Stitch's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

Finn was loose. He knew Stitch held the pages, and he knew where Stitch kept them. The dried sheets sat in the customs house, pressed and fragile. Stitch understood Finn would double back to burn them. He had to move the proof somewhere safe, and he could not watch his own back alone. He went to the one man on the waterfront who hunted people for a living. Marcus Reeve had retired years ago, but his hands still rested near his holster out of habit. Stitch found him oiling a pistol on a crate. The old bounty hunter did not look up. "I need eyes on a man who means to kill me," Stitch said. Marcus wiped the barrel slow. "Men who mean to kill you are cheap. What's the job?" "Shadow Finn Shakes. The moment he turns back toward the river, warn me." Marcus studied him. "You've got something he wants." "The thing that hangs him," Stitch said. The old man stood. His knees cracked. "Then don't keep it where he thinks it is." Stitch nodded. He already had a plan. He crossed to the customs house and gathered the pressed pages. He sealed them inside a heavy box, its sides dense and lined, built to keep out water and flame. Then he set a trap in their place. On the empty table he left a small brass pocketwatch, timeworn and loved, the kind a man misses for years. He had found it in the mud near the boathouse. It was Finn's. Finn would see it and believe Stitch had only begun to search here. Stitch carried the sealed box through the streets toward the magistrate's courthouse. Stone steps rose tall before him. Once the pages were in official hands, Finn could not burn his way free. Halfway there, a shape fell into step beside him. Marcus, breathing hard. "He turned," Marcus said. "Headed for the customs house. Fast." Stitch's chest tightened. "Let him. There's nothing left but a decoy." "He'll know he's been played," Marcus said. "Then he'll come for me instead of the pages." Stitch climbed the steps two at a time. He pushed through the heavy doors and set the box on the clerk's counter. He opened the lid. The dried sheets lay flat and whole. He pointed to the name along the top edge, and to the sketch of the marked glove on the last page. "This names a killer," Stitch said. "Finn Shakes. I have the glove to match." The clerk called for the magistrate. Men in dark coats gathered. The pages passed from Stitch's hands into theirs. Outside, Marcus caught his arm. "The customs house is burning," he said. "Finn found the watch. He knows the pages are here now. And he knows you walked them through that door." Stitch looked back at the smoke rising over the river. The proof was safe. But Finn had nothing left to lose, and now he had a name to hate.