ONE MORE CLUE

Wow, thanks to all who reviewed! I understand that most of you were quite upset that Emily died, but as I explained, it is for the sake of this master plot. It had to be her or Patrick, and I'm kind of attatched to Patrick more since I've written him during most of Another Clue (plus I'm using him in this story as well). I promise I didn't mean to upset you, but you'll see it's for the good of the story! Don't hate me! :) Also, great turnout for the prolouge! Now we get down to the main focus of the story here. I really anticipate feedback on this chapter; it's very important that it has been done well. And I will be keeping to a schedule of trying to update every Friday so you at least have an idea of when to look for a new chapter. And I will only be responding to anonymous reviews on the actual story page from now on to save time and space - if you leave a signed review, I'll reply via PM/ review reply button. Thanks again, and read on!

. Anonymous Reviewers .

x) Rednaxela - Thanks! I'm glad to be back writing this beasty piece of fic, haha. Thanks for reviewing!

x) Allie - Yes, again, apologies for Ben's mom. Keep reading, though; you'll enjoy it! Thanks for the review!

x) Emily - I'm glad you get a good vibe just from the beginning, because that's very important. Thanks for reviewing! Glad you liked it!

- Dis/Claimer –

x x x

. Chapter One .

LOCAL ARCHEOLOGIST DISCOVERS ‘LOST COLONY’

By Alice Margettson

Roanoke Island, N.C. –Amongst the mysterious intrigue lost cities and ghost towns bring us and the tourist economy, there is one that has baffled historians and citizens alike for over 400 years right here along North Carolina’s coast – The Lost Colony of Roanoke.

Perhaps one of America’s oldest and captivating mysteries, the Lost Colony of 1590 became famous after Governor John White left for three years in 1587 and returned to find his 113 colonists-

Well that’s just it: he didn’t find them at all. What White intended to be a few months’ venture for supplies was delayed by war with Spain, and he was unable to return to the colony until 1590. When he finally did arrive back in Roanoke, no one was there. It was deserted and ransacked, and all Governor White could find were three letters carved into a tree: C-R-O. The colonists were never found. Since that day over four centuries ago, several plausible theories of the colony’s fate have gained popularity, but none have been proven entirely credible. The colony itself has remained lost to mankind since its abandonment.

Until now.

Yesterday on a cold January afternoon, 40-year-old archeologist/ historian Maddox Whittacre of Roanoke, NC, made a breakthrough discovery at his excavation site along Roanoke’s northeast coast – a perfectly preserved wall of wooden logs bound together approximately 7x8 feet. The discovery was made nearly 22 ft. underground and 40 ft. offshore. After carbon-dating the set of logs, Whittacre is certain that these are from the Lost Colony.

‘The erosion of the beaches and coastline over four hundred years is something most people have overlooked,’ he said. ‘It’s not just right there on the beach; you have to take into accountability all of the elements of nature because this was a colony built from nature. My wall of wooden logs proves that. History proves that.’

Since he was a young boy, Whittacre has been fascinated with the mystery of Roanoke’s Lost Colony and decided to make it his life’s ambition to solve the mystery that makes his hometown famous. After graduating from college at age 28, Whittacre began seeking investors to help him make his dream come true. He told us that he went through about five private investors at first, none of which could really pull through for him.

‘I had a real good thing going with this English guy for about a year,’ Whittacre said. ‘I had the excavation plans, he had the money, and we had a good partnership. He had to drop my project for another one unfortunately, but everything’s worked out in the end.’

After his struggle with these private investors, Whittacre began saving up money while moving to Wilmington and working as a part-time history professor at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. Then, when his father unexpectedly passed away in October, Whittacre was left with assets totaling over 1,867,000 and moved back home. Needless to say he was ready to finally find this lost colony he had dreamed about since childhood.

‘Not only have I funded my own venture, but now that we’re finding stuff, people are rushing forward with more offers to get in on the action,’ said Whittacre at the excavation site yesterday. ‘It’s really exciting and fun to get everyone together for this. I still have so much to do, and I want the world to witness it.’

Historians have begun to flock to Roanoke Island overnight at the news of the colony’s unveiling including Raymond Barnes, Rand Dotson, and George Bancroft. One person whose story closely parallels and has somewhat inspired Whittacre’s – Benjamin Gates (founder of the Templar treasure in 2004) – will unfortunately not be able to make an appearance. The treasure hunter/ historian is currently heading to Europe with his wife and three children and will not be returning for several weeks.

‘It’s too bad I can’t have him come speak at the festival this weekend, but you know he’s a busy man himself. His discovery of the Templar treasure was huge, and it captivated everyone, especially the students at the college when I was there. We had long discussions on it for about a week straight until I had to get them back on track. And then Oak Island just this past summer! This man never stops… But yeah, I’m kind of along the same lines as him what with the childhood stories and all. It’s really kind of cool to even be compared to him as famous as he’s become.’

While Gates may be better off than Whittacre what with finding thousands of years of world history and all the gold that goes with it, Whittacre says that Roanoke may have a little treasure of its own still to be unearthed.

‘It goes way back to the first Roanoke Colony of 1585 and is so involved,’ he said with enthusiasm. ‘It’s kind of a personal belief because I don’t have concrete evidence to prove what I’m trying to say, but it’s always a possibility in a place like Roanoke. You never know.’

This Friday night, Dr. Whittacre will be speaking at a festival ceremony about his discovery which he is now calling ‘Project Roanoke Revival.’ This nonprofit festival is open to the public, offers free food, fireworks, and a chance to look at other small items recovered from the site with the wooden log wall including a part of a bowl, some primitive rope, a glove, and purple-tinted glass shards. Donations will be accepted at the entrance and exhibit table. The festival starts at 6 P.M. and will end at 11 P.M at the Roanoke Island Festival Park.

Perhaps with this groundbreaking historical discovery, Maddox Whittacre can help us better understand the fate of the Lost Colony of Roanoke – something surely to be treasured itself.

X

Maddox looked above the article at the photograph. He and several men were standing on the deck of his father’s old fishing-boat-turned-exploring-boat as the wooden log wall was being lowered into their hands by a large crane. The sun was angled just to catch the water and the outline of Roanoke in the background nicely, along with his excited face. He looked a young forty with his dark hair under the tan fisherman’s hat, dark blue shirt, cargo shorts, and leather sandals. He was still that thriving kid-at-heart, especially for the press, but now he was getting impatient.

They should have found it by now. Of course it was a very small item, but it had been a month to the day since he found the wall. A snowstorm last week had been an unexpected delay even though it was winter, but still…

He flipped another page in the scrapbook from his desk in the depths of his boat, the swaying of ship lulling him into a state of drowsiness to which he could only dream of falling victim. The clock on the wall wouldn’t allow him a moment’s rest; he had a press conference in half an hour, a meeting with the restoration team after that, and something else he knew he was forgetting. Perhaps dinner with some famous historian or another.

Instead of getting up from his chair to go shave for the interview, Maddox stayed seated, pushing his hand into his short hair as he looked back down at the scrapbook reading various headlines of the many articles it contained.

THE ‘FOUND’ COLONY OF ROANOKE

‘PROJECT ROANOKE REVIVAL’ OFFICIALLY UNDERWAY

WHITTACRE’S TEAM TO RELEASE ‘PROJECT ROANOKE REVIVAL’ DOCUMENTARY BY AUGUST

C-R-O: CATALOGUING ROANKE’S ORIGINS

CITY OF ROANOKE AWARDS WHITTACRE HONARARY CITIZENSHIP

KNOCK KNOCK

Maddox looked up quickly, trying to appear presentable on the spot with a smile.

“Yes?”

The woman in the doorway – his assistant Priscilla – returned the smile as she came forward to his desk. Her black hair was wet, along with the heavy coat and rubber boats she sported. Maddox knew she cleaned up much more nicely.

“I see you’re finally looking at that,” she said, glancing down at the scrapbook.

He leaned back in his chair giving her a level look. “You just gave it to me two days ago. More important things have been happening.” He took a sip of coffee from his thermos. “What did you need?”

“We think we’ve found what you’ve been looking for,” she told him. He set down the thermos with genuine interest and looked up at her as she continued. “Harper and Dominic saw it on radar and want you to have a look. It’s pretty small, kind of matched your description.”

Maddox suddenly found reason to leave his seat. “On radar? Is it far below the surface?”

“Minor drilling,” Priscilla said dismissively as he grabbed his coat and they left his office together. “I think it can be recovered by nightfall or sooner.”

A familiar excitement was building in Maddox as he dashed up the stairs to the deck. “Yeah? That soon?”

Priscilla nodded confidently. His smile grew wider.

“Great. Oh, and I do like the book,” he added quickly. “I love having stuff that dangerously inflates my ego right there on my desk. It’s perfect.”

The two of them shared a short laugh as they entered the cabin. “Glad to be of service,” Priscilla commented jokingly on their way to the radar. Maddox took no time in appearing over the shoulders of Harper and Dominic, both diligently keeping vigils on the radar systems. Maddox clapped his hand on Dominic’s shoulder, making his presence known.

“What do we got here, boys?” he asked, glancing between the four monitors curiously.

Harper, a young man with tufty red hair, sat in a rain jacket to Maddox’s right, pointing to the second monitor. “Something about thirty feet down, half a knot north-northeast,” he said. “Near the place we found that church cross a few days before the snow hit us.”

Maddox smiled at the monitor, a gleam of ambition in his eye. “Finally,” he murmured under his breath excitedly. After a moment of realization, he stood up, pointing at Priscilla. “I have a press conference in twenty minutes.”

“Yes,” she confirmed matter-of-factly.

“What uh, what happens if I move that back an hour or so?”

“Well, it’ll have to be indoors somewhere from the weather, but you’ll make the five o’clock news,” she assured him, looking for something on the desk Harper and Dominic had claimed as their own. She found her clipboard under a can of Mountain Dew that had left a lime green ring on her papers. Angry, she dropped the soda can in Harper’s lap without a care, sending him out of his chair instantly.

“What the hell, Priscilla?” he spat, slapping the drink from his pants with no success. Priscilla narrowed her eyes on him as she turned to Maddox with her clipboard. Harper scorned in her direction and sat back down without a word.

“I don’t exactly want to let on to what I’ve found just yet, but I want them to know I’ve found something,” Maddox stressed. Priscilla threw her hair over one shoulder while glancing at her papers. Harper cringed as the cold water droplets from her hair showered him.

“Log says we’ve also raised up another portion of a possible door and a leather bound book,” Priscilla told Maddox, the lime green ring irritatingly distractive. “We can report those.”

“They’ll work for the time being,” he said. “Get the team ready to bring it up now, and I want it in my hands the moment they have it. I need it recovered at all costs. Dom, make it happen.”

“Gotch’ya,” the heavier-set man in rimless glasses said. He typed something with skilled speed before looking over his shoulder at Maddox and Priscilla. “Do you want diagnostics run on it when we get it?”

“Yes, thoroughly. Get it dated to the day it was made if you can,” Maddox said quickly. “Just get it to me no matter what. How is the tide?” He glanced down at Harper who maximized a new window in his computer screen.

“Tide is still low, but not more than two more hours,” he reported. “Winds are tranquil for the moment, too. I’d say conditions are as good as they’ll get for now – another batch of snow coming tonight.”

Maddox nodded in thought before speaking. “Fine. That’s plenty of time. And if it isn’t, everyone answers to me.” He then looked pointedly at Priscilla. The woman shifted under his gaze somewhat. “Make sure I have it. I’ll come to you if anything goes wrong.”

Priscilla took a deep breath, unable to break eye contact. “Okay,” she said quietly. “No problem.”

“So hey,” – Harper turned around now – “what’s the big deal about keeping this a secret? I mean, so what? It’s just this… little pin thing-“

“It is worth more than your life,” Maddox interjected with a pleasant smile that made Harper uncomfortable. “Now I suggest that you show it more respect than just a ‘little pin thing’ and get it to me in my office by the time I have to go do this statement. Are we clear?”

His hardened tone and stony glare were enough to make Harper and Dominic turn back to the radars, the two exchanging looks silently. Maddox slowly pulled his penetrating stare away from them, once again focusing on his assistant.

“I need one other thing taken care of, and I’ll be ever-grateful for it,” he told her quietly, leading her away from the radar screens and their operators. “Can you arrange a way for me to get to Maryland on Thursday? A plane preferably?”

“Sure,” Priscilla said without hesitation. “What’s the order of business?”

“Well, it’ll just be me going this time,” he explained gently since she had usually gone everywhere with him over the course of the past year. “Personal business that I have to address.”

“No problem,” she assured him. “When do you need to leave?”

“Afternoon sometime is fine,” he said as looked outside at the light freezing rain. “I won’t be gone long. If plans change for some reason, I’ll let you know.”

“All right. I’ll have everything ready for you by tomorrow.”

“Oh! You are a saint.”

“Hardly,” she snickered aside to Maddox’s amusement. “I’m going to call the press now and have them set up a podium for you inside the fire hall or something nearby. Are the rest of your plans today cancelled then?”

“Yes,” he said instantly. “No plans for the week. Tell everyone they’ll have to reschedule.”

She nodded firmly. “Got it.”

Maddox nodded in return, pushing his hands in his coat as he walked away. “I’ll be in my office.”

Priscilla watched him leave with her lips pressed tightly together, a whole mixture of curiosity, intrigue, and confusion swirling about in her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harper and Dominic turn around.

“Do you know why he’s freaking over a sewing needle?” Harper asked.

Priscilla sighed uneasily, still looking off in the direction Maddox had left. “No.”

“I think he’s letting all this fame go to his head,” Dominic said. “He was never like this in high school.” Harper made a face.

“You went to high school with him?”

“Yeah, he was kind of cool then.”

Harper snorted. “He’s a selfish jerk!”

“Yeah,” Dominic admitted sadly. “But back then, he was a cool jerk.”

Priscilla rolled her eyes impatiently, going back over to the radar desk and slamming the clipboard down next to Harper. He cringed. “If there is ever so much as another drop of Mountain Dew on this log again, you’ll be drowning in it.”

“Oh, calm down and keep marching, Boss Lady,” Harper said as she walked away, sitting taller again.

“Get back to work!” she called back.

“Wanna go to dinner Friday?”

“Dude, she’s like ten years older than you-“

“So what?”

Priscilla shouted over them. “Now!”

The young meteorologist looked up hopefully. “Okay, we can go now-“

“Harper!”

“Fine!” he yelled sourly, returning to the monitors. “Too busy fantasizing about you rich boss…”

Dominic shook his head slowly at Harper in disappointment before he continued typing.

“Smooth, man.”

Harper sighed angrily. “I hate this job.”

“I bet you didn’t get this excitement at the Hurricane Center, though-“

“Dom, just… shut up and get the boat ready for launch.”

x x x

The chatter was quite lively for such a somber occasion. Old women in vintage jewelry and men in suits mingled with stout glasses of assorted drinks feeling somewhat uplifted after a good lunch. Amongst them all, Ben stood idly with his own drink, his face close to expressionless in empty space.

Abigail spotted him across the room and frowned. With her refreshed wine in hand, she walked back over to him in the crowd. He seemed a statue as she approached him unnoticed, but Abigail gently took her husband’s hand and visibly saw him breathe deeply at her touch. Ben looked rather surprised, but Abigail smiled reassuringly, tightening her hold on his hand.

“Where’s your dad?” she asked, leaning close to his ear. Ben took another deep breath, bringing his hand to his mouth as he began to look around over the heads of others.

“I, uh… I don’t know,” he admitted quietly with a sound exhale. Ben’s eyes began to dart when he didn’t immediately see his father despite the large amount of people. “We should probably find him, though.”

“Maybe he went over to the room already,” Abigail suggested. She glanced at the formal wristwatch Ben was wearing and tapped it. “It’s almost three.”

Ben looked down at it, pressing his lips together. His head snapped back up in the direction of a set of ornate doors to his left where a man in a tuxedo stood very still. A large golden plaque above the doors read ‘PRIVATE.’ One of these doors was propped open, giving Ben a slight nauseous sensation. He didn’t want to go in there.

He stared at the floor in debate for a moment until he sensed Abigail’s eyes on him, and he met them hazily.

“I’ll wait here for you guys to come out,” she told him. Ben shook his head.

“That’s okay, this’ll take a while.” Abigail went to object, but Ben continued speaking over her. “You can take our car, and I’ll ride home with my dad. It’s been a long day; just go curl up on the couch and I’ll be back in a bit.”

Against her own wishes, Abigail nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I’ll stop by the church and get some of the flowers to bring back with us... Maybe have something little for dinner when you’re done. You haven’t eaten much today.”

Ben shrugged. “Not much of an appetite.”

“Well, you have to eat something,” Abigail murmured, having felt no desire for food herself throughout the day. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Ben kissed her cheek discreetly before she left, giving his hand one last squeeze. He watched her work her way through the guests with a sense of worry, making him crane his neck over everyone to make sure she had really left after taking her coat from the closet. After realizing he was almost on his tiptoes, Ben sighed, regaining his composure. He turned his attention to the PRIVATE room after fidgeting with his tie uneasily and began to walk towards it.

x x x

“’Article IV, Section B.”

Ben took another drink from his second glass of water, his father casting him a concerned glance from his right. Water was like bad alcohol today; it went down rough and did nothing for him. From the head of the table five or so people surrounded, Emily’s attorney continued reading in a loud, clear voice.

“’In additional to the disposition of personal effects as stated above, I, Emily Rose Appleton-Gates give and bequeath the following below−described sums of money or items of personal or real property, as the case may be, to the following beneficiaries.’

“’Beneficiaries name: Benjamin Gates,’” he read aloud. Ben lifted his head with an inkling of curiosity as the attorney acknowledged him with a nod. “’Description of Bequest: Private Swiss Account protected under Riggs National Bank, Number-‘”

The attorney stopped, and Ben leaned forward with an expectant look as he folding his hands on the table.

“Go on,” Ben said.

“I would prefer only you see the number, sir,” the thin bespectacled man said. “It is a high security Swiss Bank Account; its contents must be of great worth and privacy.”

As his mother’s attorney spoke, Ben felt a little life come back to him, intrigue working the wheels in his mind. He nodded, still looking from the will to Mr. Gilpin earnestly. He didn’t even know his mother had owned a Swiss bank account, amongst other things.

“May I have the number when we are finished?” Ben asked.

“Yes, but certain restrictions are currently in effect.”

Patrick sat taller in his son’s defense, somewhat confused. “Restrictions? He inherited it, didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, but you must take into consideration the time needed to transfer this information so that he may access the account,” Mr. Gilpin told them. “If he were accessing this account directly from the Swiss Bank, he could automatically take advantage of its contents. But, because it has a third party bank handling the transactions, it will take up to thirty days for the information to be switched from Emily’s name to Ben’s. We will of course take care of any paperwork since this is a matter of inheritance and let you know in a four to six week period of when you can access the account.”

Ben leaned back in the chair and nodded accordingly, but Patrick still looked upset. “I want you to give him everything there is to know about this before we leave,” Patrick said. “Can you do that?”

“Of course,” Mr. Gilpin replied. “We can give him any and all information, but as I said, there will be a short period of time until he can put it to use.”

“That’s fine,” Ben said hoarsely after another large gulp of water. “Just,” – he coughed – “just keeping going.”

Patrick looked over at his son again as the attorney resumed reading the will verbatim. Ben choked out the end of his cough behind his sleeve before reaching for his water again and downing it all at once. Setting the glass down, he went for the pitcher again, but Patrick wordlessly slid it away from him with a stern glare. Ben rolled his eyes.

“You’re cutting me off from water?” he whispered, repositioning himself in his chair.

His father’s reply was sarcastic enough to make Ben smirk.

“I don’t want you to drown yourself.”

x x x

“I just don’t understand why you can’t have it now,” Patrick said as they got out of the car. Ben pushed his face into his coat and scarf to avoid the blustery gray wind and flurries evening had brought, quickly heading up the driveway for the house as his father continued to grow on his tired patience.

“I mean, your mother left you whatever she did, and they have no right keeping it from you-“

“I can wait a little bit while they change the information, Dad,” Ben said, overriding him when they reached the front step. “We’ve got a few things more important to deal with at the moment. Whatever Mom left me is in a Swiss bank and it isn’t going anywhere, so drop it.”

“Yes, I know! Paperwork and insurance, it needs all the attention!” Patrick half-shouted, opening the front door. Ben rolled his eyes and went to seek refuge from the biting wind, but his father gave him a pointed stare, his hand firmly on the door handle. “Your mother leaving you a bank account I didn’t even know about is important.”

An touch of smugness crept onto Ben’s face. “Are you jealous, Dad?”

Patrick gave him incredulously offended look, too cheesy to mean anything than what Ben suspected. “Jealous?! I am concerned!” his father insisted as they went inside. “You deserve to know what’s in that bank no matter what legal matters are at hand!”

“We’ll find out soon…” Ben said dismissively, still grinning as he went into the living room to find Abigail asleep on the couch with the television on. Patrick followed after him, trying to smooth over his intentions regarding the account.

“You’re not even going to open the envelope to find out what’s inside?”

“No.”

“Well why not?”

“Dad, it’s fine.”

“Ben-“

“It’s – fine,” Ben stressed quietly, adjusting the blanket Abigail had wrapped around herself. “I’m as curious as you are to know what great wealth Mom has stashed away in a foreign safe. She probably did it ages ago so I would be taken care of if something happened to her. I’m just not in the mood to really care at the moment. We’re all tired and spent, so please: leave it alone.”

With that, Ben sank into the armchair and exhaled soundly, tossing the unopened envelope of information on the stand beside him carelessly. His father muttered something about changing before they decided on dinner and headed upstairs. Ben stared at the television lifelessly as his dad’s golden retriever, Quincy (or Champ, as he was more commonly referred to by his children), came into the room and silently sat beside the armchair. Ben scratched behind the dog’s ear and turned up the volume on the television slightly, the headline on the bottom reading ‘PROJECT ROANOKE REVIVAL: DAY 30.”

“-where Whittacre has had substantial success in recovering several Lost items already,” the anchor reported over footage from Maddox’s boat. “His representative has shared with us a list of retrieved articles from today’s work, but here to tell us all about the progress is Mr. Whittacre himself, live from the Roanoke Fire Hall.”

The footage shifted to a podium against a white brick background. Maddox stepped up to the microphone in a white and red polo shirt and sunglasses, his hair smoothed back from the ocean spray. It was considered his common look with the media – very laidback and casual, having just jumped off his adventurous boat to dazzle the public with his day-to-day tales. He smiled as always, dropping the sunglasses to his shirt as cameras around him snapped avidly.

“Good evening everyone, thanks for stopping by,” he began with a polite nod to acknowledge his audience. “Great news from the boat today! We’ve got us a few more significant artifacts above the surface and several more on the docket to be raised over the next twenty-four hours. Today we returned to the Northeast sector of our search zone and found the remains of a door that I believe to be part of a small church.”

“Why a church, sir?” one of the reporters asked quickly.

“Why a church? Well several items from that region of search have led us to think in that direction,” Maddox explained after scratching the side of his head lightly. “About a week ago there was the large cross if you remember; and the purple tinted glass came from up there, it could very well have been primitive stained glass to that effect; we have two books nearly identical to one another found near each other that might be classified as hymnals? We even got another today that’s still being treated. It is leather bound just like the first two, and we hope to know if it pairs with them by morning- uh, yes? Question?”

A middle-aged woman in the thick of the crowd was called on. “All of the things you are unearthing are amazing, but what we’d like to know is if you have found anything that might possibly give us a clue as to what became of the colony’s fate. Anything that could impact the story of the colony as we know it and change history?”

Maddox grinned widely. “Excellent question!” he exclaimed, earning a laugh from everyone despite his own little secret (nestled safely in his pocket at that very moment). “No, really,” he continued, “we have so much to find and learn and discover that it may be too early for any of that, but that is our mission: to find out what really did happen to this colony and put the theories to rest. We could have a breakthrough at any time. Tomorrow, a year from now… hell, maybe we had one today and I just don’t know it yet!” he laughed again (his subconscious smirking knowingly).

“There’s so much to examine; every little detail saying ‘look at me!’ and I intend to. It’s fascinating stuff, and really, everyone can come to appreciate what we’re doing. Although, just as much as we stand a chance to painting a clearer picture of the Colony’s fate, we could still remain in the shadow of the mystery. Finding these… these masterful artifacts can’t guarantee us a definitive end to the story of Roanoke, but by God we’re trying! I want to know more than anybody – it’s been my life’s dream. Not just to find this missing settlement but better understand and help the people better understand what happened to those colonists in John White’s absence.”

“What’s on the schedule for tomorrow?” a man with a tape recorder asked.

“Well,” Maddox drawled, “We’re going to search the same area for the next couple of days… See what else we can haul up… And then towards the end of the week I’ll be taking a few days to address some private business matters away from the excavation site, but the team will inch their way south-southwest until I ret-“

“Squidward! You can’t eat all those patties at one time! Squidward!”

Riley started from the couch, squinting at the television in confusion. He looked to his left immediately as Charlie hopped up on the couch beside him holding the remote. He stared at the six-year-old blankly as he continued to watch SpongeBob yell at Squidward about Krabby Patties.

“Hey Clyde, I was watching that,” he said, tussling the boy’s brown hair drowsily. Charlie scooted closer to Riley and leaned against him. It had been a while since just the two of them were left to occupy the couch, though. First grade was a hectic year for a kid.

“Avatar is coming on. I want to watch it,” Charlie told him. “We can both watch that, Uncle Riley. The news is boring.”

“I’ll give you that,” Riley muttered with smile.

Then, he and Charlie yawned simultaneously, sinking back into the sofa cushions more. Riley’s head rested on the back of the couch lazily, eyes tempted to close. The last three days had used up almost all of his energy, what with making sure Charlie and Sally got to school, got picked up from school, made it to dance class, made it to a friend’s house, did their homework, double-checked their homework, got to bed on time, and cleaned their rooms. And throwing a seven-month-old infant on top of all that? Riley’s personal time was indefinitely suspended.

At least he and Carolyn could swap battle scar stories at the end of the day. It was a weird sort of comfort, but it was comfort nonetheless that he wasn’t doing it all alone.

He just had to stop letting her catch him smiling at her when she was with Alex. It completely contradicted his argument on how he felt about ‘the baby subject,’ and Carolyn knew he was guilty.

Riley just couldn’t help it. It was, in fact, cute.

Just not cute enough that he wanted all the responsibilities of it yet.

“Heeeey! Scooch over!”

Riley’s head snapped up, and he opened his eyes (when did they shut?) as Sally began to push him hard in the ribs relentlessly to move.

“Ow! Okay, Sally, ow! There.”

The other six-year-old climbed up on the opposite side of Riley, pulling a large blanket with her. Riley helped her distribute it evenly over the three of them before she snuggled up to him and fell silent upon looking up at the television.

“Hey,” – he shook his right leg under Sally to get her attention – “where’s Carolyn and Alex?”

“Alex is asleep upstairs,” Carolyn’s voice came from over Riley’s head, “and I am waiting for you to finish shoveling the sidewalk.”

Riley looked over his shoulder at her quickly, but she merely said, “Ben and Abigail are coming back tomorrow.” Riley groaned audibly as Carolyn groaned back mockingly, messing with the ends of his hair. “Oh, I know... you’re just so tired and can’t move…”

“I am,” he said, stretching a little. “When did they call?”

“They haven’t, but I’m guessing they will before they leave,” Carolyn said, kneeling behind the couch next to Riley’s head. “Abigail said their flight leaves around seven-something in the morning before they left.” Riley nodded, enjoying the sensation of Carolyn’s fingers lightly raking through his hair.

“Eh… I’ll get to it after this episode,” he practically purred. “Promise.”

Carolyn chuckled. “So what were you watching before Nickelodeon?” she asked.

“News… that Whittacre guy from Roanoke...”

“Really? What’s he up to now?” Carolyn then stood, removing her hand from Riley’s head and walking into the kitchen. He looked back at her as she began to clean dinner plates off the bar and discard them in the sink.

“Finding more stuff,” he replied conversationally. “Part of a door, a book… people are still on him about ‘an end to the mystery’ though.”

“Poor man,” Carolyn smiled sympathetically. “He goes and actually finds the colony and it’s not enough.”

“Not for these people anyway. A good way to get his own museum exhibit if anything.”

“You know, I still think I know him from somewhere other than this Roanoke business,” she told Riley for the umpteenth time in a month. “I can’t shake it. Like… well, I’m not sure. It’s hard to explain.”

“Well he’s been in the news before,” he said as she pushed her hair behind her ears to keep it away from the dried out fettuccine alfredo. “From what it sounds he’s not unfamiliar with the whole news thing. He’s just been getting more attention lately.” He gave short laugh. “Go figure.”

Carolyn kept her head down, scraping all of the leftover food onto one plate. “I don’t know, maybe,” she said doubtfully, moving to the sink with the dishes. “I’ve read a lot of different stuff since you found the Templar treasure,” – mostly because it had literally been everywhere – “and he was mentioned here and there a few times.”

“That’s probably it then.”

Carolyn still didn’t feel like a few random articles and pictures explained her odd sense of familiarity, but for now it would suffice. She glanced up at Riley before rinsing the dishes. “Besides, we’ll get to meet him soon as much as they continuously pair his name with Ben’s anymore.” A part of her was somewhat anticipating an audience with him. Not only was she partially smitten by his charming air, but he did have a fascinating story after all.

Riley caught her smiling when she said, “I hope it’s soon.”

He silently sighed, looking back at the television. “Probably when things calm down for us we’ll get together,” Riley said. “Just make sure you rub the stars from your eyes and lay off the perfume, huh?”

“Riley… shut up,” was her guilty response. She bit back the smile and stacked the wet plates. “He may be heroic and dashing with a brilliant smile, but he’s not the one I’m choosing to spend the rest of my life with. You’re worth more than him anyway. Two treasures versus a colony?”

Riley whipped his head around quickly at the comment. Carolyn couldn’t help but to keep laughing. “It was a joke, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he muttered unconvincingly. “If that’s what keeps you here, that’s good enough for me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with anyone,” she assured him, “except you.”

He prided himself on making her smile again, repositioning himself on the couch. “Well Ben’s going to meet him eventually, and you know we’re probably going to get dragged onto whatever TV special they do on it. ‘History Hunters of Our Time’ or something weird like that.”

She chuckled. “Clever title.”

“Thaaaaank yo-“

“Shhh! I can’t hear!”

Riley and Carolyn looked at the interrupting twins, Sally taking the remote from Charlie and turning up the volume loudly to silence her elders. Riley slowly looked back over at Carolyn wide-eyed, and she held in a laugh, loading the plates into the dishwasher.

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