to look into. I wasn’t expecting to get a hit this soon, but—”

  “A hit? So, then you did find something?”

  He hesitated. “I really should wait for my dad.”

  “Yes. Of course. We both know he’ll be sore if you spill the beans early.”

  He grinned, thankful that she understood, and pulled out his laptop. He set it on the counter and started typing away.

  Henrietta helped a few customers looking for carnival glass before Ralph finally showed up.

  “It’s about time.”

  “I had to rescue a cat out of a tree.”

  “That’s a new one,” Henrietta mused.

  “Actually, it’s a very old one, and in this case, it happens to be true. Missus White let that black cat of hers hop up in the tree again. I swear the cat just does it for the attention.”

  “You’d never do anything like that,” Henrietta crooned to Sepia atop the grandfather clock.

  She licked her paw in response.

  “So, what’s this all about?”

  “I did what you asked me—”

  “Now that’s a first.”

  “Dad.” Scott gave his father a look and went back to his computer. “And I looked into the original pinging addresses from where the email was sent from.”

  “Hold up.” Ralph held up his hand. “The what?”

  “Suffice it to say…” Scott tapped a few keys, ignoring his father’s question, and then turned the computer screen their way.

  “That’s Heart’s Grove,” Henrietta said, noticing the topography right away.

  “And that—” Scott pointed out. “—is where the threatening email originated from.”

  She shrugged. “I mean, it is brilliant that you can narrow it down, but we had to assume that someone local was interested in getting the box.”

  “That’s not all,” Scott said. “I was…curious. Dad also told me about your guest.”

  “Ralph!” Henrietta chided.

  “Hey. He’s my son and my partner. He’s got a right to know.”

  “Either way,” Scott interrupted. “Look at this.” He clicked another key and a separate bubble popped up very close to the first one.

  “What are we seeing, son?”

  Henrietta moved closer.

  “That—” Scott said. “—is where the email to you about Cybil originated from.”

  “Wait, but…” Ralph looked up. “From Heart’s Grove?”

  “From the same computer.”

  Henrietta kept her gaze roaming over the people that surrounded her, Ralph by her side. The unsettling news about the origin of the emails—both to her and to Ralph—worried at the back of her mind, but they had a more pressing need. Find out where Cybil was.

  “You think she’ll be here?” Ralph whispered to Henrietta.

  “I’m not sure, honestly.” Henrietta worried her lip for a minute. She was kicking herself for not asking the girl about the puzzle box earlier.

  It had been several hours since Cybil left the room at the house, and she and Ralph had devised a sort of plan. They would announce that they were bringing the puzzle box out for an hour for anyone who wanted to see it. As she’d thought it might, the anonymity of the box itself had drawn quite an interest from the crowd.

  She’d heard snatches of conversation around her as she had looked at booths earlier during the day, and many people had said it contained treasure or a key to some secret place. It had made Henrietta want to laugh because she had no idea what it contained and wouldn’t be able to tell anyone even if they asked, but no one was asking—merely speculating.

  Now though, with Scott and Ralph having brought the box out of the safe and onto a small velvet pillow on a pedestal covered by a plexiglass shield Henrietta had used in her shop before, everyone oohed and ahhed around it as if it were the queen’s jewels themselves.

  “Isn’t this a little risky?” Ralph asked.

  “Not exactly.” She did agree that there was the possibility someone might try something dramatic, but so far, nothing had happened. She also hadn’t seen Cybil yet, which worried her.

  There was no way to know if Cybil knew anything about the puzzle box and, since she hadn’t had a chance to ask the girl about it, Henrietta could only guess as to what the girl would say. Had her grandfather shown her the box before? Was it possible she knew the code to open the combination lock? If she didn’t know about it, then who was it that wanted the box?

  “What’s the bid up to?” Ralph asked.

  “I’m not sure. I think the last time I looked, it was nearing one thousand.”

  “Wow.” Ralph whistled low. “For that wooden box? It worth that much?”

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

  “So, I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she said with a cryptic smile. “But I will say that perhaps it’s not the box itself that is worth so much to someone but the contents of the box that are so important.”

  “I’ll say it again. Why don’t we smash it and open it?”

  “A few reasons, the least of them being decency to the artist.” She shot him a pointed look. “There are some that say attempting to open a puzzle box by force can do a few things that we’d rather not risk. One being it could destroy whatever was inside. These puzzle makers were very adept at what they did and it’s possible there could even be a small-scale explosive device waiting for us.”

  “No,” Ralph said, not convinced.

  “It would be rare, but it has happened in the past.”

  “Why else?” Ralph asked, and she could see the thought of danger did nothing to the man.

  “Whatever is inside could be part of the box or puzzle.”

  “How so?”

  “You saw the first piece and how it was removed, did you not?”

  “Yep.”

  “If we get to the inner workings of the box, perhaps the numeric code releases a piece but it must be joined with another and another in turn. We’d never know the sequence if we simply smashed the thing open.”

  “Now that,” Ralph said with a nod, “makes sense.”

  “Glad you approve.” Her eyes had just passed over the back corner when she thought she saw Cybil. “Ralph!”

  “What?” he asked, following her stare.

  “It looked like her. In that back corner.”

  “I’ll go check it out.”

  She nodded but before he left, he leaned in close. “Don’t you go anywhere.”

  She smiled her agreement and watched him skirt his way around the crowd. Scott was on the other side of the puzzle box and she was certain that he would be able to stop anyone should the need arise. But what about—

  “Don’t turn around. Come with me and don’t make a scene.” Something poked into her back and she let out a gasp of surprise.

  “I will not—”

  “If you don’t want my partner back there to harm your precious private investigator, you’ll do as I say. And remember, don’t turn around.”

  Henrietta had a moment to weigh her options. Stay, make a scene, and create panic, or leave quietly with the person poking a gun into her back, hoping that she’d be able to alter the situation elsewhere.

  “Fine.”

  His grip on her arm was like a vice. “Stop struggling.”

  Henrietta wanted to explain to the man that she didn’t feel like being a lamb led to the slaughter, but she realized now was not the time. Instead, she allowed him to guide her toward the back of the area and out into the late afternoon sun.

  He hesitated only a moment before walking around one of the food trucks and shoving her inside the back. It was a taco truck she hadn’t seen before and all of the windows were closed. Was it their taco truck or had he simply seen an opportunity for privacy and taken it?

  He released her and shoved her to a chair in the corner at the same time he pulled his extra-large hood down over his face. It had happened so quickly she hadn’t even had a chance to see what he looked like.

  “Modern conveniences,” the man said, pointing to the hood. “Kids think they look cool. Criminals see them as an advantage.”

  Henrietta was disgusted, but she didn’t want to anger her captor just yet. “Hmm,” was all she said.

  The next moment, the door opened, and a shorter person walked in, hood pulled down in the same way.

  “You got her. Good.”

  The other person was clearly a woman, though her voice sounded lower than most, and Henrietta noticed how she stayed close to the man, almost in an intimate type of way.

  “Yeah. You do your part?”

  “Sure did,” she said, laughing. Then she fell silent as she turned to face Henrietta. “Why wouldn’t you do as we’d asked?”

  “You mean in your threatening email? Why didn’t I give in to fearmongering and threats? I think not.”

  “Oh, she sounds so hoity toity!” The woman made as if to advance toward Henrietta, but the man held her back.

  “Not now.” He turned back to Henrietta. “You’re going to help us out.”

  Henrietta wanted to laugh but knew they were serious. “Oh? In what way will I do that?”

  “You’re going to get that puzzle box and bring it to us at San Juan Point tonight at midnight. No one with you, no cops.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  The man’s head tilted. “For many reasons, the first of which being that you’re a decent person. The second being that, if you don’t, Cybil’s body is going to wash up on shore in a day or two and you’ll feel really bad knowing you could have prevented her death.”

  Henrietta took in a deep breath at the man’s words but remained calm. “I see.”

  “See, she’s gonna do it. I told you she would.”

  “Hush,” the man said. “Now, have we made ourselves clear?”

  “Quite.” Henrietta kept her eyes on where she assumed the man’s eyes were. The next instant, the woman moved and pulled a bag over her head, and the world went black.

  12

  When Henrietta finally managed to make it out of the food truck, using one of the knives she’d seen attached to a magnetic strip at the back of the prep area to cut the intricately knotted rope that bound her wrists, she raced to the tent where she’d left Ralph.