Chapter 7 #2
He flopped back onto the pillow, releasing a long, frustrated sigh.
The weight of the last day—or was it two?
—pressed down on him, a constant reminder of his own failure.
His anger simmered as he replayed the moment over and over: the clues, right there in his hands, in his own home!
How could he have been so careless as not to have snapped a single good picture?
He might not have the full story yet, but the groundwork for the article could have begun.
That is, if he could somehow still pull the whole thing together.
His ears still rang from Maisie and Frankie’s nonstop bickering last night as they followed the only lead they had.
Chase had tracked down Sophie’s home address through the owner of the coffee shop and driven them there.
When Sophie heard that her boyfriend had, allegedly but most probably, stolen the envelope by breaking into his car, she let out a wail.
“My mother’s right. I always pick losers! ”
It didn’t help when Frankie tried to interrogate Sophie with all the finesse of a wrecking ball. “Where would that loser go? What are his favorite hangout spots?”
“I don’t know! I just met Enzo last weekend.”
“He seems to me like the kind of guy who has girlfriends in every town.”
Sophie sobbed louder.
“You’re making her feel terrible!” Maisie hissed, glaring at Frankie. She patted Sophie’s back, trying to console her.
“Who cares how she feels?” Frankie snapped back. “I want that envelope that her jerk boyfriend stole.”
Sophie had wailed even louder.
Chase shook off the lingering haze of last night’s futile amateur detective work and forced himself to get out of bed.
In the bathroom, he flicked on the light and winced at his reflection.
His hair was sticking up in every direction, and the dark circles under his eyes looked like they’d been drawn with a Sharpie.
“Great,” he muttered, leaning closer to the mirror.
He rubbed his face, as if that might somehow erase the guilt and discouragement clinging to him. It didn’t.
He felt increasingly like the guy who’d won the lottery but couldn’t find the ticket.
He’d finally found a way to save the newspaper, and he’d lost the critical evidence.
Scout’s face floated to the forefront of his mind.
He’d see her this morning at Ranger Rivers’s office, and the thought made his stomach twist. There was .
. . something between them, wasn’t there?
A little spark. A little something something.
But he was sure he’d gone and managed to wreck whatever good opinion she might’ve had of him.
And his newspaper? Forget it. No story. No scoop. No plan. Just the same sinking ship, and now he was standing on the bow, waving helplessly as it went down.
A loud bang on the door startled him out of his spiraling thoughts.
“Chase! Open up!”
He shuffled to the door, rubbing his eyes as he yanked it open. Frankie and Maisie stood on the other side.
“Dude,” Frankie said, jerking his thumb behind him. “Let’s go. We’ve got buried treasure to find.”
Maisie grinned. “Come on! This is gonna be super thrilling!”
Chase stared at them, then glanced down at his wrinkled T-shirt and pajamas. He wasn’t ready for this. Not even close.
But then again, the alternative was to do nothing. Chase rubbed his jaw. Doing nothing wasn’t an option. Too much was riding on this. “Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you by my car.” He shut the door and headed to his closet to grab some clean clothes.
Scout stood in front of her closet, hands on her hips, surveying the lineup of starched uniforms hanging in crisp, orderly rows.
Most assumed that a uniform was a uniform, identical meant identical, but that assumption would be wrong.
Each one fit a little different—a scratchy tag on one or a too-tight buttonhole on another. And then there were hats.
She tilted her head back to glare at the top shelf, where only two ranger hats sat.
But her favorite hat, her very best hat, the one that fit perfectly, snug but not tight, with just enough wear to feel like a second skin, was now floating somewhere in the Atlantic.
She stretched up on her toes and grabbed her next-best hat, eyeing it critically before sighing.
It would have to do, though nothing would replace her favorite hat and the shot of confidence it gave her.
And she needed every extra ounce of confidence today.
She’d woken with a gut feeling that this would be a pivotal day for the shipwreck mystery.
She was pretty sure Naki would have spent last night digging up information about the lighthouse keeper. What was Arthur Lipp’s motive? If Ranger Rivers was right, and there was more gold to be found, why hadn’t he collected it? She could hardly wait to find out what Naki had discovered.
Actually, Scout tried not to think about Naki, which only meant she thought about him more.
He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known—his quiet, calm stillness that seemed to settle over everything like the morning mist on Baker Island.
Most mortifying, though, was the pull she felt toward him, an attraction so sharp and unexpected it nearly took her breath away every time their eyes met.
Whatever this was—this ridiculous, heart-thumping, soul-stirring nonsense—it needed to stop.
As she adjusted her next-best hat, her thoughts drifted to Chase Fletcher.
Chase, of all people, tangled up in this baffling shipwreck story in a way she could hardly believe.
Taking Maisie’s envelope? Elbowing his way into this treasure hunt?
She didn’t know him well, not really, but she had thought he was a better man than that. Hoped for it, maybe.
The first time she met Chase, she had thought, Now here’s someone I could actually bring home to meet Mother. The kind of guy her mother was always hinting at, not so subtly, when she said things like, “Have you met anyone interesting lately, sweetheart?”
Scout had yet to mention Chase to her mother, despite the handful of dates they’d managed since meeting at church on her very first weekend in Acadia.
Actually, he’d asked her out plenty of times—only to cancel most of them for work.
She hadn’t minded too much. She understood his dedication to the newspaper; after all, she felt the same pull toward the parks.
And when they did spend time together, he was good company—the charming boy-next-door type, easy to talk to, with plenty of shared interests. He checked nearly all of Scout’s boxes.
Until now.
Mother would go absolutely wild over Chase—positively bonkers.
He had everything she valued: a solid education, a distinguished pedigree, and a family business with his name on the door.
She’d invite friends over for dinner just to show him off, beaming as if she’d handpicked him herself.
And before dessert was even served, she’d have a book of sample wedding invitations open on the table.
As for Chase’s recent moral failing? Mother would wave it off with a breezy, “Not a failing, sweetheart. Merely a stumble.”
Like it or not, Chase Fletcher was smack in the middle of this shipwreck mystery, and Scout couldn’t decide what to make of it. Coincidences weren’t something she believed in—not in her job, not in her life. God had his plans, and while they might be mysterious, they were never accidental.
So why Chase? What was the grand plan behind him suddenly being front and center in her life?
Was this God’s way of keeping her thoughts on the straight and narrow, steering them firmly away from Naki?
If so, that might be helpful. Because that moment last night—when a wave splashed up and she stumbled and Naki caught her before she fell, and he looked at her like he might be thinking of kissing her, and she was thinking that she wanted him to—kept looping in her mind, over and over. Dangerous stuff.
Naki didn’t wear a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married. Maybe the Penobscot people didn’t wear rings. What she did know was that the little boy in the library, the one who ran to him for ice cream money, acted like he belonged to Naki.
Scout stood, shaking off all those stray, rambling thoughts. She had a job to do today, and no amount of speculation was going to make it easier. No matter how she felt about Chase right now—and it wasn’t good—he was the only one who knew the clues to where the gold was.
Snatching the uniform from the closet, she put it on, tucking in her shirt just so. She sat on the edge of her bed to lace up her boots. Finishing, she glanced at her watch. Good. A few minutes to spare to do one last thing before she faced this day.
To: drjhjohnson@ Subject: Gold!
Hey Dad,
This whole shipwreck-and-hidden-gold mystery has taken a wild turn.
I only have time for the highlight reel: Naki cracked the first clue, “The owl knows at dusk.” That odd phrase led him to a narrow crevice in a large boulder along the coastline.
Guess who got the honor of retrieving the small brass box stashed inside? (Small hands come in handy sometimes.)
Inside were ten gold Double Eagle coins, minted in 1852. Back then, each coin was worth $20. (Worth way more now, obvi.)
I have a hunch we’ve barely scratched the surface of this treasure hunt. Wish you were in on this.
More soon, Scout
And then she archived the email, shut down her laptop, and headed out the door.