Chapter 9 #2
“Sounds like guilt to me,” Chase said, sitting forward. “People do strange things when they feel guilty.” He fixed his gaze on Naki. “Speaking of reasons for doing what we do . . . why are you doing all this? I know what I hope to get out of it. But what’s in it for you?”
Naki didn’t flinch, meeting Chase’s stare with a calm intensity. “My help was requested.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Scout cut in. “We’d be hittin’ dead end after dead end without your know-how.” She glanced at Naki, who turned slightly to meet her look.
And that look lasted just a little too long.
Right there. Chase caught it. This guy was into her. Not cool. “So,” he said, to rein in the focus, “let’s start brainstorming. What do you think the weeping ocean could mean?”
But Scout had turned into a small gravel driveway lined with shrubs and come to a stop in front of a very, very modest cabin.
Clearly park housing. “Since we’re passing right by my place, I’d like to change into a dry uniform.
Then we take the gold to Ranger Rivers, and after that, we tackle the clue.
” She had already unclipped her seat belt. “I won’t be but a moment.”
“Scout,” Naki said as she opened the door, “don’t forget gloves for your hands.”
She flashed a smile. “Yes, sir.”
“Naki will do,” he said, though she was already halfway to the door.
Chase watched her disappear inside before shifting his gaze to Naki, who was still staring after her. “Funny how she calls you sir. Y’know, you keep asking her to call you Naki, but she can’t seem to do it. I wonder why.”
Naki’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “She’s very professional.”
“Yep. Very dedicated to the NPS. I noticed that on our first date.”
The faintest lift of Naki’s eyebrows betrayed his surprise, but he stayed silent.
“Yeah, we met at church. Instant spark, y’know? Of course, you probably do—a guy like you, plenty of sparks, right? A girl in every port? That kind of thing?” Chase grinned, trying to pull something—anything—out of him.
Naki turned slightly, his dark eyes steady. “That’s a lot of questions.”
“Well, yeah. I’m a newspaperman. It’s what we do.”
“Doesn’t that mean sticking to facts?”
“Sure, but asking questions gets you to the facts.”
Naki tilted his head slightly, as if considering. “Then here’s one for you—what are the other clues?”
Chase paused, caught off guard. He’d been careful not to share too much, doling out the clues one by one. They were his leverage, his assurance that he’d stay central to this hunt. He didn’t trust Naki, not with that maddening calm. “We’ll get to them in time.”
Naki turned fully in his seat, his stare sharp enough to cut. “Whose time?”
Chase opened his mouth to reply but found himself coming up short.
Naki had turned his attention back to the coins.
For someone who’d barely acknowledged the gold at first, he seemed oddly focused on it now.
His fingers traced the edge of one coin, almost thoughtfully, before tucking it back into the bag.
“So what’s going to happen to the gold?” Chase asked, keeping his tone deliberately casual.
Naki didn’t glance up. “That depends on who it belongs to.”
Chase leaned forward slightly. “Legally? Or morally?”
This time, Naki shifted in his seat to face him, dark eyes calm but unyielding. “Does that matter?”
It should matter. But the weight of Naki’s gaze and the ambiguity in his tone left something unspoken hanging in the air. Chase felt the question turn inward, like it had been directed at him instead. “Why do I always get the feeling that there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“I might say the same of you.”
Before Chase could respond, the clatter of Scout’s boots broke the silence. She strode toward the jeep with effortless confidence, a backpack slung over one shoulder. As she slid into the driver’s seat, she tossed the backpack over the seat to Chase.
“What’s in this?” he said, catching it.
“Snacks and water.”
Nice. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail, a new pink ribbon tied around it, and there was a fresh swipe of lipstick on her mouth—subtle, but enough to make him notice.
“Ready to rock and roll, gentlemen,” she said, starting the engine.
She glanced up in the rearview mirror, noticed he was looking at her, and she flashed a brief smile at him.
She was really, really pretty. The kind of pretty that stayed with you, deepened the longer you looked.
He thought of a comment his mother often said—a person’s looks became subjective the moment you got to know them.
They grew more attractive, or less. Scout was definitely in the more list.
Naki turned to her. “You brought gloves?”
She patted her pants pocket.
“Good. You’ll need them.”
Why? What did Naki know that Chase didn’t?
As the jeep pulled away, Chase shifted in his seat, unable to shake that reporter’s instinct that he was missing something.
Naki wasn’t just hard to read—he was controlling the narrative, and Chase wasn’t sure where it was heading.
For the first time, he wondered if finding the gold wasn’t the main story.
Maisie scanned the rendezvous spot for the park’s maintenance crew for the fifth time, her nerves prickling.
Frankie was a no-show. She’d texted him four times, each message getting progressively more exasperated.
When he still didn’t reply, she slipped away from the group, ducked behind a parked car, and called him.
He answered on the sixth ring, his voice sharp and annoyed. “What?”
“Frankie! Where are you? They’re ready to get started.”
He scoffed. “Frankie Franklin does not spend his days cleaning up behind horses. Frankie Franklin did not come all the way to Maine to pick up trash.”
“Don’t talk about yourself in third person. It’s super creepy.”
“Whatever. I’ve got better things to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like finding Enzo and getting that envelope back.” The line went dead before she could respond.
Maisie stared at her phone, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t exactly surprised, but Frankie’s recklessness made her stomach churn. Enzo was a bad dude. Twice the size of Frankie.
Hunched behind the car, Maisie scanned the area for eagle-eyed rangers, the kind who would call her grandfather and report her, then tiptoed toward the road.
She spotted an Island Explorer bus stopping just ahead.
Perfect. Fun fact, she thought, wishing she could tell someone: Those buses were free and went everywhere.
They started and stopped at the Village Green not far from Sophie’s coffee shop.
If Frankie was looking for Enzo, Sophie would be his first stop.
Fifteen minutes later, Maisie hopped off the bus and cut across the Village Green.
The sweet smell of fresh-cut grass hung in the air, something that would normally inspire her to stop and sniff, but she tried to stay focused.
Squinting, her gaze narrowed on the figure crossing the road ahead of her—Frankie.
He was walking fast, head down, hands jammed in his pockets.
“Frankie!” she said, breaking into a jog. “Frankie Franklin!”
He stopped and turned, not at all happy to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping you.”
“Forget it, Maisie.”
“Don’t even try to stop me.” Maisie closed the distance between them. “You’re hopeless at talking to people. You make everybody mad. If you want Sophie to help, you need me.”
Frankie scowled but didn’t argue. After a long, theatrical groan, he muttered, “Fine.”
Maisie grinned and fell into step beside him. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Sophie’s our only lead,” he said, his voice low. “We need her to tell us where we can find Enzo.”
As they rounded the corner to the coffee shop, Maisie’s eyes widened. This errand just got a whole lot easier. Standing just outside, deep in conversation with Sophie, was Enzo.
Text conversation between Scout and her counselor, Elizabeth:
Elizabeth
Hey Scout, just checking in. Any reason for canceling our Zoom session this week?
Scout
Just swamped with a big project. Super demanding.
Understood. So have you climbed any mountains lately?
Funny you ask—I actually have!
Love to hear it! Did you take a moment to look down? The best views come after the toughest climbs.
Gotta run. I’ll check in once this project’s off my plate.