Chapter 8
Eight
Nature, in her indifference, makes no distinction between good and evil.
—Anatole France, literary critic
Maisie perched on the edge of Pops’s open windowsill, her sneakers tapping lightly against the wall as she tried to seem casual when she felt anything but.
This was so exciting! She wanted to pinch herself.
This would be the kind of story that she and Frankie would tell their future grandchildren.
We helped solve one of the greatest NPS mysteries of all time.
Her eyes kept darting around the room, wondering if anyone else felt as thrilled about the day as she did.
Scout stood at attention near Pops’s desk, all crisp lines and perfectly tucked-in uniform.
Maisie tilted her head. Scout didn’t even realize how pretty she was.
That long hair, hanging heavy and straight.
Big blue eyes. Porcelain-perfect skin. If she swapped the ranger green uniform for something with a little sparkle—or even just jeans and a nice top—she’d have guys lining up.
Maisie sighed. That kind of effortless prettiness was so unfair. She thought of how early she’d woken up today to try and straighten her unruly hair. How much foundation she’d put over her face to cover her zillions of freckles. Not fair.
She shot a look at Frankie. He was slouched in a chair, one hiking boot over the other. A bandana covered his head, messy hair sticking out underneath, and his wrinkled ranger uniform hung open at the neck like he’d just rolled out of bed. Adorable.
Her eyes flitted to Chase, who leaned against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets.
So super cute. No wonder she had let her guard down at the coffee shop.
How could anyone who looked like him be such a jerk?
But he had been. And yet . . . after spending time with him last evening and hearing of his desperation to save his newspaper, her opinion was softening.
People did stupid things when they were desperate.
She’d never exactly felt that kind of desperation, but she’d seen plenty of it in movies.
Her gaze landed on the Penobscot man. Wabi or Naki or Dana or something like that.
Even though he dressed super cazh, he gave off a fierce vibe, like he’d just stepped out of an action movie as the hero no one dared mess with.
Maybe it was those strong cheekbones. Those dark, stick-like eyebrows.
Or how tall he was. But the guy should smile more.
Pops was at his desk, reading through some stuff about the lighthouse keeper that the Penobscot man had given him.
Bored, Maisie swept her gaze over the room, noticing small details.
Chase kept stealing little side glances at Scout.
And that Penobscot man was doing the same thing.
Cutting their eyes over at Scout now and then, like they wanted to make sure she was still there.
Seriously? Were both of these guys sweet on Scout?
Not fair! And Scout seemed oblivious to them.
She had positioned herself so that she didn’t face either of them.
Pops’s voice broke into Maisie’s important thoughts. “Naki, thank you for digging up this info. It’s very . . . enlightening.”
“I’d like a copy of that information,” Chase said, holding up his notepad.
Everyone glared at him. Even Scout.
“Look,” Chase said, “I realize the circumstances here aren’t ideal, but the story is going to break. That Enzo character is a wild card.”
“You’re the wild card,” Frankie said under his breath.
Chase heard. “I’m not a wild card. Don’t forget that I called Ranger Rivers and told him what I knew about the envelope.”
Maisie’s jaw dropped wide open. “You only knew about it because you stole it from me!”
Frankie gave a vigorous nod. “And you were trying to cut a deal with the chief in exchange for the story.”
“I’m a newspaperman. That’s what we do. We go to any length to get a story.”
“Any length?” Naki said in that deep voice of his.
That sure took the hot air out of Chase Fletcher. He almost looked like he’d been stung by a bee. Maisie decided she might like Naki, after all.
Chase turned to Naki. “I’ve given my word to Ranger Rivers that I won’t report anything on this until Monday morning.”
“And after that?” Frankie said, a look of disgust on his face.
“After that,” Chase said, “all bets are off. By then, Enzo will have sold the story. But at least the Bar Harbor Gazette will report it with accuracy.”
Pops looked at Scout. “That only gives us a couple of days. You’d better get started on cracking those clues.”
Everyone started toward the door until Pops said, “Frankie and Maisie, hold up.”
Frankie froze mid-step. “What? Why?”
“I’ve got something else for you to do.” Pops’s tone was firm, almost cold. “Something that is far removed from hunting for gold.”
Maisie’s jaw dropped. “But we’re trying to help!”
“Help? Help?” Pops set the papers down and locked eyes with both of them.
“You’ve both created all kinds of problems that could have easily been avoided.
I have no reason to think you won’t continue to do the same.
Time is of the essence, and I need you to get busy doing something useful.
You’re both on carriage road maintenance. ”
Frankie raised both hands in the air. “Hold it. Wait a second. I know what that means. It means shoveling horse manure.”
“Exactly,” Pops said, pointing toward the door. “Head over to the Jordon Pond Gatehouse area. The ranger is expecting you. Both of you.”
Frankie groaned. “Soooo unfair.”
“So unfair,” Maisie echoed. But not a complete loss. The silver lining was she was spending the day with Frankie.
Scout sat in the driver’s seat of the parked NPS jeep. She had hardly looked at Chase during the chief’s meeting, had yet to say a single word to him. She was disgusted with him.
Chase sat in the middle of the back seat, leaning forward with his notepad, ready to pounce on any possible lead. “Naki, what did you find out about the lighthouse keeper?”
Naki, in the passenger seat, his gaze steady on the dashboard, his hands resting loosely on his knees, didn’t respond.
Chase caught his silent message. “Like it or not, we’re all in this together now.”
Scout turned toward him, her tone clipped. “Only because you’ve made this so much more difficult.”
Chase didn’t flinch. “And I’ve apologized. Sincerely apologized.”
“An apology doesn’t guarantee forgiveness.” Scout didn’t try to hide the annoyance in her voice.
“But it should,” Chase said, “if you take the Lord’s Prayer to heart. ‘Forgive us as we forgive others.’”
Oh didn’t that just beat all? Chase . . . pulling the Bible card.
Naki spoke quietly but with weight. “Forgiveness and trust shouldn’t be confused.”
Yes! Yes! Exactly that. Scout could sense Naki’s dark eyes flicking over her before he shifted in his seat toward Chase. “The lighthouse keeper’s name was Arthur Lipp. He died about a month after the shipwreck.”
Chase pulled his pen out. “How do you spell his surname?”
“L-i-p-p,” Naki said, his voice clipped but deliberate.
Scout turned to Naki. “Any idea why he didn’t light his lighthouse that night? Could it have been accidental? Maybe his confession was out of guilt.”
She shot a dark look at Chase in the rearview mirror.
He missed it. “But if it were an accident, why did he hide the gold? Did he have enemies?” Chase was leaning practically halfway over the front seat. “Could it have had something to do with his untimely death?”
“I didn’t say untimely,” Naki said. “Nothing else presented itself.”
Scout had a hunch Naki knew more but wasn’t about to share it with Chase.
She didn’t blame him. Chase Fletcher was not to be trusted.
“I’ve been piecin’ together every fragment from the clues that I can remember.
All I can think of are some words. Hive, sand, sharp claws, dawn.
And I don’t think they’re in any order.” She glanced in the rearview mirror at Chase.
“I sure hope your one photograph’s clear enough to read them.
” As far as she was concerned, that photo was the only reason he was useful.
And yet—he wouldn’t share it. Wouldn’t even let her take a look.
Just one more item on the growing list of reasons not to trust him.
“It is. Pretty clear.” Chase peered at his phone. “The one you might be remembering, Scout, is this one—‘The hive upon the hill hides a secret within its stones, but only for those bold enough to climb to its peak.’” He leaned back. “I have to admit that I don’t understand any of these clues.”
Scout glanced at Naki. “That’s why we need you.”
Naki turned around again in the seat to face Chase. “Let me see the clues.”
“Oh no,” Chase said, holding his phone against his chest. “Not happening.”
“Chase!” Scout was shocked. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious. I know how easily I could get shoved aside in this. Clues will be revealed one by one.”
Naki glanced out the windshield, his voice quiet but firm. “Then let’s go.”
Scout turned the key in the ignition. “So where to?”
Naki’s gaze shifted to her, steady and unflinching. “Follow the Park Loop Road until you see the sign for Sand Beach. Then turn off into the parking lot.” He cast a glance back at Chase. “It’s unfortunate you didn’t consider better footwear for a vigorous hike in the rain.”
Scout swallowed a laugh. She had already noticed Chase was wearing his customary boat shoes. No socks. Like so many park visitors, he was not prepared.
Maisie straightened up, pressing a hand to her back as she squinted down the stretch of carriage road they still had to clean.
It was endless. Frankie had definitely exaggerated the number of horses using the roads, but the ranger had seriously underestimated how much litter hikers and bikers could leave behind. Unbelievable.