Page 174 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

“We can wait,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “I want to know.”

Wes studies her expression before reaching for the folder.

The first report tracks Mercer Transport’s festival contracts. Three Heritage Hall pickups. One delivery to Old Cypress Refrigeration. Two after-hours movements listed as preservation overflow. The dates match the sealed museum transfer and the night Rusk used the temporary shed code.

“Sullivan moved the load,” Scarlet says.

Wes taps the heading. “His company did. It doesn’t prove he knew what was inside.”

The next report shows a payment from Mercer Transport to a maintenance subcontractor three days before the theft. That account produced cash withdrawals matching the amounts Rusk admitted receiving.

I slide my hand over hers. “This is strong evidence,” I say. “Sullivan didn’t pay Rusk directly, but the money passed through a company he controlled.”

“So Sullivan likely arranged the courier work,” Scarlet says.

“Likely,” Wes agrees.

The access report comes next. The same shared festival-services account approved the archive request, moved the sealed museum container, and generated Rusk’s shed codes. Nine people had legitimate access during the relevant periods.

Sullivan Mercer is one because of his festival contract. The museum director, Myrtle Vane, preservation volunteers, and a coordinator fill the rest of the list.

Scarlet stares at the names.

Wes’s hand closes around her ankle beneath the blanket.

“I have history with most of these people. They weren’t kind, but they were never cruel.”

The pain in her scent has little to do with suspicion. Learning that someone has watched her for years is not the same as learning they may have been studying where to hurt her.

Tom places one more page on the table.

It is a local obituary from a few years ago, for Myrtle’s sister, Lenora Vane. The brief article mentions a long bond decline after Lenora’s alpha died. Lenora refused formal release rites and spent her final year in and out of treatment while Myrtle managed her care.

Another line catches my attention. Lenora’s alpha was Sullivan Mercer’s brother. Sullivan is listed among the family members who helped Myrtle manage Lenora’s expenses and care.

Scarlet reads the obituary twice.

Wes lets out a low breath. “This certainly gives Myrtle a reason to care about bond loss.”

“It gives her grief,” Scarlet replied. “That isn’t the same as motive.”

“No,” I say. “But it may explain why she could be involved.”

I lay the annex photographs beside the obituary and the underlined protection passage. I study them alongside the other evidence we’ve gathered today. There are the treated charms, notes recording temporary relief, and the missing release instructions.

Scarlet watches me arrange them.

“Lenora lost her alpha,” I say. “Myrtle lost her sister by degrees afterward, and Sullivan lost his brother before that. They both watched what a broken bond did to the same family.”

Wes looks at the annex photographs. “Then GatorX comes along and gives people a few hours without the pain.”

Scarlet understands first. “Myrtle thinks she found what Lenora needed.”

“Relief without giving up the bond,” I say.

Scarlet looks at the handwritten note. Relief before failure. “But recognition starts breaking instead.”