The revelation stuns me. “You left the first note? Not Reeves?”
“I was trying to warn you off before you got too deep.” He rubs his weathered hands together. “Reeves has been watching me—he thinks I’m helping him locate what Samuel found. I’ve been feeding him just enough to stay useful while trying to keep the real discoveries out of his hands.”
“You’re playing both sides.”
“I’m trying to protect what your father died protecting.” His voice cracks slightly. “Samuel and I had our differences, but we both loved this place. When Reeves approached me, I saw a chance to learn what he was really after. I’ve been documenting everything, building a case.”
“A case for whom?”
“The state historical preservation office. And Chief Barnes—off the record, for now.” He glances toward town. “I can’t prove anything yet. Reeves is careful. But if you keep finding what Samuel hid, and I keep tracking Reeves’s movements...”
“We build the case together,” I finish.
Dawson nods slowly. “I know you have no reason to trust me. But I’m asking you to consider it. For Samuel.”
He turns to leave, then pauses. “One more thing. That key you found—Samuel showed me one just like it once. Said it opened his ‘insurance policy.’ I never knew what he meant.”
After he’s gone, I pull out the key, turning it over in my fingers. Insurance policy. Dad was always planning ahead, always protecting what mattered.
Finn and I stay in the cove several more minutes, my mind racing. The vial containing the ancient document feels heavy in my pocket, another piece of Dad’s documentation.
My phone buzzes. Text from Sid: “Found interesting information about Coastal Development. Meeting with a contact who knows more. Will call soon.”
I stare at the message. Dawson’s revelation has shifted everything. He’s not the enemy—he’s been working to stop Reeves all along. But can I trust him completely?
One thing stays clear: I need to recover my driftwood star, not just because of its emotional significance, but for the historical record it safeguards.
The seventh and final location on Dad’s map will have to wait. With the vial tucked away, Finn and I head back toward town. Christmas Market music grows louder. My shop stays closed, my booth empty, but these normal concerns feel distant compared to the historical mystery I’ve stumbled into.
I text Sid that I’m heading home and will meet him there.
The walk home gives me time to organize thoughts. The Salvador Mundi, the Star of Sebastian, Dad’s careful documentation, Reeves and his investors, Dawson’s double game. All circling around my missing driftwood star and whatever secret information it contains.
By the time Finn and I reach my cottage, I’ve decided. I’ll trust Dawson—cautiously—and keep working with Sid. Priority: recover the star and protect Dad’s discovery.
Inside, I secure the vial with our other findings in the basement. Then I remember Dawson’s words about the key. Insurance policy.
I search the basement more thoroughly than I have in three years, moving boxes of old conservation equipment, checking corners I’d ignored. And there, behind a stack of outdatedmarine surveys, I find it: a small fireproof lockbox I’d somehow missed when clearing out Dad’s things.
The key slides in perfectly.
Inside: a USB drive and a handwritten note.
Marnie—if you’re reading this, you’ve followed the map. The drive contains everything: coordinates, photographs, authentication documents. The Star of Sebastian is real, and it’s hidden where the lighthouse keepers have protected it for a century. Trust Tommy Fields. And trust yourself. Love, Dad.
I stareat the note until the words blur. He’d planned for this. Planned for someone to threaten his discovery. Planned for me to find it.
A car pulls into the driveway. Through the window, Sid’s silver Audi parks beside my truck.
I pocket the USB drive. Time to see how far this partnership can go.
Dad’s legacy extends far beyond the environmental conservation work he was known for. Now it falls to me to ensure that legacy is protected, starting with the recovery of my star and the secrets it contains.
Chapter Seven
Four sharp knocks sound at the front door. Finn positions himself at my side as I move to answer it, uncertainty churning within me after Dawson’s revelations about the Gillespie family.
Sid stands on my porch, his expression animated. “I think I know where your star might be.”
