Hey, it was photos of her!
She grabbed them and started to leaf through them. A photo taken on the beach; she was wearing a one-piece swimsuit, laughing. Somehow she just knew it was Coney Island boardwalk. Another picture snapped at what seemed to be an office. Her office. No, more like a library. Hey, how did she know that was a library? Eva scrutinized the other people in the photos, trying to refresh her memory. Everything was blank. Those people were as much strangers as Liam was.
A frisson of trepidation shot through her.
Why had Liam lied? How did he get her things? He said he found her in the water. Did he know who she was? She tried hard to remember but nothing came to her. He said he’d hired a private investigator because she wasn’t showing up in any system. If she was just a regular Jane Doe, how did he get hold of her personal items? If she was found in the water, she wouldn’t bring photos with her, would she?
Eva snatched the book; it was a diary. She started reading. She recognized the handwriting as hers. Just to make sure, she scoured Liam’s desk for a pen and paper. She scribbled on it and compared it to the diary. No doubt. This was her handwriting. The diary was hers.
Sitting on Liam’s chair, she devoured its contents. There wasn’t much of it. Only three pages long, dated from late May. After she finished, she was filled with a thousand more unanswered questions. Dread seized her by the throat and was ready to shake her like a rag doll. The diary might not tell her much, but it contained some important information. She had just started a new life. She worked in the Arcana Foundation, restoring old documents, and she had a confidante named Ms. Jones.
Did Liam know about the Arcana Foundation? His private investigator could go there and ask who she was.
What about Ms. Jones? Why did this woman give her money? And why did she fear for her safety?
Eva drummed her fingers on the surface of the desk. She could confront Liam when he got back, to see what he had to say.
Or she could find out where the Arcana Foundation was and show up there to see if anybody recognized her.
She really should wait for Liam, but damn it, she was curious.
Curiosity or safety.
Damn.
Curiosity won.
Eva opened Liam’s laptop and powered it on. A password-protected login prompted her. She clicked around and found out she could login as guest. After her access was approved, she opened up a browser and searched for the Arcana Foundation. It was a private library located in downtown Chicago. She got the address and jotted it onto a pad of paper.
Now, there was a problem as to how to get there. She could call a cab, but she didn’t have any cash. Liam could pay it, a part of her suggested. Have the cab pick her up and let the meter run while she went in and made some inquiries. Then, after she finished, the cab could take her home and have Liam pick up the tab. He wouldn’t be pleased she sneaked around like that, but hell, this was her life. She needed to know. Not being able to remember anything was driving her insane.
Sounded like a plan.
Eva researched for a cab company and placed a call. She waited outside, sneaking away from Hades and Rosa. Twenty minutes later, the cab came. Before she left, she had scribbled a note for Liam. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry with her, but finding out her identity was important to her. He should understand.
Chapter Five
Liam had a bad feeling when he pulled into the driveway. Rosa was waiting for him under the portico with Hades on a leash. Her face looked worried. She tapped the window as Liam put the car in park. He rolled it down.
“Ms. Eva has gone,” Rosa said. She didn’t wait until he took off his seat belt. “She called a taxi and went to a place called the Arcana Foundation.”
“What? When?”
“About twenty minutes ago. I tried to call you but you didn’t pick up your phone.”
“I was busy. How did she know about the Arcana Foundation?”
“I read a note she left on your desk.”
“What did it say?”
“That she needed to meet some people where she once worked, then she would go straight home.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Which home? Her apartment?”
“She has an apartment? What else didn’t you tell me, Mr. Caderyn?”
Shit. “I’ll explain later. Did she remember anything?”
“That—I don’t know.”
“I have to go.”
“She didn’t have money with her. How did she pay the taxi?”
“I don’t know. Call Cod and tell him to return to Chicago immediately.”
“All right, sir.”
Liam put the car in gear and back out. He slammed the gas into the street.
A slice of fear went through him, chilling his heart. Eva, what did you remember?
“You’ll wait, right?” Eva asked the cab driver.
“I’ve got to keep the meter running, though.”
“No problem. I need you to take me home. It will only be ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Sure, Miss.”
“Thank you.” Eva got out of the cab. The Arcana Foundation building stood on the corner of a business district complex. Eva slammed the door and walked to the steps to the main entrance. Inside, she took an elevator to the second story. As soon as she got out, the small lobby of Arcana Foundation greeted her. Since she didn’t see any receptionist, she let herself into the main reception area. It was lunch time. Several people breezed in and out of the office. One of them did a double take at her.
“Eva?” the woman asked. She was tall with a dark complexion and her hair was twisted into a tight bun.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing showing up this late? You have Grimoire to restore.” The woman peeled off from her companions and flounced toward her. “Are you okay? You look a little off today.”
“Um, I know it may sound weird, but do I know you?”
“What’s wrong with you? I’m Magda Flores, your supervisor? Hello?”
“Sorry, I do feel under the weather. May I ask you a question? Do you know where I live?”
The woman went speechless for long seconds. “Follow me. Mr. Harrison asked for you earlier.”
Eva tailed her into the maze of cubicles and hallways, into the right wing of the building that apparently housed thousands of old and precious tomes. The temperature was climate-controlled. Everyone she saw in that section was wearing masks and gloves while handling fragile parchments and bibliophiles’ paraphernalia.
Magda Flores took her into the director’s sanctum. The name Herbert Harrison III was written in gold ink and gleamed from a plague mounted on a mahogany door. The office sanctum was as pretentious as Herbert’s name. Gold floral upholstered sofas. Rococo-style furniture. Velvet draperies with gold tassels. Bleh. Eva stalked behind Flores cautiously, trying hard to recall anything that could jog her memory. So far nothing. Nada.