His candor confirms my worst fears about his intentions. Not preservation, not even legitimate development, but exploitation of historical artifacts for private gain.
“We don’t know where the Star of Sebastian is,” I tell him. “Dad never shared that information with me.”
“But he encoded its location in your driftwood creation,” Reeves counters. “The star points to the star, a rather poetic approach. We’ve analyzed the construction thoroughly, but certain elements remain unclear.”
The thought of strangers dismantling my careful creation, examining the pieces Dad and I collected together, fills me with renewed anger. “You’ve damaged it?”
“Examined it,” Reeves corrects. “The hollow space between the backing boards contained a microfilm with coordinates and authentication details, but part of the information appears to be missing. We believe the final element is here, in this cellar.”
So that’s how Dad had hidden the documentation. Microfilm inserted between the two backing pieces of the star, containing information that would authenticate the Salvador Mundi site and the Star of Sebastian itself.
“Even if we helped you,” Sid says, “what guarantee do we have that you’d return Marnie’s star or properly preserve the historical artifacts?”
“You have my word as a businessman,” Reeves replies, the platitude sounding hollow in the stone chamber.
“Not good enough,” I state.
Reeves sighs. “Then perhaps this will motivate cooperation.” He gestures to one of his men, who produces a phone and displays a photo on the screen.
The image shows my driftwood star, intact but obviously removed from its display context. Beside it sits a small bundle wrapped in protective cloth.
“The star and what we believe is the logbook mentioned in Samuel’s notes,” Reeves explains. “Both currently in our possession at a secure location. Help us locate the final piece, and you can have the star back today. Continue interfering, andwe’ll be forced to take more aggressive measures to protect our investment.”
The thinly veiled threat hangs in the air between us. Finn senses my tension, pressing against my leg.
“Samuel Lane discovered the Star of Sebastian, didn’t he?” Sid asks suddenly. “That’s why you’re so desperate to find whatever’s hidden in this wall. You need authentication elements to pair with what he already found.”
Reeves doesn’t confirm the speculation directly, but his expression shifts. “Your father was thorough,” he tells me. “Too thorough for his own good.”
The implication that Dad’s discovery might have contributed to his death sends a cold wave through me, despite Dawson’s assurance that the heart attack had been medically verified.
“I’m calling Chief Barnes,” Tommy announces, pulling out his phone.
One of Reeves’ men steps forward, but Finn interposes himself, a deep warning growl stopping the man in his tracks.
“That would be unproductive,” Reeves advises. “By the time authorities could establish any wrongdoing, the artifacts would be relocated. And Ms. Lane’s star might suffer unfortunate damage in the process.”
Tommy hesitates, looking to me for guidance. I consider our options carefully. Confrontation seems unwise given the imbalance of power. Cooperation feels like a betrayal of Dad’s careful work. Delay might be our best strategy.
“We need time to consider,” I say finally. “This isn’t a decision to make under duress.”
“You have until this evening,” Reeves counters. “6 PM at the caretaker’s cottage. Come alone, both of you.” He looks between Sid and me. “No police, no lighthouse curator, no additional parties.”
“And my star?” I press.
“Bring the information about what’s in this wall, and your star will be returned. Simple exchange.”
Nothing about this situation feels simple, but I nod agreement, buying us precious hours to formulate a better plan.
Reeves and his men depart, their footsteps echoing up the narrow staircase.
“We should call the police immediately,” Tommy urges once they’re out of earshot.
“And tell them what?” Sid asks. “That a businessman made vague statements about artifacts that may or may not exist? We need concrete evidence.”
“The star is concrete evidence,” I point out. “It was stolen from my shop.”
“But we don’t know where they’re keeping it,” Sid counters. “If we involve the police now, Reeves will simply relocate everything and deny all knowledge.”
