Romi knew where Wally kept the maps he’d found or stolen, she said when I went to her motel. Francis had confessed everything to her in the car on the way there, desperate that she might forgive him.
“He said Wally calls it the vault,” she whispered.
I had barely dared hope that I might be able to convince her to tell me where in Agloe that was—but Romi offered me much more than that.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “You were so mad at Wally for betraying you when he found Francis. But isn’t stealing a map from him the same thing?”
Romi almost smiled. It made her look even more sad than before. “Exactly,” she said.
Morning dawned somberly at the house. Since Francis and Eve had betrayed Romi, it was Romi’s right to choose first whether or not she wanted to remain part of the project. Tam, Daniel, and I took her to Agloe so she could gather up her research until she’d decided, and Francis and Eve stayed home to watch you and keep an eye on Wally.
After we finished taking everything out of the ice cream parlor, I kept Tam and Daniel occupied helping me load the car while Romi took a walk alone—to clear her head and think, we’d decided she should say. They believed her. They had no reason not to.
It seemed to take her a long time to reach the vault. Or perhaps that was just my nerves.
After dropping off Tam and Daniel at the house at dusk, I drove Romi back to the motel. We sat there a long time in the dark in the car, neither of us able to get out.
“I wish there was some way . . . ,” I said, but I knew it could never be. I could never ask Romi to forgive Francis or Eve, so we could all stay together.
She sighed. “I know.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out one of Wally’s maps.
She’d chosen one that was well-preserved but unremarkable, no unique marks or wear, like we’d discussed. One hopefully Wally would not be able to recognize as one he’d already found.
“He had thousands,” she confessed. “Even for Wally, with all his records, there’s no way he’s going to miss only one—or be able to tell.”
I tried to convince myself that my plan was harmless. It wasn’t even really stealing, because Wally would still get his map back, in the end. He cared about that far more than he cared about money.
“Let’s make the call,” she said.
Upstairs in her room, Romi dialed the shop she’d rung the day before, the one whose name she’d found on a note in Francis’s pocket, which had led to the unraveling of his and Wally’s secrets in the first place. Abram’s Books and Stationery.
I pretended to be a customer. I said I’d been cleaning out my garage and came across some old maps, and heard his shop had the best text and art antiques section in the area.
The man wasn’t interested—his shop had just been broken in to, he told me. All his funds were going into repairs. He shrugged off my attempts to set up a meeting until I finally mentioned exactly what map it was that I wanted to sell.
Romi knew he’d already heard of this strange collector called the Cartographers, and what kind of maps they were looking for.
And just how much they would pay for a copy.
“I had a friend take a look, and she said one of these might be worth something,” I continued, feigning ignorance. I described the Agloe map we’d stolen from Wally in detail. “She told me there’s a buyer out there willing to pay good money for it—is it you and your shop?”
The man was so relieved at this stroke of luck, he didn’t consider we might be suspicious. All he could think about was the money.
“That’s right,” he lied, straight to us. “If you’ve got the right edition, it can be worth quite a bit. Thousands, at least. Abram’s Books and Stationery would be glad to help.”