Henderson’s mouth tightened. “Your mother was brilliant. And reckless. She crossed lines.”
“She was protecting something,” Heather said. “You were trying to own it.”
Henderson scoffed. “Ownership is a childish word. Stewardship—”
“That’s enough,” the officer cut in.
Henderson turned, incredulous. “You’re interrupting me?”
“Yes,” he said flatly. “And you are being detained.”
The word seemed to finally register.
Henderson laughed incredulously. “Detained? For scholarship?”
“For conspiracy,” another officer said. “Breaking and entering. Harassment. And obstruction in a reopened mysterious homicide investigation.”
Henderson’s gaze snapped back to Heather, sharp with betrayal.
“You don’t even understand what you’re giving up,” she hissed. “Do you know what that gold represents? What it could have funded? Proven?”
Heather held her gaze.
“I know exactly what it represents,” she said. “And it was never yours to prove.”
The officers took Henderson by the arms.
She stiffened, affronted to the end. “This is a mistake,” she said coldly. “History will correct it. It always does.”
Heather didn’t respond.
Didn’t follow her with her eyes as she was led to the cruiser.
Didn’t need the last word.
Flynn’s hand slid into hers as Eleanor exhaled behind them—long and unsteady.
“Slimy wee bitch,” she murmured.
Heather huffed a laugh.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Slimy, indeed.”
The cruiser door closed.
The lights dimmed.
And for the first time in centuries, the story was no longer hiding from anyone.
Heather turned back toward the cottage.
“Come on,” she said quietly.
“We’ve got something to return.”
Chapter 54
Heather—Present Day
