“No, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Sybil never mentioned a find like that to me.”
“We’ve been very careful to keep away from anything that they might consider interesting,” Faye mused to herself. “Sybil knew that. She wouldn’t deliberately go after a recovery if there was any chance they might want it too.”
“If it’s ours, then we get it back,” Erik stated matter-of-factly, popping open a can of soda.
“No dear, we don’t.” Faye sighed. “If we lose a valuable find, then we lose a valuable find. It’s far more important for us to protect our anonymity.”
“So, we let them kill one of ours and take something that belongs to us?” Maddie’s eyes were blazing with indignation. “Again?”
Faye glanced at her sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid we must. It seems like the last straw, but we can’t retaliate. There’s too much at stake here to risk exposure.”
“I suppose.” Maddie relented slightly. “What about the kid? Do we tell her anything?”
Faye folded her hands on the table, regarding her guests gravely. “Sybil died to protect our secret. We owe her a great debt. She always said she wanted to keep Cassie safe.”
“By safe, you mean in the dark?” Erik asked, a slight edge of sarcasm in his voice.
“‘If ignorance is bliss, ‘twere folly to be wise,’” Faye observed softly. “I believe we have an obligation to respect Sybil’s wishes.”
The group was silent for a few moments, mulling over the old woman’s decision. When the phone rang suddenly, they all jumped. It wasn’t the phone on the wall, but a cell phone lying on the kitchen counter.
Griffin looked puzzled. “Who would be calling you at this hour and on that line?”
“Guess we’re gonna find out.” Erik reached over and handed the phone to Faye, so she wouldn’t have to struggle to her feet.
She nodded her thanks to him. “Hello?”
There was a long pause.
“Why, yes. Of course, you may.”
Another pause.
“Oh, I think it’s much too late tonight. You’d never find your way here in the dark. How about tomorrow at noon?”
Faye then gave her address and detailed directions to her house.
“Fine, I’ll see you then. We’ll have much to talk about.” She laid the phone down on the table. A look of bewilderment crossed her face.
The other three stared at her, waiting for an explanation.
Faye wordlessly got up and started to make another pot of coffee.
“Faye?” Maddie prompted. “Are you alright?”
“Hmmm?” Faye turned absently toward her guests. “Well, as I was saying, I believe we have an obligation to respect Sybil’s wishes to keep Cassie away from this business.”
“Yes…” Erik nudged her along.
She looked around at their baffled faces. “I just never expected her to change her mind—posthumously.”
Chapter 9 – Lost in Translation
The morning after he acquired the key, Abraham was waiting for a visitor in his prayer closet. He called it a closet, but the dimensions were the size of an average living room. It was the space where he conversed directly with God. Heavy drapes barred the passage of sunlight through the room’s two tall windows. Abraham liked cloaking the closet in shadow. It helped his concentration. There was an oak stand between the windows which supported a heavy leather-bound Bible. The wall to the right of the windows consisted of a series of built-in cabinets with locked doors. They contained sacred documents that were intended for his eyes only. A prie-dieu occupied the corner to the left of the windows. In a rare concession to comfort, the kneeler was padded. On another wall hung the portrait of an elderly man with a white beard. He bore a strong resemblance to Abraham, but the cut of his suit hadn’t been in fashion for at least fifty years. His eyes stared down on the room. They were humorless and disapproving. A plaque embedded in the bottom of the picture frame announced that he was Josiah Metcalf—Diviner. Positioned directly below the picture was a small round table and two hard-bottomed chairs.
Abraham was leafing through some pages of the Bible when he heard a gentle knock on the door. He absently said, “Enter,” without looking up from the page he was reading.
A man of about thirty came in. He was of medium height. Although his hair was cropped short, it insisted on asserting its curliness. No amount of combing could straighten it out completely. His eyes were dark brown behind horn-rimmed glasses, his complexion sallow. He wore the usual white dress shirt, black tie, and black trousers, but the clothes didn’t seem to fit him properly. They seemed too big for his slight frame and rumpled even though they had been newly pressed. His shoulders sagged.
“Good morning, Father,” he said tentatively. “You wanted to see me?”
Abraham turned toward his guest. “Yes, that’s right. Sit down, Daniel.” He indicated one of the two chairs.
The visitor glanced up briefly at the portrait before he slid into his chair. He sat forward anxiously, his hands grasping the seat.
Abraham remained standing near the windows. “Daniel, remind me again which of my sons you are.”
The younger man didn’t seem to consider the question odd. “I am your twentieth son, Father,” he answered readily.
“And which of my wives is your mother?”
“My mother is Deborah, your fifth wife,” Daniel looked down, “though she has passed from this life.”
The older man’s expression was vague. “Hmmm, yes, I do seem to recall now. She’s been departed, what is it, nearly two years? Never mind, boy. She has gone to wait for me in the next world. We will be reunited there. How many wives do you have now?”
Daniel cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You have blessed me with three wives, Father.”
Abraham looked pleased with himself. “That’s a good start though some of your brothers at the same age have collected more.” He paused to consider. “Still, it’s a good start. And how many children?”
Daniel seemed to be fighting the urge to squirm in his chair. “Three so far.”
“Three?” Abraham registered shock. “Are any of your wives barren?”
“N… no, I
