Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The fourth location sits between two large boulders on this stretch of beach. Dad and I found some of our best driftwood pieces here, including a curved piece shaped like a whale that now hangs in my shop window.
“Different symbol again,” Sid says, studying the map. “A triangle instead of an X or spiral.”
Finn leads us forward, nose to the sand as we reach the marked spot. The tide pulls back, exposing more of the rocky shore.
“Reeves called it ‘the Star of Sebastian,’” I say. “Has to be significant. The ship was carrying items for a cathedral.”
“Or named after Captain Sebastian Mateus,” Sid suggests, setting up the ground-penetrating radar.
We scan the area in a grid pattern. The radar shows something small buried a foot down near the western boulder.
With trowels and brushes, we dig carefully. A small metal object emerges, encrusted with centuries of sediment. About four inches long, impossible to identify under the corrosion.
“Careful,” Sid says. “Improper cleaning could destroy it.”
I photograph from multiple angles before Sid lifts it into a cloth-lined container. Whatever it is, its connection to the Salvador Mundi makes it valuable.
“Next one’s further north, past the lighthouse,” I say, marking the map.
“About what Reeves said,” Sid packs the equipment. “Your father encoding information in the star.”
The idea’s been bothering me since we met the developer. “Dad was good at hiding things. When I was little, he made treasure hunts for my birthdays. Clues hidden in everyday objects.”
“How did you build the star? Anything unusual?”
I close my eyes, seeing it clearly. “Five points, each from different driftwood. Connected at the center with a circular section I hollowed out for blue sea glass. The backing...” My eyes open.
“The backing. I used one flat piece to mount everything, but Dad insisted on a second layer underneath. Said it’d make the star more stable. ”
“A hidden compartment.” Sid’s excitement matches mine. “Between the backing pieces.”
“That’s where he hid whatever Reeves wants. Dad knew I’d never take it apart.”
Finn circles back from the rocks, looking at us.
“We need that star,” I say firmly. “Now more than ever.”
“To find it, we need to know where Reeves keeps it,” Sid says. “His address would be on the card.”
The business card sits on the rock where Reeves left it. I pick it up. “Jonathan Reeves, Director of Acquisitions, Coastal Development Partners, LLC.” Providence address and contact information below.
“Providence is forty minutes away,” I calculate. “We could go now.”
Sid shakes his head. “Can’t just break in and take it back. But we might gather information about their plans for Seacliff Haven.”
“True.” I nod. “And we still have more locations to check.”
We continue our beach exploration, heading for the fifth site. The map shows it beyond the lighthouse, in an area only accessible at low tide. The timing works.
The walk takes twenty minutes. Finn ranges ahead, circling back occasionally. The beach grows rockier, tidepools reflecting the cloudy sky.
“Been thinking about your star,” Sid says, navigating around a large tidepool. “If your father found proof of the Salvador Mundi, what form would it take?”
“Coordinates, maybe. Or photographs of artifacts that’d identify the ship.”
“Either would be valuable,” Sid agrees. “And bad for developers wanting to build on the site.”
The fifth location’s hard to pinpoint. The reference points blur in this remote section. After debate, we settle on a spot where large rocks form a rough circle, matching the map.
“This feels right,” I decide. “Dad brought me here after a big storm once. Said the ocean gives up its secrets during times of change.”
We use the radar again. Nothing underground. Disappointment starts to settle, then Finn barks, focused on a narrow crevice between the largest rocks.
“What is it, boy?” I peer into the shadowy space.
Finn paws at the opening, too large to fit inside but clearly interested. I pull a flashlight from my pack.
“Something there,” I confirm, seeing metal glint. Too narrow for my arm, but Sid’s slimmer build works.
“Got it.” He extracts a small box made of tarnished metal.
Six inches square, surface etched with intricate designs obscured by corrosion. A simple latch, fused shut by centuries in the sea.
“Don’t force it,” Sid says. “Needs proper conservation.”
I photograph from all angles, noting the scrollwork. “Portuguese craftsmanship?”
Sid nods. “Sixteenth century design. Could be someone’s personal item from the Salvador Mundi.”
We wrap the box carefully, add it to our collection. The discoveries strengthen my conviction that Dad found the legendary shipwreck, documenting everything before his heart attack.
“Sixth location’s back toward town,” I check the map. “Near the old fishing pier.”
Sid checks his watch. “Almost noon. Christmas Market will be busy. We’ll attract attention.”
He’s right. Two people with a Giant Schnauzer, digging near town during a major event? Obvious.
“Split up,” I suggest. “You research Coastal Development online. I’ll check the location with Finn, stay discreet.”
Sid hesitates. “After Reeves confronted us, I don’t like you going alone.”
His protectiveness surprises me. So does my lack of irritation. “Finn’ll be with me. Public area, lots of people.”
“Let me drive you to the pier at least. Long hike back to the cars.”
I agree. We head back toward the lighthouse parking. The morning’s discoveries have clarified things. The Salvador Mundi seems real, not legend. Dad assembled convincing evidence.
At Sid’s car, practicalities hit me. “We need secure storage for these. My house or your gallery could be vulnerable if Reeves escalates.”
“Small safe at the gallery,” Sid offers. “Not ideal, but better than exposed.”
“My cottage has a basement with a solid lock. Dad installed it.”
We choose my basement. Lower profile than Sid’s gallery. After securing the artifacts, Sid drives me to the old fishing pier at the southern end of the main beach. The town buzzes with Christmas Market activity, colorful booths brightening the gray December day.
“Text when you finish,” Sid says as Finn and I exit. “I’ll pick you up or meet you at your place with whatever I find about Coastal Development.”
Watching Sid drive away creates an unexpected unease. Our partnership, formed so fast under strange circumstances, has become comfortable. Its absence leaves a void.
“Just us for now, buddy,” I tell Finn, who tilts his head.
The pier stretches fifty yards into the water, weathered boards hosting a few fishermen despite the festivities. The sixth location isn’t under the pier but in a small cove beyond it, hidden from the main beach by a curve in the shoreline.
Finn and I take the public path, then walk casually toward the cove. Just a woman exercising her dog, not a treasure hunter with a mysterious map.
The cove appears as we round the bend. Small and sheltered, gentler waves than the main beach. Always popular with families. Today it’s empty, everyone drawn to the Christmas Market.
The map marks a spot near a rock formation shaped like a turtle shell. Another unique symbol: a small key. Given our actual key discovery in the driftwood, this seems significant.
“Another key, maybe?” I ask Finn.
He responds by investigating immediately, nose working the sand. I follow slowly, trying to visualize how Dad saw this place. What did he find here? What connects to the other sites? To the Salvador Mundi?
I’m examining the turtle rock when I almost miss Finn’s excited pawing. By the time I join him, he’s dug a small hole, revealing something pale against darker sand.
“Good boy.” I kneel beside his discovery.
Not metal this time. A fragment of parchment or very old paper, preserved in a sealed glass vial. The vial looks modern, suggesting Dad found the document and protected it.
I extract it with gloved hands. The document inside is fragile, edges crumbling despite protection. Through the glass, faded handwriting in Portuguese or Spanish. Maybe a partial map or diagram.
“Ship’s log,” I murmur. “Or navigator’s notes.”
This could offer written confirmation of the Salvador Mundi off Seacliff Haven’s coast. Dad must have recognized its importance, preserving it before reburying for safekeeping.
I photograph from multiple angles, careful not to expose it to direct sunlight. Finn tenses beside me. A low growl.
I look up. Dawson Morrow stands at the cove entrance, watching with an unreadable expression.
“Thought I’d find you here, Marnie,” he calls, walking toward us. “Still following your father’s treasure map.”
Finn positions himself between us. Not threatening, but protective. I pocket the vial and stand.
“Not just me. You’ve been following it too, based on our encounter yesterday.”
Dawson stops a few yards away, respecting Finn’s warning. “Samuel should never have made that map. Some things are better left alone.”
“Like a historically significant shipwreck that might interfere with development plans?”
Surprise flickers across his weathered face. “So you met Reeves.”
“This morning. He admitted taking my star.”
Dawson sighs, looking every one of his seventy-plus years. “I tried to warn you. Those notes were meant to protect you, not threaten.”
The revelation stuns me. “You left the first note? Not Reeves?”
“I was trying to warn you off before you got too deep.” He rubs his weathered hands together. “Reeves has been watching me—he thinks I’m helping him locate what Samuel found. I’ve been feeding him just enough to stay useful while trying to keep the real discoveries out of his hands.”
“You’re playing both sides.”
“I’m trying to protect what your father died protecting.” His voice cracks slightly. “Samuel and I had our differences, but we both loved this place. When Reeves approached me, I saw a chance to learn what he was really after. I’ve been documenting everything, building a case.”
“A case for whom?”
“The state historical preservation office. And Chief Barnes—off the record, for now.” He glances toward town. “I can’t prove anything yet. Reeves is careful. But if you keep finding what Samuel hid, and I keep tracking Reeves’s movements...”
“We build the case together,” I finish.
Dawson nods slowly. “I know you have no reason to trust me. But I’m asking you to consider it. For Samuel.”
He turns to leave, then pauses. “One more thing. That key you found—Samuel showed me one just like it once. Said it opened his ‘insurance policy.’ I never knew what he meant.”
After he’s gone, I pull out the key, turning it over in my fingers. Insurance policy. Dad was always planning ahead, always protecting what mattered.
Finn and I stay in the cove several more minutes, my mind racing. The vial containing the ancient document feels heavy in my pocket, another piece of Dad’s documentation.
My phone buzzes. Text from Sid: “Found interesting information about Coastal Development. Meeting with a contact who knows more. Will call soon.”
I stare at the message. Dawson’s revelation has shifted everything. He’s not the enemy—he’s been working to stop Reeves all along. But can I trust him completely?
One thing stays clear: I need to recover my driftwood star, not just because of its emotional significance, but for the historical record it safeguards.
The seventh and final location on Dad’s map will have to wait. With the vial tucked away, Finn and I head back toward town. Christmas Market music grows louder. My shop stays closed, my booth empty, but these normal concerns feel distant compared to the historical mystery I’ve stumbled into.
I text Sid that I’m heading home and will meet him there.
The walk home gives me time to organize thoughts. The Salvador Mundi, the Star of Sebastian, Dad’s careful documentation, Reeves and his investors, Dawson’s double game. All circling around my missing driftwood star and whatever secret information it contains.
By the time Finn and I reach my cottage, I’ve decided. I’ll trust Dawson—cautiously—and keep working with Sid. Priority: recover the star and protect Dad’s discovery.
Inside, I secure the vial with our other findings in the basement. Then I remember Dawson’s words about the key. Insurance policy.
I search the basement more thoroughly than I have in three years, moving boxes of old conservation equipment, checking corners I’d ignored. And there, behind a stack of outdated marine surveys, I find it: a small fireproof lockbox I’d somehow missed when clearing out Dad’s things.
The key slides in perfectly.
Inside: a USB drive and a handwritten note.
Marnie—if you’re reading this, you’ve followed the map. The drive contains everything: coordinates, photographs, authentication documents. The Star of Sebastian is real, and it’s hidden where the lighthouse keepers have protected it for a century. Trust Tommy Fields. And trust yourself. Love, Dad.
I stare at the note until the words blur. He’d planned for this. Planned for someone to threaten his discovery. Planned for me to find it.
A car pulls into the driveway. Through the window, Sid’s silver Audi parks beside my truck.
I pocket the USB drive. Time to see how far this partnership can go.
Dad’s legacy extends far beyond the environmental conservation work he was known for. Now it falls to me to ensure that legacy is protected, starting with the recovery of my star and the secrets it contains.