This was far more information than Cressida had expected, and she held back the tears. While she was eager to understand how this related to theSpecter’s Bounty, she would allow the woman her story.
“Then...” She released a heavy sigh. “Caleb. I blame myself. This is all on me. Caleb got into trouble with the wrong people. He had to disappear, and my father sent him off on a cargo ship in exchange for his safety. A boat that was lost at sea. It felt like I was reliving a nightmare. Just like he’d sent Nick away, he sent Caleb away. Except my father loved Caleb. Adored him.”
Was this the lostSpecter’s Bounty? Caleb was the connection here?
Evelyn stared at her empty teacup, her expression grim. Cressida was surprised she allowed herself to be so vulnerable with a stranger. She didn’t know how to steer the conversation to the ghost ship, but she wouldn’t push. Mrs. Monroe had shared this story for a reason. It must be connected.
Finally, Evelyn sat up tall, composed, her mind back in the present. “You’re here about your father’s book and his research. There’s much to know about theSpecter’s Bounty. For one, that isn’t the original name the locals called the ghost ship.”
“I learned a few things at the museum. It was previously called theEndeavor Spirit, and it was lost.”
Evelyn froze and her eyes flashed. “That’s the story we’re told.”
“So it’s not true?”
“The truth is complicated. It’s also dangerous. Before my father died, he sold the company—our family’s company—because he had no one to take it on. I wasn’t going to take it. He did, however, give me a sizable chunk of money, and by then I had grown older and wiser, and I took that money. I was a woman with a mission. Then, after he died, my biggest regret was that I hadn’t forgiven him while he was alive. I still blamed him for Nick’s death, and then I blamed him for Caleb’s death too, though I knew my father mourned his grandson. He had to die before I realized that I needed to forgive him no matter what he’d done.”
Cressida couldn’t fathom why Evelyn would tell her. Still ... “But you believe he was involved in your husband’s death. In other words, sending him to his death. It was intentional. How do you forgive someone like that?” The words were out of her mouth before she could pull them back.
Evelyn’s eyes grew gentle as if she sensed Cressida’s deeper personal struggle. “It isn’t that he deserved my forgiveness. None of us is deserving.”
Cressida waited for more but then realized Evelyn had said all she would say. Embarrassed at her outburst, she focused on her notes, writing out what she’d heard.
Then Evelyn continued. “I purchased this property and the lodge ... I sat in this big, old manor and watched and waited for my son’s ship to return. I hired three different investigators to find the ship he was on that went missing, find out what happened to it at the very least. Each of them came back empty-handed and then died shortly after.” Evelyn drew in a long breath, then slowly released it. She lifted her gaze to meet Cressida’s, as if what she would say next was something profound. “Death seemed to surround my search, so I ended it. I never wanted anyone else to end up like Caleb. To be on the run for their life, caught up in danger they couldn’t escape. So when a situation comes to my attention, I arrange for safe harbor here in Hidden Bay, but that’s all I’ll say on that. It’s no longer safe if too many people know.”
She held Cressida’s gaze—her eyes intense, dark, and filled with meaning. “Do you understand?”
“Absolutely.” Cressida understood she should never cross this woman.
If she didn’t have to.
Cressida sat on the plush sofa, stunned at Evelyn’s story—this one-of-a-kind story that she could have read in a novel. It seemed surreal. Evelyn had raised more questions. Why had she wanted to talk to Cressida? As if her story or what she would say might be connected to Cressida’s search and reveal the truth about the ghost ship. Now it was her job to direct the conversation.
“I noticed the photograph of theSpecter’s Bountyin the Cedar Trails Lodge, and others claimed to have seen it. Have ... you...?” The question came out raspy.
“No. I’ve never seen it.” Evelyn’s eyes remained on Cressida, but her thoughts were far away.
“But the picture ... I believe Remi Beckett, your employee, took the photograph. It’s hanging up at the lodge.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said slowly. “That appears to be a picture of the salvage boat the locals callSpecter’s Bounty.”
Her tone had changed and was measured now. Guarded. Like a door slowly closing. She’d been only too willing to talk about theSpecter’s Bountymoments before, even sharing deep personal secrets about her life.
Cressida had to somehow bring her back around to talk about her son’s disappearance. “So your son disappeared on theSpecter’s Bounty?” She assumed he had, since they’d been discussing the boat.
But Evelyn didn’t answer.
Braden leaned forward. “Wait. That’s not it, is it? He was on another—”
“Shush.” Evelyn’s face twisted, angry lines carving deeper into her gentle features. “I’ve said too much already.”
Had Braden picked up on some nuance that Cressida had missed?
With the release of a shaky breath, Evelyn shifted from formidable to feeble.
“I don’t understand.” Mrs. Monroe hadn’t asked to see her to simply shut her down. Maybe recalling her own story had triggered a memory she didn’t want to relive or share. Cressida ignored the surging disappointment. She thought she’d get answers from Evelyn—especially since her father seemed to put so much emphasis on an interview with her—but now Cressida only had more questions.
Investigators came back empty-handed and then died shortly after. Maybe thoughts of those who’d died on this treacherous search caused the shift in the woman’s attitude. Warning signals went off in Cressida’s head. One question burned inside her mind and heart the brightest—Was my father truly murdered over this? And by whom?
