records?”
“Oh, yes indeed.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one thing, there was a midwife who gave birth in 1711 to a little girl named Libby Vail.”
“Spelled the same way?”
“Uh huh.”
“Now there’s a coincidence! Who were the parents?”
“Henry and Johanna Ames.”
“Oh, too bad. I suppose Libby Vail must have been a popular name back in those days.”
She looked at me and smiled. “Right.”
“I mean, even today there’s probably, what, five thousand Libby Vails walking around?”
“Try four.”
“Four?”
She fidgeted with her necklace again and said, “I did an internet search. There are exactly four of us in the whole United States.”
The thin gold chain around Libby’s neck looked new. The pendant attached to it was an old circular piece of metal with what appeared to be ancient etching.
“Tell me about the necklace,” I said.
“I found it when digging in the crawlspace my first day here. I went right to it, was drawn to it the minute we turned the corner. It’s quite old, but there’s no connection to Jack Hawley. Unless he loved playing rugby!”
She removed the necklace and handed it to me. On one side someone had scratched the words, “I Love.” On the other: “Rugby.”
“How old is this?”
“It’s old, at least two hundred years. But it couldn’t date to Jack Hawley’s time. I know, because I researched the sport and no one called it Rugby before 1750.”
“Whatever happened to Hawley?”
“He was captured and hanged on March 25, 1711.”
“You’re positive?”
“One hundred percent.”
I thought about how I had faked my death a couple of times, and said, “How can you be so sure?”
“Two sailors joined Hawley’s crew when they were on shore leave in Charleston, South Carolina. They turned Jack in to the authorities after watching him command the ship for an entire month.”
“How do you know he didn’t bury his treasure in Charleston?”
“Because, according to the traitors, he never left the ship in Charleston. They captured him in St. Alban’s, trying to buy produce for a voyage to Jamaica.”
“Any witnesses at the trial?”
“His best friends, George and Marie Stout, were forced to testify. Under protest, they identified Jack and admitted he used to paddle up the Little River and dock at their place. Their kids said Jack spent a lot of time there.”
“And you searched that area?”
“Every square inch. I thought I had it made when I discovered an old well on the actual tract that belonged to the Stouts. But I got nothing in the way of a vibe.”
We sat silently for a few minutes. Then I said, “How do you plan to explain your disappearance?”
“When I’m ready to rejoin society I’ll have someone drive me halfway across the country and drop me off in the woods near a city. I’ll wander into town and say I’ve been kidnapped, blindfolded, and moved around so much I don’t know where I’ve been all this time. They’ll ask loads of questions, and I’ll get a few things mixed up, but if I didn’t, it wouldn’t make sense, right?”
“The deputy said you were kidnapped.”
“Figuratively, not literally. When the descendants came and talked to me I thought they were crazy, but I promised to think about it. That night, alone in my dorm room, I started whispering my name while thinking about Hawley. And something happened. I know this will sound crazy to you, but I
“You’re right, it does sound crazy.”
“Told you.”
“Any history of insanity in your family?”
“None that I’ve found, and believe me, I’ve looked!”
“So it started as a treasure hunt, and now you’re helping people. If you want the big bucks, why not do a reality show on TV and make millions?”
