A crease formed on Charlotte’s forehead. “I thought the Digi Robins disbanded.”
“They’ve gone dark for now, but disbanded completely? I don’t think so.” He focused his attention on the book again. “But until I know why Flynn is trying to make contact, this stays between you and me.”
She leaned back in her chair. “When you showed up here after hours looking for books, I agreed as an olive branch. We all feel bad about how it went down at the Bonaventure, but I didn’t agree to keep secrets from my crew. My father may work for you, but I don’t.”
“Seems your crew didn’t feel bad enough to return the gold bars I gave them for payment.”
Charlotte smirked. “They’re still pirates, Agent Bale. They found Pandora’s Box and got it back into your hands. It didn’t end the way we all hoped it would, but they held up their end of the bargain with you.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He clenched his jaw to keep from saying something that would encourage her to kick his ass out of her museum.
They worked in silence for the better part of an hour before Charlotte gasped. “I think I found something.”
David set his book aside and came around her desk. “What is it?”
She pointed to her computer screen. “The Flying Dutchman enslaved spirits lost at sea.”
“Yeah.” He searched the text on her screen. “But there’s no way a coven of witches pulled a whole ship out of the ocean without someone noticing. They can’t be using the ship.”
Charlotte scrolled down a little farther and placed her finger on the screen. “But what about the figurehead?”
David skimmed the captain’s log. It mentioned the hellish glow of the cursed figurehead on the Flying Dutchman, calling to the souls recently perished when the captain’s ship took on water.
It could have been the exhausted ramblings of a guilt-ridden sea captain, but David’s gut told him this was the lead he’d been searching for. And if he was right, the next step would be figuring out how a coven got their hands on it.
“This is good.” He nodded, taking a photo of her screen in place of handwritten notes. “I’ll check in with your father and see if he can find any references to the figurehead in our Department 13 files.”
“I’ll let you know if I come across any more mentions here, too.”
David straightened his tie. “Thank you.” He crossed to the door and looked back. “And I’ll ask again, please leave the rest of the Sea Dog crew out of this.”
She removed her glasses. “I don’t know why Captain Flynn is looking for the leader of the Digi Robins, but the Sea Dog crew could be an asset in this search. No one knows Savannah as well as they do.”
“No thanks. I’ve got it from here.” He climbed the stairs from the basement, taking them two at a time. He had work to do.
Chapter Eight
Heather moved a couple more dusty boxes and wiped her hands on her skirt. Why did her grandmother keep telling her to come up here? The lamp in the corner barely illuminated the attic space, so she had her cell phone flashlight on, too, as she read her grandmother’s scrawled writing on the boxes. Being in a dimly lit attic at night might’ve been like a scene from a horror movie, but with Drake working alongside her and her grandmother’s spirit whispering in her ear, the creep factor dropped dramatically.
“I wish I knew what I was looking for.” She sighed and reached for another box.
Drake glanced her way as he restacked the boxes she had already inspected. “Can’t you call your grandmother, or whatever it is you do to talk to the ghosts? Maybe she can tell us.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I wish it were that easy.” She looked up at him. “It’s not like making a phone call. I get words, or pictures, and sometimes both, but the souls are energy now, and I think they forget that I can’t just flash through time and space like they do. They expect me to understand their messages, but on my end, they’re usually more like a riddle than an answer.”
“Can I help? What has she told you so far?” He leaned on the stack of boxes, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Even dusty and weary, he made her heart pound. It had nothing to do with any past lives they may have shared and everything to do with that kiss. Her toes might never uncurl. It had started so slow and tender and ignited a passion that burned her from the inside out.
But he was immortal. She tried to shove the thought aside, lied to herself that it didn’t matter, but after being burned by David, she should have learned. Why couldn’t she get weak knees from a regular, boring, mortal accountant? Someone mundane she could grow old with. She glanced over at the hulking pirate in her attic and sighed as her pulse raced. She needed to get a grip.
She pulled her hair back from her forehead, struggling to gather her thoughts. “She kept repeating that I was in danger and told me ‘it’ was in the attic.”
“It?”
“Yeah.” She sighed again. “Helpful, right? I got the feeling it was something for protection.”
“Like a talisman?”
“Could be.” She pointed at the boxes beside him. “But I doubt it’s in with the old pictures, 8mm film reels, and slides.”
He scanned the tight space and walked over to the cedar trunk in the corner. “What about this?”
“It’s a hope chest. My grandmother passed it down to my mother, then she filled it for me and my sister.”
He raised a brow. “What’s a hope chest?”
Heather smiled. “You fill it with hopes for a future marriage and family.”
“Did you use it?”
She shook her head.
