“Nothing else, though. No other specimens were discovered that belonged to Victoria. No other bone fragments. No portions of her jaw. Just that one tooth.”

Avery smiled and looked back down at the folder.

“Anyway, I just found it interesting.” She held up the notes. “Thanks for the history. I’ll let you get back to your writing. Good luck finishing your manuscript.”

“Thank you,” Natalie said, her voice shaky and hesitant.

“Emma gave me some boxes that contained a bunch of Victoria’s old keepsakes. I found a flash drive that had all of her manuscripts on it. Lost manuscripts stored in an attic for two decades.”

Natalie cocked her head to the side and feigned a smile. “Is that right?”

“Emma told me that Victoria didn’t share her manuscripts with anyone. Not Emma. Not even Jasper. No one, in fact, has ever read them before. So I was a little hesitant to read them myself. It felt like I was intruding on her privacy.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Read any of her manuscripts?”

“Oh, all of them. They’re really good.”

Avery turned and opened the door.

“They remind me a lot of your writing.”

Avery waited for a reply. When none came, she walked out into the hallway and headed for the elevator.

CHAPTER 54 - Manhattan, NY Tuesday, July 6, 2021

CHAPTER 54

Manhattan, NY Tuesday, July 6, 2021

IT WAS JUST PAST 8:00 A.M. ON TUESDAY MORNING WHEN AVERY TOOK the elevator to the lobby, cut across the marble floor, and pushed through the front door. The valet had her Range Rover parked out front with the engine running. Avery climbed in and pulled away. The streets were crowded. Taxis beeped, cyclists darted through traffic as they transported their packages, and a steady stream of pedestrians filled the sidewalks. The long weekend was over and the city had taken back its role as the financial capital of the world. The relaxed and welcoming looks Avery had received on her run through Central Park Sunday morning were replaced by stoic expressions of those on the way to work.

The sun was low and bright when she made it to the George Washington Bridge, and it filled her rearview mirror until she made it into New Jersey and headed north on Palisades Interstate Parkway. Smooth reggae drifted from the car’s speakers and was Avery’s attempt to calm her nerves. On her mind was the postcard she had ripped to shreds months earlier before painstakingly taping it back together. She had somehow managed to misplace it since she arrived in New York, and she took the card’s absence as an omen that what she was planning was about to go wrong.