Page 25 of Presley's Christmas Catch
Aunt Shannon has left no explanation for how she came to meet Gideon Thornridge and never told me about it. I don’t have any other signed copies. He’s a hermit, or something. The only signing he ever did was before I got into the books. Someone online posted once that it was after the first book came out and someone brought him a copy ofLord of the Ringsto sign, thinking he was somehow J.R.R. Tolkein. Thornridge was so offended—maybe on Tolkein’s behalf—that he refused to do another signing after that. That might not be the real story, but the fact remains that as rare as the collector’s edition is, signed books by Thornridge are even rarer. From what I can tell in the forum, about twenty-five people have signed copies.
And I’m holding one of them.
That’s when I start sobbing. I want more than anything totext Aunt Shannon in all caps WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?!? But I can’t. Because she left this in a box with zero explanation. She’d been gathering things for a while when she died suddenly—a fatal fall, thanks to progressing muscle weakness from the disease. But it was all cut so short. Did she mean to leave a note explaining everything and she didn’t get to it? It’s another instance of feeling short-changed by her death, feeling like we should have had more time to say goodbye.
I lay face down on my bed, crying for a solid twenty minutes. Silver lining:thisis a distraction from not hearing from Brock.
I can text him now about the book. It’ll blow his mind.
I should actually Facetime him so he can see it.
Maybeheneeds a distraction. I’m so antsy, and I’m not even the one with my future to worry about. I pick up my phone to call and then set it back down. I’m in no state to talk to Brock, especially if things are still up in the air for him. Thanks to the sobbing, my emotions are still on edge. I’ll probably start crying again if I call Brock, and that’s the last thing he needs—dealing with my tears when he may want to shed some of his own.
I put the book on my nightstand and continue looking through the box, wary of what it will unleash on me next. I find a few of Aunt Shannon’s favorite books, which isn’t surprising. A couple romcoms—she was a sucker for them—and a literary novel she made me read with her that I despised. None of them are signed.
At the bottom of the box is a black velvet ring case. My eyebrows shoot up. The other jewelry that Aunt Shannon left me were all random pieces she knew would mean something to me: the necklace I got her for Christmas one year, or earrings from a boyfriend who turned out to be the worst and she started wearing them as a joke. I laughed so hard when she wore them to meet one of my boyfriends once. (Funny story, he turned out to be the worst too. That’s probably why she gave me the earrings.)
Something about this box though feels different, so I steel myself.
It still doesn’t prepare me for what I see. I gasp, then squeal, then drop the velvet box and cover my mouth with both hands.
It’s the Christmas ring Mom and I were talking about.
The stolen one.
CHAPTER 10
PRESLEY
There’s no way it’s the real one. Right? But why would my aunt have a replica of this famous, stolen ring. I’ve already looked up the picture on my phone to compare, and they look exactly the same.
But this can’t be the real one.
Yeah, Aunt Shannon was at the party, but she couldn’t have stolen it, right? She and Thomas had joked about it—but could there have been something more?
No.
No.
We were all searched when we left, so how is it possible she had it?
I stare at the ring for a very long time, trying to puzzle it out. I don’t think it can be real, but how can I find out? I can turn the ring in, and they can laugh at me and say it’s a fake. But what if it is real? How do I explain why I have it? I was also at that party.
How do I explain why Aunt Shannon had it?Maybe it was an accident that she ended up with it—like it got lost that night, not stolen. Yeah! She found it and … didn’t turn it in.
I should text Thomas. He would know exactly what to do. Igrab my phone and tap on his picture, which is still listed under favorites. He and Shannon were so close to getting married, that he was already like family to me, the cool, fun uncle I didn’t get to keep. I can’t bear to bump him from this spot for someone else.
I start typing … and then delete the words. Then type again. Then wonder if this is something I should even betextingabout. Should I call him?
So remember how you were joking about stealing that ring? I think Aunt Shannon might have actually done it…
I stop as I’m about to hit the call icon. Thomas is an FBI agent—a law enforcement official. Will he have to turn me in if I tell him? Would it get him in trouble if he doesn’t? I definitely don’t want to put him in that position.
So what do I do?
Mrs. Westcott is searching the neighborhood, convinced someone she knows stole it. I understand how badly she wants her daughter to have this ring when she gets married, but she’s relentless. What will she say about Aunt Shannon if she finds out about this? What will she try to do to my parents or me to punish us for it?
I bury my face in my hands. I definitely can’t turn this in until I have more information. Aunt Shannon is dead. She can’t defend herself.
