Welcome back to our final installment of “In Pursuit of the Truth,” a serial novella celebrating the release of When the Curlew Calls by Joanne Markey. If you’ve missed any of the installments, start here and pick up the story, then come back for the exciting conclusion! And be sure to pick up Joanne’s book here!

And now, the conclusion to “In Pursuit of Truth.”

“I demand answers, and I demand them now. My life is in jeopardy, but no one will tell me why.” Though my stomach tightened when I thought of what Candor and I had discovered ten or more years ago now. “What about what we discovered in that warehouse, the one my dad supposedly owned?”

The cabbie lifted an eyebrow. “You already know what this is about.” 

I shrugged, still damp, the mist keeping me so. A chill ran over my skin. “But I don’t.” Pictures, memories flashed through my mind. A glittering, golden room, heavily ornamented with swags and mosaics, double white doors inlayed with gold, all fit for a palace and not an innocuous warehouse in the middle of a city. 

“Ah, I see by the look on your face that you haven’t forgotten what you saw that day.” The cabbie towered overed me, and I stepped back until I was pressed against a brick wall.

The chill deepened. “How, how, how did you know? Candor and I swore that we would never tell a soul.”

“But he wasn’t the only one who knew.”

“My father.” 

“Exactly.”

“What is it that we saw? Candor knows, doesn’t he? Somehow he managed to get the information from my father before he disappeared.”

“You didn’t major in history in college, did you?” The cabbie leaned back just a little, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Finance.” 

“That explains so much.” The cabbie glanced in the direction we had come, and a shadow passed over his face. “What you saw, what you just walked through, is a priceless artifact.”

“Wait, I walked through it?” 

“That large, dark room was more than an empty space. What you and Candor saw years ago and what you walked through was the Amber Room.” 

I leaned over my knees, gasping for breath, whether still from the case or from the cabbie’s admission was hard to say. “I’ve heard of that. It was a priceless artifact from St. Petersburg stolen by the Germans during WWII.” No one had seen or heard of it since 1944, when it had disappeared from Konigsberg during the Allied bombing. Why did I know so much about it?

“Very good. You listened better than I ever thought you did, Alethea.”

Something about the way the cabbie said my name grabbed my attention. The deep rumbling of his voice. I straightened and stared into those piercing blue eyes once more. Blue eyes that I had always wished I had. Another explosion boomed in the distance, and I swayed on my feet.

Strong arms encircled me before I fell to the ground, and I fought away the blackness that threatened to consume me. “Daddy?” 

The cabbie removed his cap and smiled at me. “Yes, pumpkin pie.” 

At the almost-forgotten nickname, tears formed in my eyes. “Why?” Though I had a million more questions, that was the only one I could form.

“I didn’t want to leave you, but I had to for your own safety.”

“Where? How?”

“My father smuggled it from Germany in pieces in the late 1940s. Though his fellow soldiers abandon it, he refused. But the Russians weren’t about to let it go.”

“And that’s who has been after you all this time?” 

He tightened his grip on me, and love and repulsion battled within me. All this time, he had lied to me. And had in his possession an item that didn’t belong to him. “Yes. But they don’t know for sure if I have it.”

“What of Candor?” My heart pounded in my tight chest. “Wait. He figured it out.” 

“And confronted me. I had to bring him in, and now with my health in decline, I’ve allowed him to take it over. But the Russians have been threatening you with harm if I don’t reveal my secret to them.” 

I regained my balance and stepped out of his grasp. “Aren’t I worth more to you that some amber and gold?” Why would he leave me and put me into danger to hold onto a, a thing?

“You don’t understand.” 

“I do. At long last, I do. All this time, the rumors about you were true. You’re heartless and only care about yourself. Nothing—no one—is more important to you than a possession. Well, I have something to tell you. Long ago, after you abandon me and Mom and we had to scrabble for everything we ever had, I learned that I can’t rely on you.” Clomping boots and shouting in an undistinguishable language bore down on us, but I couldn’t stop the flow of words. When Dad reached out to grab me, I fought my way out of his grasp. I wiped the rainwater from my face. 

Another boom startled me, but I paid it little attention. “I don’t need you. I haven’t for a long time. I hope your treasure makes you happy.”

Barely had the words passed my lips, then blackness consumed me. 

***

My eyes itched, and I rubbed them open. I was in my soft pink bedroom, morning sun streaming through the white sheers that waved in the gentle breeze coming through my open window. 

Had I dreamed it all? Had it been nothing more than a nightmare?

With little taste for food, I dressed and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Though tempted to call a cab, I again made the long walk to the glass building, then traced the steps to the alley where Dad had driven me. There were no gates as I had remembered, but there was the large building. 

I tried the knob, and it was open. If Dad and Candor had hidden a priceless treasure inside, one that was so sought after by the Russians who had first possessed it, wouldn’t they at least lock the building?

Ber 

For just a few seconds, I hesitated, then stepped inside, morning sunshine streaming inside from a skylight overhead. 

But the room that was dark last night, that Dad said hid the Amber Room, was empty. My footsteps echoed as I crossed it. 

Had it been nothing more than a dream, much as it had been when Candor and I had first discovered it? How had they managed to get rid of all traces of the Amber Room in mere hours? It was huge, almost the size of my one-bedroom apartment. And the explosions, what of them? Why weren’t there any traces of it?

My head pounded, and I leaned against the wall blinking my eyes a few times. No Amber Room came into view. 

All my life, all the men I knew and loved had lied to me. Candor. Dad. Even Opa. 

Something small and white lay in the middle of the room, and I went and picked up the folded piece of paper. 

I’ve always loved you, and I always will. If only life could have been different. 

I pressed the note from Candor against my heart, turned my back, and left this secret tucked away forever.

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About the Book

Joanne Markey was born and raised in Australia where she spent her spare time divided between exploring the outback with her brothers and sister, and being curled up in a corner with a book in her hand. That love of reading hasn’t diminished over time, and now living in the USA with her husband and seven kids, she still reads anything she can get her hands on.

The only difference now is she writes as often as she can between homeschooling, cooking, chasing kids, and folding laundry, dabbling in multiple genres with a focus on romance.