Homes were where people let down their guards and invited the monsters in.

Which was why he locked his bedroom door, too, before checking to ensure his windows were locked. He wasn’t worried about -himself—-but he needed to take a hot shower, and he didn’t want the evidence stolen in the interim.

After stripping with quick motions, he left the bathroom door open as he stepped into the shower just long enough to warm up from the inside out. The fire at Anahera’s had done a good job of chasing out the chill, but the damp shirt he’d put back on, while distracted by a moment that shouldn’t have happened, had undone that during the drive here. Stepping out of the shower only a couple of minutes later, he looked out at his bedroom to confirm nothing had been disturbed.

No sign of an intruder.

A fast rubdown to dry himself before he pulled on a pair of faded jeans and a gray sweatshirt, then he took the evidence and a pair of disposable gloves with him into the kitchen. There, he made himself a cup of decaffeinated -coffee—-any more caffeine and he’d probably be wired all night.

Sitting down at his small kitchen table with a notepad, pen, and the mug of coffee on one side, he put on the gloves before emptying the plastic shopping bag. Leaving the watch in its evidence bag for now, he retrieved the tin box and looked at the rusted lock. It definitely needed a key. But Will didn’t have time to waste waiting on a locksmith and he had Matilda’s permission to open it. No court in the world would throw out any evidence he uncovered as a result.

First, however, he found his camera and took photos of everything. A small ruler from the junk drawer acted as a scale marker.

He’d continue to document as he went.

Next, he decided to grab his toolbox and see what he could do with the lock. It didn’t take much to break it. Putting it aside, where he’d eventually place it into an evidence bag, he carefully opened the lid. Then, though he wanted to immediately pick up the book on the top, he grabbed the camera instead and took several photographs of the contents.

Only once he’d documented everything in situ did he pick up the -bronze--colored book he’d seen, the word Journal written in curly gold writing across the front. Someone had also pasted small heart stickers around the edges of the word.

Will ran his thumb over one of the stickers.

It was such a girly thing for a young woman as beautiful and as experienced at handling men as Miriama appeared to be; some part of her, Will realized, was still a girl. Dreaming of hearts and flowers.

Jaw hard, he checked the first page, then the last one in which she’d written something. A glance at the dates confirmed this was Miriama’s most recent journal. It appeared to span a year, beginning about six months after Miriama would’ve turned eighteen. From the amount of pages filled, it was clear she hadn’t journaled every day.

He went back to the first entry. It was a short one:

Hello, new journal. We’re going to have some wonderful adventures together. I feel it in my bones. Love, Miriama.

She hadn’t made another entry for a week. That entry was a chatty one that talked about working in Josie’s café and her application for the internship.

… I know I probably won’t get it. Kyle’s also applying, and everyone loves him. Sometimes I wonder why they can’t see through him. Is it just that beautiful face? Are people really so taken in by looks? Why can’t they see that he manipulates everyone around him? Anyway, I’m going to try. I hope it doesn’t mess everything up.

The next three entries were all about the internship and how difficult it was to get through to the interview stage. After that began a week of entries one after the other.

He gave me a watch today. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned in my entire life. I couldn’t believe it when he opened the box and showed it to -me—-it sparkled in the sunlight, rainbows coming off it. When I stared at him and said, “Are those diamonds?” he just smiled and slipped it onto my wrist.

“Only diamonds for a diamond,” he said in that sweet way he has of talking. “Do you think you’ll be able to wear it?”

Of course I’m going to wear it, but I knew what he was asking. “No one will think it’s real,” I told him. “I’ll tell them I picked it up at a flea market while I was in Christchurch.”

I keep on admiring that watch. It’s so pretty. He makes me feel so pretty, so loved and wanted. I asked him if I could get an engraving on the back of the watch with our initials, but he told me I shouldn’t, that there was too much risk the wrong person would see it. I know he’s right, that I shouldn’t ask for things I can’t have, but I love him so much.

Will made a note of the date of that entry on the notepad. It would make it easier to ask the watchmakers and jewelers to search their sales records if he at least knew the date by which the watch had already been sold.

That done, he read through until he found the next entry of interest.

We had the most amazing day yesterday, spent it all with each other. The only bad thing was that we couldn’t go out because he might’ve been recognized. It’s a big city, but it’s still not such a big city when you compare it to all the other cities in the world.

Even I might’ve seen someone I knew.

He says one day, he’ll take me to faraway places like London and New York and Paris. He says no one will know who we are there, that we can laugh and hold hands on the street and dance under the stars.