"I probably have an address for him," said Edna. "I'll get it for you."

She found the address and we slowly extracted ourselves from the house, and a few minutes later we were back in the hotel room. Sabrina was already in the shower and I was looking at a map online.

This was going to be our last chance. Sabrina was right. If Russ didn't have it, we were going home. And I didn't want to go home.

Chapter 15

We spent a quiet evening in our room, after dining at one of Fairfield's finer establishments. We were both subdued after the high and then quick low at the Simpsons' house. We certainly didn't want to have to go home. It wasn't so much about the supposed treasure as it was the curiosity of why people died for it. Plus, I think we were both wondering what would become of our relationship if we had to return to our normal lives.

It occurred to me over dinner that we had, in fact, solved one mystery. The Brooklyn Museum heist had been unsolved all these years. We thought we should inform them of the news. Then we figured that they had waited this long, they could wait a few more days or weeks.

We made love again that evening, and again it was strange. Not bad strange, just unusual. If she had been a virgin, I could maybe understand it, but she had been married. Then it hit me. It was like making love to a puppy dog. She was crying out for affection and couldn't get close enough to me. And yet, to protect me—protect us—she laid into those attackers like nothing I'd ever seen before.

"You're a very complex individual," I said just before we drifted off.

"Mmm," she replied, half asleep.

We slept in the next morning, then I went out for bagels and coffee. When I got back, she was on the phone to her editor talking book business.

While she was involved with that, I went back onto Ancestry.com to see if anything else popped out at me regarding my family. But no. My family—for better or worse—was as clear as it was ever going to be.

Sabrina was still deep in her conversation, so just for fun, I typed in Sabrina Spencer, with the parameters that would narrow it down. Nothing. That was strange. I thought for a minute and typed Isobel Worth, along with the same parameters. I found her almost immediately. Like my father, her death hadn't yet been added, but it was the right person, showing that she was forty-one.

I clicked onto her parents. It displayed their birth and death dates and locations, and also showed their children, Isobel and Patricia. Patricia? Patricia was adopted, and would now be thirty-four. Sabrina was Patricia? Why wouldn't she have told me that? Hadn't we reached a point of trust in our relationship?

She was off the phone and had opened her laptop to check her emails. Casually, I asked her, "So is Sabrina Spencer a pen name?"