“Good friends worry.” He closed the door once she was seated, then walked around to the driver’s side, getting in behind the wheel. “I have to admit, I thought I might get a pass on being a serial killer since I’m a friend of Blake. They used to date, didn’t they?”
“I . . . sort of didn’t mention his name.”
“Yikes. That bad?”
“Let’s just say she’s relegated him to the category of someone she used to know.”
“Used to know? That’s sort of harsh.” He turned the key and looked over at her. “Bad breakup?”
“She doesn’t talk about it. The only thing she’ll say is that everything with him was about dollar signs. In her opinion, he was . . . a bit shallow.”
“A bit?” He laughed. “He grew up dirt poor, worked hard to get where he is, and wants everyone to know it. Still, he’s got a heart of gold. He’d write you a check for the balance in his bank account if he thought it would help. Being humble? Not his strong suit. Being kind is.”
“What’s your strong suit?”
“Good question. I suppose if you asked Blake, he’d tell you my strong suit is also my greatest weakness. Jumping in headfirst and shooting from the hip.” He backed from the space, then pulled out toward the street. “What about you?”
“If you were to ask Olivia, I’m an expert planner.”
“Ah. Polar opposites.”
“Guess you could say I’m a navigator, always laying out the plans.”
“That must make me the pilot.”
CHAPTER SIX
The day was beautiful, sunny and warm, and the two-hour drive along the coast to La Jolla passed too quickly. Saturday was gone and soon Sunday evening was all that was left. Sam suggested a walk on the beach before the drive home.
The shadows were growing long and Remi’s internal clock was telling her it was time for them to leave. But Sam seemed determined to reach a certain spot on the beach.
“Don’t you think it’s time to head back?”
“In a little bit. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
As they strolled hand in hand, the sunlight shimmered, its deep orange hues contrasting against the beauty of the blues and purples of the Pacific Ocean.
She sighed. “It really is beautiful.”
“I know,” he said.
But he wasn’t looking at the sunset. He was looking at her and the way the offshore breeze played at her hair. He’d pictured her like this, almost at this very spot.
Apparently, she noticed his attention. “We’re not looking at the sunset, are we?”
“Not the sunset. That.” He pointed to the bluffs, where the setting sun turned the folds of earth jutting from the ocean a warm gold. Seagulls flew overhead, then disappeared to the north. “That’s where we’re going to build our home.”
Remi stilled.
“You own that?”
“Yes. Even a pilot can have plans.”
For a few moments, she let herself imagine that life was that easy. Buy a piece of land, and everything would simply fall into place. But she knew it was not the way life worked. Now she understood. Buy a cliff top, eat peanut butter.
The walk back to the hotel was quiet. Remi could feel a sense of calm in Sam. She was certain he could feel a sense of disquiet in her. Perhaps he wanted to test the waters. Almost to the hotel he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward him. The kiss was natural, warm and meaningful. And neither felt the need to let go. Then just as suddenly, reality returned and it was time to get into the Jeep and head back.
Sam cranked the engine over. Nothing happened. He tried several more times before opening the hood.
It was after dark when they’d managed to find a local mechanic, who confirmed the extent of the problem. “Sorry,” the man said, wiping his hands on a rag. “No one’s going anywhere until the alternator gets replaced. And that won’t happen until tomorrow afternoon.”
Remi watched them working, her unease growing as time ticked away. They were at least two hours from Long Beach, but it was getting later and later. “Maybe we can rent a car?” she asked.
“You could,” the mechanic said. “If you can find someplace that’s open this late on a Sunday.” He tossed the rag into his toolbox, then slammed the hood shut. Noticing the worry in Remi’s eyes, he said, “You don’t have somewhere you have to be, do you?”
“Just an early-morning flight.”
“Can’t help you there.” He looked at Sam. “Want me to order the part? Or do you want to wait for a tow truck?”
“Order the part.”
Before she had a chance to voice her concern, Sam was on the phone, explaining the situation to whoever was on the other end. “Nothing to worry about,” he told her.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Trust me?”
“When I’m on my way to the airport, then yes.”
He gave a nod, finished his call, then settled up with the mechanic.
Less than an hour later, the sound of rotor blades from an airborne helicopter grew louder. Sam looked up. “I think your ride’s here.”
“You hired a helicopter?” But it wasn’t just any helicopter, it was a big, no, a very big, double-rotor Marine helicopter.
“Not exactly. I called a buddy of mine. He owes me a favor.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in Long Beach. They caught a cab, and ten minutes later, they were at her apartment. Sam unloaded her suitcase, then walked her to her apartment.
Their goodbye kiss was cut short when Olivia opened the door. “About time,” she said. “You were supposed to be home hours ago.”
Sam smiled at Olivia as she stepped out and rolled Remi’s suitcase inside. Turning back to Remi, he kissed her once more. “Have a safe trip.”
“I will,” she said. “And good luck with your investor meeting.”
“Thanks,” he said, and headed down the stairs. When he got to the bottom, he looked up at her. “I’ll be pining away until you get back.”
She stopped to look back at him. “You don’t strike me as the pining type.”
“I’ve never had anything to pine over before now.”
Remi laughed. “See you in three weeks, Sam Fargo.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fourni Korseon, Greece
Three days later . . .
Adrian Kyril moved to the mouth of the near-vertical cavern, looking down as Fayez lowered himself into the dark depths, the glow of his headlamp disappearing from view. “You’re sure this is the right cave?” Adrian asked Tassos Gianakos, the resident expert on pirate lore.
The gray-haired man nodded. “I don’t know of any other cave on the island that fits the description you gave me. Votzos. Straight down. With bones.”
The cave wasn’t exactly what Adrian had read about, but it was the closest that he’d found. And he’d spent a veritable fortune searching for it in hopes that it contained the legendary Sardi treasure, stolen from Cyrus the Great.
After years of meticulous research, most of which turned out to be false leads, this possible location was discovered by accident. An overheard conversation between two archeologists about an inscription found in a cave attributed to a man who’d hidden there to escape hanging for piracy. That discovery had led to an obscure reference in another book about another cave that led them to Fourni and eventually to Tassos.
Unfortunately, Fourni was a very small island with a little over a thousand inhabitants. While Adrian had gone to great pains to make sure his name wasn’t associated with this search, he worried constantly about word getting out. “Who else knows about Poseidon’s Trident?”
Tassos drew his gaze from the cave and looked over at him. “On Fourni? Everyone. Some of the islanders claim to be related to the very pirates who hid the treasure.”
Eventually,
Fayez emerged. As he pulled himself over the top, the loose limestone rock crumbled beneath his weight, showering down into the cavern below. “There are definitely bones in there. I took photos if you want to see them.”
The news of the bones was encouraging. That, at least, fit with the history. Adrian glanced at Tassos. “You’ve certainly earned your money.” Again, he asked, “You haven’t told anyone about my interest here, have you?”
He shook his head. “No. I made a promise.”
Adrian moved next to the old man, clasping his thin shoulder. “Good,” he said, then shoved.
Tassos tumbled into the opening. His scream echoed as he fell.
“Adrian . . .” Ilya, one of Adrian’s oldest and most trusted friends—and in charge of his security team—stood a few feet away, looking through a set of binoculars.
“What is it?”
“At the top of the hill, over there.” He pointed to the northwest, then handed Adrian his binoculars. “Two people just walked up. One is taking pictures with a telephoto lens.”
Adrian focused, seeing a red-haired woman with a camera talking to a man standing next to her. “What are the chances her lens could capture anything here?”
“Hard to say without actually seeing it. It looks big enough.”
Adrian returned the field glasses to Ilya. “Make sure it didn’t. We don’t need any more witnesses.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A flock of gray-and-black hooded crows swooped from below, then arced skyward. Remi lifted her camera—heavy from the telephoto lens borrowed from the archeological society—to capture their flight, then realized there were three people standing on the hill below them. No doubt that’s what sent the birds flying, she thought, pressing the shutter as the flock twisted into a magnificent pattern against the blue sky.
Instead of the familiar click, nothing happened.
“Did you get the shot of the murder?” Dimitris, a young man in his twenties with an affable smile, olive complexion, and a head of dark hair, stood next to her, staring up at the sky, his hand covering his eyes against the bright sun.
“Murder?”
“Yes, that’s what a group of crows is called. You can thank Homer for the name.”
“Wow.” Remi shook her head. “I’ve heard of a flock, a skein, even a parliament of owls. Never . . .” She looked at the screen on the back of the camera, dismayed to see a MEMORY FULL notification. “Darn it. No.”
“There’ll be others. Fourni is full of beauty.”
Pulling out the memory card, she stuffed it in her pocket, then took out a new card, inserting it into the slot. “Just my luck. Probably could’ve won a National Geographic photo contest with that shot.”
“But you know what you saw.” He tapped his temple, smiling as she took more photos of the sea that shimmered in hues of light to dark turquoise in the early-morning sun.
“You’re right. It was worth the hike up.” The vista, overlooking the Aegean, was—to use a clichéd phrase—picture postcard perfect. To the right, she could see the small village of Chrysomilia. To the left, a partial view of the main village of Fourni, its classic white houses trimmed in blue, terraced on the hills overlooking the port. “The view is amazing.”
“The best in all of Fourni. My friend Denéa always says gods and grapes have the best view.” He pointed. “You can see the island of Thimena over there, and on the other side, Samos, where you took the ferry to get here. When it’s very clear, you can even see Turkey.”
They continued hiking up the steep hill, then stopped in front of a sheer rock face. Dimitris pointed out a carving. It looked like a wreath or a sun about a foot in diameter. Beneath it was an inscription.
“Do you know what it says?” Remi asked.
“I don’t think anyone knows. It’s centuries old.”
Remi took pictures from every angle. Finally, she looked back to where the birds had flown from and saw three men standing there. She distinctly remembered seeing four men and wondered where the other had gone.
After several minutes, Dimitris looked at his watch. “We should get going. I need to drop something off at the post office before we head out.”
They picked their way along a worn goat path of exposed stone that created natural steps down the steep hillside. The melodic tinkling of goat bells carried across in the wind, the animals hidden behind the dense brush of junipers growing in the area. Eventually, they reached the dirt road where Dimitris had left his scooter. Remi slung her tote over her shoulder, then climbed on behind him, holding tight as he drove up to the gate, a trail of dust kicking up behind them, until they reached the paved serpentine road that led back to Fourni.
They parked near the port, then walked along the dock to the Asteri, a twenty-three-meter shallow draft survey boat, where Dimitris had left his satchel. It was only a short stroll from there to the post office, so Remi decided to leave the camera bag on the boat. From the port, the two crossed the street to the narrow, gray-flagstone street, surrounded on both sides with shops, some still closed at the early hour. Many of the shopkeepers sat in chairs out front, some watching over young children running up and down the street, others chatting with their neighbors or simply enjoying the warmth of the sun.
At the post office, a young woman with deep brown hair worn in loose curls about her shoulders looked up as they entered. The moment she saw Dimitris, her dark eyes lit up, and a shy smile played at her mouth.
Curious, Remi glanced at Dimitris, who was busy pulling a large manila envelope from his satchel. He glanced at the young woman and seemed to lose his train of thought. “Zoe . . .”
“You want to mail this?” she asked.
He nodded and handed the envelope to her. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”
“Letha’s sick.” She set the envelope on the scale to verify the weight. “Anything else?”
He shook his head, handing her the money.
She stamped the face of the envelope, glanced past him, and saw Remi. “This is your friend from America?”
“Yes,” Dimitris said. “Remi Longstreet, my friend Zoe Gianakos.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Remi said, shaking her hand.
“Welcome to Fourni.” Zoe turned her attention back to Dimitris, her dark eyes looking worried. “You haven’t seen my grandfather, have you?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Just that he’s been acting very secretive these last few days. He took off very early this morning, saying something about a big job that he expected to bring in enough money to buy a new fishing boat.” She glanced at Remi, adding, “He’s known for his tall tales around here. This time it’s about finding Poseidon’s Trident.”
“An old fisherman’s tale,” Dimitris explained to Remi. “Pirates and treasure. A few islanders believe they’re descended from the pirates who stole it.”
“My grandfather included.” Zoe gave a troubled sigh. “I really thought he was over all that. Disappearing for days at a time, searching . . .”
Dimitris took the receipt she handed him. “He’ll be fine. The island’s not that big. He always comes back.”
She nodded, then smiled as she looked at Remi. “I hope you enjoy your visit here.”
“Thank you. So far, I’m enjoying it very much.”
Dimitris started for the door, then looked back at Zoe. “We’re going to Skavos’s for coffee before heading out. Would you like something?”
“No, thank you. Do me a favor, though? Ask if anyone knows what my grandfather is up to?”
“I will.”
As they left the post office Remi asked, “Have you known Zoe long?”
“All my life. She was my childhood sweetheart. Still is,” he said, blushing. “I mean, my girl.”
They walked down to Skavos’s café. Centrally located on the main street with a pa
rtial view of the port, the shade-dappled patio was filled with small tables and colorful ladder-back chairs. They ordered two Greek coffees inside at the bar, then sat outside. When Skavos, the owner, brought the coffee, he placed two demitasse cups on the table. Dimitris took the moment to ask about Zoe’s grandfather.
The tall man regarded him for a moment, then stared down into the rich foam at the top of the briki. He slowly poured the coffee into each cup, making sure the grounds remained in the pot. Looking back at Dimitris, he shrugged. “Who’s to say where Tassos goes? Zoe worries, he always comes back.” Remi noted it was said with affection, and he assured Dimitris that he’d keep an eye out.
A half hour later they were boarding the Asteri when Remi noticed the camera bag, which she’d left hung over the seat back, had fallen to the deck. The moment she picked it up, she realized it was far too light. She looked inside and her heart sank. “The camera. It’s gone.”
CHAPTER NINE
Dimitris glanced over as Remi held up the empty bag. “This is Fourni. I can’t believe this,” he said. “Nothing ever happens here.”
“Well, it certainly seems to this time.”
He grinned, trying to cheer her. “Maybe it was the murder of crows. Revenge for missing the award-winning shot.”
After making a police report—the officer commenting on how rare theft was on the island—the two motored out to the shipwreck. Remi tried to put the stolen camera from her mind.
Dimitris, however, didn’t seem too concerned. “It’ll turn up. You heard the officer. I assure you, he was telling the truth. Crime out here is almost unheard of. Maybe in tourist season, and even then it’s almost unheard of.”
“I’ll replace the lens. I’m so sorry. I should never have left the bag out in the open.”
“You worry too much. Enjoy the sun.”
They were nearly to the site when Remi heard her sat phone ringing in her backpack. She recognized the number. “Hello . . . !”
“Remi? It’s Sam. I wanted to make sure you arrived safely. And are in good hands.”
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