Laura attempted a smile as camera flashes popped. She said, “I don’t mind speaking with you, but give me a little time. I need to fix my daughter breakfast. And it wouldn’t hurt if I showered.”

The tall reporter smiled. “Absolutely. We understand and we appreciate your cooperation. We’ll be here, as unobtrusive as possible, when you’re ready.”

Laura nodded, looked over his shoulder and saw two more news trucks arrive. She watched as neighbors drifted onto the street, many dressed in pajamas and robes. “Just give me some time. I will answer your questions best I can.” She closed and locked the door, her heart hammering in her chest.

In the kitchen, she searched for her phone, finding it under one of Paula’s coloring books. Laura scrolled through the menu, searching for Sean O’Brien’s number, her hand trembling. She bit her lower lip and made the call. “Sean, it’s Laura. There are news media — reporters literally standing in my front yard. I counted seven of those big satellite trucks. They’re from all over, the cable networks, too. They want to interview me. They just showed up out of the blue.”

“They’re there because the video is well over a hundred-million views. It’s creating controversy. More importantly, Laura, it’ll generate demand for a thorough investigation into Jack’s death. The state’s attorney will make it a priority.”

“I know…I just didn’t expect to open my door and see all those TV cameras pointed at my face. I’ve never done a news conference.”

“Just answer their questions succinctly. Don’t feel you have to elaborate on anything. Nothing beats absolute, heartfelt sincerity — the truth. The public can sense it or the lack of it. I know this is stressful, but accept that and find courage in results.”

“You make it sound a little easier. What if I make a mistake?”

“You can’t make a mistake because you and Paula are victims, too. Just look the reporters in the eye and answer their questions. But, remember, this is your platform as well. It’s your chance to reach the public. Someone out there may know something that might help police find Jack’s killer. Consider this as an opportunity to do your own public service announcement, okay?”

“I understand. Your voice is calming…I just wish you were here.”

“It’s better that I’m not. You’ll be fine if you remember to look at this as a chance to bring some kind of results. When Jack pulled up that diamond, when you both found the old contract, it opened up a Pandora’s box that’s been sealed for 160 or more years. Now that it’s out, there is someone who wants to contain it, to probably fence the diamond to a private collector. Jack was simply doing what he loved, documenting history. That led him down a new and dangerous path to find a way to honor the letter written by Henry and the terms of the contract, and Jack was in somebody’s way.”

Laura released a pent-up breath. She glanced at her fingernails on one hand, broken and chewed. She felt like a mess, suddenly disheveled, and on display. “Thank you, Sean for caring. Maybe Paula and I can meet you for lunch. Then I can tell you how my first, and hopefully my last, news conference went.”

“You’ll do fine. And lunch sounds good”

“Would noon at the Mainstreet Grill in DeLand work for you?”

“What car will you be driving?”

“A white Honda Accord. Why? I won’t get lost or be late.”

“See you and Paula then.”

Laura disconnected. She walked into the bathroom when her phone rang. She looked at the digital display: UNKNOWN. She answered. “Hello.”

“Laura Jordan…”

“Who is this?”

“Be very careful what you do and say. You say too much to those reporters and it might come back to haunt you and your daughter.” The voice was slightly muffled, just above a whisper.

“Who is this? How’d you get this number? Don’t threaten me!”

“Some things are buried in the past for very good reasons. Best to let a sleeping junkyard dog lie. If not, there are always consequences…always. It’s bad enough your dead husband mentioned the Civil War contract…but until others see it, it’s just him talking. Nothing more. We advise you to keep it that way.”

The call disconnected.

Laura gripped the phone, her hand shaking. She looked up in the bathroom mirror, the reflection of her frightened face like a stranger staring back at her.

Kim Davis was washing a beer mug behind the bar when Dave Collins and Nick Cronus walked in the Tiki Bar. Kim dried her hands and said, “No Sean and no Miss Max. What gives?”

Nick grinned. “Max knows you serve hushpuppies on Wednesday. She stays clear of the Tiki Bar on Wednesdays.”

Kim smiled as Dave nodded and said, “I think Sean’s at his river cabin doing whatever he does in pure solitude.”

“You guys want to sit at the bar or take your favorite table next to the window?”

Dave grinned. “Nick likes the table because it gives him a view of the crosswalk to the beach and the bevy of bikini-clad ladies who park their cars in the lot and walk over to the seashore.”

“Somebody has to keep tabs on tourism.” Nick’s dark eyes danced.

Dave said, “Nick, I need to get a battery charger out of my car. Why don’t you claim the tourism table before the lunch crowd arrives. I’ll take the grouper sandwich and have the coleslaw rather than hushpuppies. In Max’s honor, of course.”

Nick started toward the table. Kim dried her hands on a towel and said, “Nicky, I’m taking a short break. I need to talk to Dave.”

He grinned. “You can always talk to me.”

She smiled and followed Dave out the breezeway into the parking lot, the screeching of seagulls over the marina, a charter boat diesel cranking as a first mate cast lines across the transom.

Dave turned back to Kim and said, “I hope I left my tablet charger in the car. Is everything okay, Kim?”

“No, it’s not okay. I’m not sure what the word okay is supposed to mean anymore. I’ve been following the news and that viral video. What if the man who died was murdered on the movie set? I told Sean that I may have met the guy the day I spent in casting, waiting to audition. I just saw the man’s distraught wife — now his widow, in that news conference on TV. She didn’t pull any punches. She believes her husband was murdered for the diamond. And, all this stuff about a Civil War agreement between the South and England, it’s like a very dark door opened after Sean began hunting for the painting.”

“To further the coincidence, it was the same painting you’d seen months ago in that antique store. A painting bought by the couple we’re talking about, and the husband is now dead. I believed Sean sensed it wasn’t an accident from the onset.”

“I wish that old man had never walked into the restaurant. I worry about Sean.”

“I know you do, Kimberly.”

“He’s always been somewhat mysterious. He won’t discuss the war or most of the things he saw as a homicide detective. But now, especially after he learned about his family — what happened to his mother, his insane brother, and the fact he has a niece he never knew about until recently, it’s somehow changed Sean.”

“Perhaps it’s made him a little more introspective, as it would anyone. He still maintains a sense of humor, but I’ve seen him when he’s had a dark day or two. He usually confines himself to the solitude of his river cabin when that cloud moves over him. Perhaps it’s PTSD. He won’t discuss it.” Dave opened the trunk to his car, searched, and lifted out a small black battery charger. “Eureka! Now I can finish the book I was reading.” A breeze blew through the fronds of the royal palm trees. Dave cut his eyes to Kim and said, “You really care deeply about him, don’t you?”

“Yes. Is it that obvious?”

“May I ask…do you love him?”

She pushed a strand of dark hair behind one ear and smiled. “You get to the point, don’t you? I’ve tried so hard not to, but Sean’s the kind of man who is easy for a woman to love, even as mysterious and unknowable as he can be, he gives to others unconditionally. And he never asks for anything in return. His heart is just as attractive as his face. Because of a trait like that, it sometimes opens the door to bad characteristics in others. When Sean’s helping someone, it’s usually because someone or some thing in society is wronging that person. I think the love he had for his deceased wife was buried with her.”