Not Quite Dead (A Lowcountry Mystery)

Chapter Sixteen

"So, there's another diary out there somewhere with the rest of the story and what Anne believes is the answer to the curse this Caribbean woman put on her son?"

"I suppose. If she ever got the chance to write it, if Jack Jr. delivered it, and if the relative hung on to it and passed it down, if, if, if. It's just as likely the cousin tossed it away, thinking to protect her niece and even Jack from the world of his mother."

He clears the table, tossing our trash into the nearest army green receptacle. "Well, I definitely can't think you're crazy now. It'd be harder to believe that you came across that diary on accident. Something out there—something we don't understand—led you there because it believes you can do what needs to be done."

"That would involve actually knowing what that is, I assume."

"Isn't it obvious? We have to find the second journal."

"Why? Why do I care about Anne and Jack's descendants? I don't have time for this shit." And why does he keep saying we?

"Because you're a historian, Gracie. Don't try to tell me your brain hasn't been working a mile a minute, wondering if you can hunt down Mary Read's daughter's progeny or the kids running around with Anne Bonny and Calico Jack blood in their veins. It's the kind of unique contribution to history that comes around once in a lifetime, and you know it." The expression on his face dares me to disagree. "You still work at the library, right?"

"I doubt it. Mrs. LaBadie can't wait to fire me, and I haven't shown up for two days."

"You are terrible to that poor woman. I stopped by this morning and spoke with her, but the Freedmans had already informed her of Gramps's situation."

He talked to Mrs. LaBadie for me? I didn't ask him to do that, and besides, maybe I wanted to get fired.

The frown on his face says he can tell he's done something wrong, but he can't figure out exactly what. "I didn't mean to step on any toes, but it seemed like you had your hands full and I was stopping by to speak with Ralph anyway."

"Job or not, she's not going to let me anywhere near those archives." I ignore his explanation. "She guards them like a rat with a chunk of cheese." I bite my lip, mind reeling. "It would probably be as easy to track down Mary Read's family online, with all the genealogy records available now."

"You'd better do something," he comments as he wheels me inside. I don't have to turn around to know there's some kind of jab he finds amusing coming next—the smile in his voice gives it away. "I doubt Anne's going to leave you alone until you do what she wants.

The memory of her in my room last night, her focus not only undeterred but increased, tells me he's not wrong. Aside from the draw of the historical contribution, getting that pushy, reeking ghost to leave me alone might be prize enough.

"Why do you think she chose me, though? Am I just gullible? Did she know I'm a loser with no life who had time to spare? Did she think I drank enough to not question the appearance of a dead pirate in my life?"

"Can't say. Maybe she knew you'd care enough to follow her, or there's some other reason that's still a mystery—something we might learn later."

"You know, that's the second time you've used the word we." I angle my neck around but still can't quite see him. A cramp seizes my muscle and forces my face forward again.

There's something about having another person on my side without having to ask them to be there that makes my heart feel squishy. It's a strange feeling, one that hasn't been around since my romance ended with Will. That light hope that accompanies a brand-new friendship-maybe-more. I'd never realized David and I missed that stage until things were over. Our relationship was heavy from the start.