Part 50 (1/2)
Archer looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile. ”Right. Now, let's pray that Len really wasn't feeling tricky when it came to this point. There's an infinite number of ways he could have mixed and matched open doors to make another combination.”
”He wasn't really left- or right-handed. Not after the accident. He trained himself to do everything with both hands.”
Archer knew that Len had trained himself to be lethally capable with hands, feet, and head long before he had met Hannah. But there was no need to remind her of that unhappy past. It would soon be gone. All the way gone. And Archer would be gone with it.
”Step back out of the shed,” he said.
”But-”
”He could have b.o.o.by-trapped this,” Archer cut in, overriding her objections.
”Then you walk off and I'll open it.”
He gave her a disbelieving look.
She gave it right back.
”All or nothing,” he muttered.
He bent over and pulled two waist-level handles that would have been convenient to Len.
The lockers opened, revealing rows of trays. Empty trays. But Archer already knew about them. Breath held, he stood and listened, listened, listened for the sound of a hidden mechanism releasing. He wasn't worried about a b.o.o.by trap anymore. If there had been one, he wouldn't have had to wait and listen. It would already have happened.
Silence.
He let out a soft, rus.h.i.+ng curse and reached for two more waist-high locker doors. Before his fingers closed around them, he heard a faint sound. Then another.
Click. Click.
”Archer,” Hannah said urgently.
”Yes.”
Click.
Scroaaaope.
Intently he watched the vault. But it was Hannah who spotted the faint line where a panel was trying to open. She jumped forward, stuck her fingers in the gap, and pried. Nothing budged.
”Here,” Archer said, handing her a slender metal bar.
She jammed the bar into the opening and pulled back sharply. More metal sc.r.a.ped on metal. s.h.i.+fting her grip, she yanked again.
A waist-high panel swung open, revealing several long, narrow drawers. There were no locks, no combinations, no handles, nothing but a perforated disk to indicate how the drawers might be opened.
Hannah looked at Archer. ”Now what?”
”This, I hope.”
After a few tries he fitted Len's odd ring to the disk on the middle drawer. The fit was tight enough to make a kind of handle. Gently he pulled back. A shallow drawer opened. Inside, resting on edge, was a long, flat jeweler's case.
Hannah made an odd sound. ”Is it...?”
”Go ahead. Find out.”
With fingers that trembled, Hannah lifted out the box. Very carefully she pried up the lid. Archer watched her face rather than the box itself. Her look of relief, excitement, and wonder told him everything he needed to know. Wordlessly she turned and handed him the Black Trinity.
Silently he examined the gleaming, unearthly beauty of the unstrung necklace lying within the box's deep channels. He had expected the color match to be as good as humanly possible. He hadn't expected to be overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the triple strands. It took his breath away.
Storm and rainbows. Excitement and serenity. Radiant midnight and suspended dawns. Secret dreams and impossible miracles. The Black Trinity had them all.
”No wonder Len expected this to heal him,” Archer said in a low voice.
”If beauty could heal, he would have been whole,” Hannah agreed.
”No.” He closed the box and held it out to her. ”He had beauty. It didn't heal him.”
”What do you mean?”
”You, Hannah. He had you.” Again Archer put the box in her hands. Again she wouldn't take it. ”This is the best of Pearl Cove. Of Len,” he said. ”Take it and leave the rest behind.”
Hannah looked at Archer's eyes and saw all that he hadn't said. She put her hands behind her back, refusing the Black Trinity.
”Take it,” he said. ”It's yours.”
”Half of it is yours.”
”No. You earned this necklace in ways I can't even bear to think about. Take it.”
”Not if it means giving up you. That's what you're saying between the lines, isn't it? I get the Black Trinity and you get out of my life.”
”You can't look at me without seeing Len. I won't do that to you, Hannah. I won't do it to myself. I can't bear seeing you flinch every time I do something that brings back the past. Take the necklace and build a new life. It's the least I can give you after leaving you to the mercy of a man who had none.”
The weariness and acceptance in Archer's voice made Hannah's throat ache around a protest she didn't know how to speak. She hadn't meant to hurt him. She hadn't even believed that it was possible. Yet she had hurt him. She still was hurting him.