Not likely. Very little slumber was on his agenda for this night.
But hopefully he could clock a few hours before he left for the cave.
“I hope you sleep well too. Are you going to church in the morning?”
“Yes. The eight o’clock Mass. You’re welcome to join me. You’d like Father Johnson.”
It was the same ritual they went through every Saturday night.
“Not this week, Natalie. But say a prayer for me.”
“Always. Good night.”
He left the kitchen and strolled down the hall to his room. Entered and shut the door. Stretched out on the bed.
Near as he could tell, Natalie had bought his story about the blood on the cloth and the pillow. Rather than doubt him, she’d begun to doubt herself.
It appeared all the glitches that had occurred in the past forty-eight hours were working in his favor.
But pushing his luck wouldn’t be wise. He needed to double down and find the treasure.
So he’d put in an extra hour or two tonight. And he’d come down early again next week, even if Cara would be on the premises and cameras would be in place. If he was careful, he could avoid both.
It wouldn’t be hard to fabricate an excuse for an extended visit. All he had to do was say the blow to his head had taken more out of him than he’d thought and that a few quiet days would help him recuperate. If pressed, he could claim he’d gone to urgent care and discovered he had a mild concussion.
Natalie would believe anything he told her.
And Cara shouldn’t be a problem. He could find his way to the cave without lights at night. She’d never spot him.
But the search was getting old, and the longer it went on, the higher the risk of someone discovering his activity.
So while he put zero stock in praying and far less in a God who’d never once bailed him out of any of the scrapes he’d gotten in, perhaps the cosmos would smile on him, lead him to the treasure, and bring this unhappy chapter in his life to an end.
COULD SHE BE LOSING IT?
As the clock inched toward three o’clock, Natalie tugged the covers up to her chin and wadded them in her fists.
The question that had been strobing through her mind ever since she went to bed, through all the hours she’dtossed and turned and stared at the dark ceiling, continued to plague her.
Was it possible her recollection of the sequence of events around Steven’s departure for the grocery store was off?
Yet she’d gone over and over it in her mind and kept coming up with the same scenario.
Steven had offered to do her grocery shopping for her.
While he’d gone to his room to collect his keys and wallet, she’d taken a quick inventory of the fridge and cabinets and written out a list. A mere eight items, the minimum she needed, so as not to burden him too much.
She’d finished writing the last item as he returned.
The whole process couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, max.
Yet he said it had been at least fifteen. Long enough for him to lie down and take a brief rest.
That wasn’t how she remembered it.
Moonlight leaked through the canted shutters of her room, creating a ghostly pattern on the ceiling, and she tucked the blanket higher as a shiver snaked through her.
The sequence of events wasn’t the only piece of the picture that didn’t fit.
