Page 155 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

I open the museum’s return record. “The container went back into storage as part of a bulk return. No one signature confirms anyone actually opened it to check what was inside.”

Scarlet cocks her head to the side. “Doesn’t that mean the Love Stone may have been gone before anyone thought to look for it? Do you think they replaced it with a fake?”

“It’s possible.” I scroll to the original transfer request. “Floral supports. Tissue. Archival ribbon. Temporary signage. One sealed museum container, logged in the same list as everything else moving through the festival that week.”

“Hidden in plain supply,” Wes says.

A knock sounds at the front door.

Wes closes the laptop and rises in one movement, shifting Scarlet into my arms before crossing the room.

Tom waits on the porch with Pepper beside him. Beyond them, two news vans idle near the county road.

“The mayor announced Rusk’s arrest,” Tom says. “He called the threat contained.”

Wes’s cedar sharpens. “Without consulting the investigation?”

“He saw the jail intake record. The festival committee already released a statement saying every event continues as scheduled.”

Pepper steps inside, carrying a paper bag fragrant with biscuits and rosemary. “Half the town is celebrating. The other half is deciding whether Scarlet helped catch a criminal or attracted him.”

Scarlet draws the blanket more tightly around herself.

Wes moves between her and the front windows. “Those vans leave.”

“I told them they can’t cross the property line,” Tom says. “They’re waiting for a comment.”

“They’ll keep waiting.”

Pepper sets the bag on the table and crouches beside Scarlet. “Honey locked the bakery office after three committee members tried to recruit her for a public safety photograph.”

Scarlet accepts the biscuit Pepper offers but holds it in her lap.

“The town needs Rusk to be the end,” Tom says. “Hotel cancellations went up after the package at Cypress Kiss Rentals. The mayor thinks the arrest stops the bleeding.”

“And if the person directing him uses that?” Scarlet asks.

No one answers right away.

Pepper glances at Scarlet. “We should let you rest.” She squeezes Scarlet’s hand once. “I’ll leave the biscuits. Eat them before Wes does.”

“Already planning that,” Wes says.

Tom nods toward the laptop. “I’ll request an analyst comparison tonight. Outside eyes, like you asked.”

“Thank you, Tom.”

He pauses at the door. “Get some rest, Scarlet. We’ve got the rest of it.”

The door closes behind them. Quiet settles back over the cottage, broken only by the low hum of the swamp outside the windows.

Wes reopens the laptop. “We need every use of that account compared against the museum logs, the archive requests, the Magnolia deliveries, and the Heritage Hall schedule.”

I open the photograph of Scarlet’s grandmother’s map. The public protection route curves toward the cypress glade. The older brown line leaves it near the post office, passes south of the repair yard, and vanishes where the smaller vellum section was removed.

“The access account can tell us who opened doors,” I say. “The missing vellum might be the only thing that tells us where the route goes after that.”

“Or where the Love Stone was taken to,” Scarlet says and takes a small bite of biscuit.