Proof of Life: Amber Rock (The Beckett Chronicles Book 1) by Ryan Stark

Author:Ryan Stark [Stark, Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fuldean Press
Published: 2021-08-04T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 39

We watched Rossi bluster through the door, rattling window blinds, stilling the hubbub for a second. Steve picked up the pendant, licked a finger, and rubbed at the image of the snake, bringing a luster to the maroon enamel.

“Where did you say you got this, Beckett?” I sensed she was a little peeved. Another confidence she wasn’t party to.

“From the Spirito del Vento. It was hanging on the locked cabin door handle—on the inside. It was the only tangible evidence that anyone was on board before she sank.”

Steve peered closer. “Do you know what it represents?”

“Back in Sardinia, when I couldn’t sleep, I looked it up on the internet. I think it’s the rainbow serpent, an Australian symbol, but other than that…”

“Akurra. What is that? A place?” She ran her finger across the word etched on the surface.

I shrugged. “I think it’s the name of the snake. The pendant is probably a keepsake, left behind in their hurry to leave the sinking boat.”

But that wasn’t what I believed. I was sure they had left it there for me—just me—to find.

“Do you trust Professor Rossi?”

I was asking myself the same thing. “What do you think?”

“About as far as I could throw him,” she snorted.

I raised my eyebrows. “They have laws against geriatric abuse in the US.” But I understood. He was obviously being evasive, but at the same time, fishing, trying to find out what we knew. Understandably, he was nervous. Over the years, he too had witnessed the deaths of a long string of industry colleagues, of close friends even. Perhaps he assumed, in old age, he’d shaken off Amber Rock. That until we turned up, they had forgotten him.

“I guess we have to trust him. We have nothing else.”

Steve puffed deeply and laid out the pendant. “It could be a trap.”

“We don’t have a choice. You saw his reaction. He knew something. We have to keep close, watch each other’s back.”

She reached over and picked up the napkin.

“Venice?” Her voice raised an octave, and her eyes widened, somewhat bemused. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. We are only thirty miles away.” The handwriting was scrappy, the ink slightly leached on the napkin, but there was no mistaking the location Rossi had chosen for our assignation later.

“I’ve never been to Venice,” Steve remarked.

“We’d better make a move then.”

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