Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“No one is saying you can’t,” Mom says. “But just on the off chance—”
“No.”
“Ava…” Mom sighs. “You know what your father’s going to say.”
“Which is why we’re not going to tell him,” I say.
“I don’t keep secrets from your father, Ava,” Mom says. “You know that.”
“I’m asking you to keep this in confidence,” I say. “At least for now, Mom.”
“But he may have some insight into this.”
“Dad’s not a detective.”
“No, but he’s a Steel. The Steels have been watching their own backs for decades.”
“Why not let your dad in?” Brendan asks. “My dad’s in on this.”
“The message came to your dad—to you and your dad.”
“The message came to the Murphys,” he says.
“Right. My message did not come to the Steels. It came to me. Ava Steel.”
“Fine,” Mom finally relents. “We’ll keep this to ourselves for now, but I’m going to need to do some thinking. It may be a puzzle, or a riddle.”
“I drew cards for it.”
“Did you get any guidance?”
Mom doesn’t believe in the tarot, but she understands that I do, and she respects it. I’ve always loved her for that. Some of my cousins used to give me crap about it, but most of them have come around, usually after I asked them to sit for a reading, and they appreciated—even if they didn’t believe—my interpretation.
“The biggest feeling I got is that it has something to do with family. Some kind of change in my family dynamic or some kind of new knowledge.”
“Hmm.” Mom cocks her head. “Then I’m going to suggest again that we talk to your father. He knows this family as well as anyone.”
“But there’s also your side of the family, Mom.”
“My mother and father are both dead and buried,” she says. “I don’t have any siblings. You know all this.”
“So you think it has to do with the Steel side of the family.”
“Most likely. If it has to do with the family at all.”
I resist the urge to argue because my mother is ultimately right. My interpretation of the cards does not mean it’s the truth. I can only offer guidance based on my own intuition.
In fact, this could have nothing to do with family at all.
“What about numerology?” Brendan says.
I nearly drop my jaw to the table. “You believe in numerology?”
“I didn’t say that. It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters is what whoever sent this believes.”
“There aren’t any numbers in it,” Mom says.
“That doesn’t matter,” I say. “Letters can still be interpreted using numerology. Each letter has a number assigned.”
“I had a feeling you’d know about numerology.” Brendan smiles.
“It’s not a discipline I practice,” I say, “but I know of it. For example, I can’t tell you which numbers each of these letters correspond to. I would have to look it up.”
“It might be worth looking up,” Brendan says.
“Sure, I can do that.”
“My best guess,” Mom says, “based on what I know from my years as a detective, is that it’s a code of some sort. Each letter represents another letter. There are computer programs we could use to crack it. That’s what I would do first.”
“Let’s do it, then,” Brendan says.
“I can get on that right away.” Mom holds up the copy of Brendan’s email. “May I keep this?”
“Sure,” he replies. “I have a couple more copies.”
“Thanks.” She folds the paper, tucks it in her purse, and then rises. “The apps are on my computer at home.”
“Is there anything else you think may be of significance?” I ask.
“Only the number the text came from, and the email address.”
“Brock already checked the number for me. It’s untraceable. Probably came from a burner.”
“Same for the email address in my case,” Brendan says. “When we tried to reply, everything bounced back.”
“Okay,” Mom says. “Whoever’s sending these messages doesn’t want to be recognized. Or found. At least not yet.”
“What do you mean not yet?” I ask.
“The messages were sent for a reason,” she says, “and at this point, I think we can assume that they were sent by the same person. Or at least on behalf of the same person.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What I’m saying is, whoever sent these messages will most likely reveal him or herself. Otherwise, why would they send them? What would be the point?”
I rise and begin gathering the empty sandwich plates. “Well, they could send it because it’s something they think we should know.”
“If that were the case,” Mom says, “why send it in code? If someone were just trying to give you information they thought you needed, they would just give it to you.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Someone is setting us up to solve a mystery,” Brendan says.
“I’m not sure it’s a mystery,” Mom says. “Because again, if that were the case, someone would just give you the information. This is a game.”
“What do you mean by game?” he asks.
“I mean whoever’s sending these messages has decided that the two of you—and perhaps your father too, Brendan—are going to be players in a game in which someone is hoping to engage you. And while I understand your curiosity, and I do think you should try to figure out who sent this and what it means, please be cautious.”