There was a rattle, for which I couldn’t distinguish the cause, and then the sound of a chair being dragged before I heard his voice again. “I am damn sure it’s the right number, missy. Who the hell are you, and how on earth did you get a hold of this phone?”

“My name is none of your concern, and I know for sure that you dialed the wrong number because this phone belongs to my dad, whose name I won’t disclose either.”

It was quiet for what felt like a full minute; I thought the man had hung up. I glanced at the screen. The call was still connected. Maybe I should hang up. But before I could do anything, the man said something that led me to believe that he actually knew my dad after all. Or, to be more accurate, me.

“Shit! It’s the girl!” He went on to spew a bunch of curse words.

There were more voices in the background, but none that I could understand. Then the call ended. As I put the phone on the table, the cogs in my brain started to turn. Three questions needed to be answered: One, the less important of the three, why had my dad chosen an ear-shattering sound as his ringtone? Two, what in Poseidon’s name was that call about? Three, who the heck were Hawke and Lincoln?

After the disturbing phone call it was difficult to go back to focusing on what was proving to be fruitless research. Still, I aimlessly clicked on a number of Nescient websites about Greek mythology that led nowhere in terms of finding any answers. As the laptop battery drained, so did my energy, depleting to zero.

Then a typo in an ad at the bottom of one of the Nescient web pages caught my attention. The ad read:

Click here to get high-speed internet at a faction of the cost!

It should have said fraction, but instead said faction. Was this another cruel joke of the gods, taunting me with the fact that I was never going to find any of the answers I needed?

But right next to that ad was another one; one that sparked a memory:

Want to know more about your family history? Check out our internet archive with over ten million records.

Archive! During my odd encounter in the jail, the woman had mentioned something about taking a file from the archives. Maybe that was where we should be looking.

I reached for my phone to call Adrian.

“I told you, Montgomery, I couldn’t find Caitlin’s card.”

“Have you ever heard of the archives?” I blurted.

His voice changed from slightly impatient to now slightly confused. “What’s that?”

Aware that I couldn’t tell him about the woman from jail, I simply offered, “Oh, I thought maybe the Court would have a place to keep their important files or something. Like an archive maybe?”