Chapter 7
Seven
The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.
—Jacques Cousteau, ocean explorer
Growing up in the South, Scout wasn’t accustomed to how fast the Atlantic Ocean in Maine rose when the tide swept in.
Down there, the waves came in slow, rhythmic patterns, just gentle laps.
Nothing like Maine’s aggressive, unpredictable surge.
Every few seconds, a wave smashed against the boulders, sending cold salt water splashing against her.
Scout kept tugging at her wrist, trying to break free, but she was in a very awkward position, and the sharp rock edges scraped her skin, each movement only worsening the pain.
She could feel warm blood trickling from the cuts.
Panic gnawed at her, but she tried not to let it take over.
Shivering, she felt as if her heart was beating too fast. There was no time to waste.
She needed help. And fast. And there was no sign of Naki.
Calm, calm, calm. She had to think clearly, had to get out of this situation. One thing she had learned to expect in the great outdoors, don’t expect the cavalry to come. Figure it out, girl.
Radio.
Duh! Just as she reached up to her radio’s shoulder mic and groped to find the emergency distress button, she heard her name over the crash of the waves against the rocks below her.
She twisted her head and blinked through the dimming light.
Naki appeared, moving carefully along the slick, wet boulders.
His flashlight cut through the growing darkness, its beam sharp and focused as it swept across the boulders.
Finally, he reached her and crouched down.
“You came back!” She was so relieved she could’ve melted into a puddle. Not melted. Froze.
His head jerked up. “Of course I did.” He set the flashlight down and pulled out a tub of Vaseline, lifting the lid with quick efficiency. “This should do the trick.”
“Where’d you find that?”
“It was in the jeep. I remembered seeing it and thinking it was an odd thing to keep in a car.” He bent over the edge of the boulder and tried to reach his hand into the crevice but quickly gave up.
“I can’t get close enough to your wrist. You’ll have to use your other hand to rub the Vaseline around your wrist. It’ll ease the friction so you can wiggle free. ”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“What if both arms get stuck?”
“Just trust me.”
Could she? What other choice did she have?
Scout glanced over at Naki one more time, his quiet presence steadying her nerves just enough to give it a try.
She exhaled and nodded, putting her free hand into the tub.
She scooped out a large glob and, with a wince, pushed that hand down into the crevice, trying to coat the slick gel on her wrist with two fingers.
When she pulled that hand out, the Vaseline glistened on her skin.
Naki nodded. “Okay, try easing the other hand out now.”
Scout hesitated a moment because she knew this was going to hurt.
Her wrist was jammed in there and probably swelling.
Naki seemed to read her mind. “Just go slow and steady.” Cautiously, she pulled, and the Vaseline helped ease her wrist from the rock’s tight grip.
Sitting up, she let out a breath of relief.
Her poor wrist and hand! Scratched and bloody and raw.
Kneeling beside her, Naki cupped her wrist to examine it with a gentleness that she found touching. “Nothing broken. Cuts aren’t too deep.” He turned her hand over to check her palm. “You really thought I wouldn’t come back for you?”
Scout looked up. “Well, some might see it as an opportunity. To take the gold and run.”
He met her gaze, unwavering. “I don’t run.”
For a beat, they locked eyes. Something between them felt different. Something had changed. Then a massive wave crashed against the boulder they stood on, sending sprays of salt water over both of them. Scout staggered back, shocked by the sudden cold.
Naki grabbed her to keep her from falling, his arms tightly around her. She looked up at him, into those dark eyes that she could get lost in, and was shocked at how comforted she felt. Like she knew she was safe, that he wouldn’t let any harm come to her.
“Let’s get you to the car.”
She was surprised that she didn’t want him to let her go. “Wait. The gold. Where did it go?”
“It’s in my pocket.” He released her and reached into his pocket, pulling out the brass box, along with her pink hair ribbon. “This belongs to you, I believe.”
“You found it!” She grabbed her wet hair into a ponytail and tied the ribbon around it. “I wish you could’ve saved my favorite ranger hat. It’s halfway to Nova Scotia by now.”
He watched her curiously. “Let’s get to the car before we get washed out to sea.
” He retraced his steps, and she tried to follow, but she couldn’t keep up with the pace of his long legs.
She tripped, and he stopped to help her up, then took hold of her left hand.
They made their way carefully over the slippery boulders, following the beam of the flashlight, toward the jeep.
As cold as Scout was, her hand in Naki’s felt like it was burning.
Ranger Rivers leaned back in his chair, the tarnished gold coins gleaming dully under the office light.
He let one roll between his fingers before setting it on the desk with a soft clink.
He gave a low whistle and shook his head.
“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in this job, but treasure hidden by a tide might top the list.”
Scout, her scratched-up hand resting gingerly on her lap, gave a subtle nod toward Naki. “All credit goes to Mr. Dana. He figured out the clue.”
“Naki will do,” he said quietly.
Tim’s eyes shifted to Naki, who stood near the door, his arms loosely crossed. “While you two were out on the gold hunt, things have been unraveling here.”
Scout tilted her head. “Unravelin’ how?”
Tim began counting off on his fingers. “I got a phone call from the fellow who stole the envelope from Maisie. He came to my office to discuss his terms.”
“Terms?” Scout scoffed a laugh. “Like, a ransom?”
“Well, sort of. He wants exclusive rights to the story. But while he was here in my office, someone broke into his car and stole the envelope.”
Scout blinked. “Wait—someone stole it again?”
Tim snorted. “Apparently. So now Maisie and Frankie are chasing a lead to find who stole the envelope. But one silver lining. Fletcher has read through the papers and studied the clues. The two of you can work with him.”
“Fletcher? Chase Fletcher?”
Surprised by the flat sound in Scout’s voice, Tim glanced at her. “Right. He owns the Bar Harbor Gazette.” He watched her for a moment. “You know him?”
“I do,” Scout said, eyes lowered.
“Any chance,” Naki said, “that Chase Fletcher was on the tour boat today?”
Scout nodded.
Tim’s gaze shifted between the two. “Do either of you recall the name of the lighthouse keeper?”
“Arthur Lipp.” Scout shrugged. “But I don’t know anythin’ more about him. Baker Island history is all about the Gilleys.”
Naki pushed off from the door. “I can track down more information about Arthur Lipp.”
“Good,” Tim said. “See if you can find out what happened to him. I’m more than a little surprised that you found gold for the first clue.
It means there’s probably more to be found.
Something must have happened that prevented him from claiming the rest of it.
” He tapped his fingertips on the desktop. “Time is not on our side.”
Scout stood. “You’re absolutely right, sir. We’ll get started right now.”
“Not tonight, Scout,” Tim said, holding up a hand. “It’s late. Your hand’s bleeding, your clothes are wet, and I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”
Scout hesitated, surprised. “But Ranger Rivers, you said yourself that time is not on our side and—”
“Not up for debate,” Tim said.
Beside her, Naki shifted, his gaze flicking to Scout. “He’s right. You need to rest. This treasure hunt might take a while.”
“You’re probably right.” Tim sighed. “Scout, I’m going to put another ranger on the Baker Island tour until we get this matter . . . solved.”
“Yes, sir. First thing tomorrow, we’ll start on the next clue.” Scout looked down at her hand, wrapped in some tissues. “I hope the next ones aren’t as dramatic as the first one.”
Naki opened the door for Scout. “Oh, I think they will be.”
At the threshold, Scout stopped and turned to Naki. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Tim’s entire office seemed to shrink around them.
“Thank you again for . . . returnin’,” she said, her voice low.
“Of course,” Naki said.
What? Tim felt like he was in the middle of a conversation he didn’t belong in. As the moment seemed to stretch, he cleared his throat loudly. “So, first thing tomorrow . . . back in my office.”
The connection broke as Scout’s shoulders squared. “You can count on me, sir. Um, on us.”
The faintest trace of a smile flickered across Naki’s otherwise unreadable face. Amusement? Intrigue? Tim couldn’t say for sure, and besides, he wasn’t particularly good at reading subtleties—but something had cracked through that man’s stoic exterior.
The alarm clock erupted in a shrill, relentless wail, jolting Chase into semiconsciousness. He groaned and blindly swatted at it, his hand smacking everything on the nightstand except the clock. His phone hit the floor. A pen rolled off. A half-empty coffee mug tipped but miraculously didn’t spill.
The clock, meanwhile, kept shrieking.
“Okay, okay, okay.” Chase sat up and fumbled to silence the machine. His finger finally landed on the button, and the room fell blessedly silent.