Chapter 10
Ten
Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
—William Wordsworth, English poet
Frankie stood toe-to-toe with Enzo outside the coffee shop, his jaw tight and his hands balled into fists. Maisie hovered near the edge of the scene, arms crossed and eyes sharp, while Sophie, with her electric-blue hair, backed up against the coffee shop window.
“Dude, I want that envelope back.” Frankie’s voice was vibrating with anger.
Enzo leaned lazily against a lamppost, scrolling through his phone. “Kid, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do.” Frankie said, jabbing a finger in Enzo’s chest. “You broke into Chase Fletcher’s car and stole it. Maisie’s grandfather is the chief ranger here, and he will lock you up so fast your head will spin. Trust me, he won’t go easy on you. You and Sophie can share a jail cell—”
“Hey!” Sophie’s voice cut through Frankie’s tirade. “Do not drag me into this. I didn’t do anything wrong. Enzo’s the one who broke into Chase’s car and took that stupid envelope!”
The door opened and what looked like a manager popped his head out.
“What’s going on out here?” His gaze swept the scene, then landed on Sophie.
“This is the third time this week that your boyfriend has caused a ruckus. Get back to work. Later, you and I are going to have a talk. And you”—he pointed to Enzo—“go find something useful to do. Far, far away from this shop.” He closed the door.
Sophie turned on Enzo, her voice rising. “Now you’re going to make me lose my job! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to find work?”
Enzo’s face darkened as he straightened up. “Stop freaking out, Sophie.”
“I’ll stop freaking out when you stop lying to everybody. Tell them the truth, Enzo.” Shooting him a look of disgust, she opened the door and marched inside the coffee shop. The door opened again, and she popped her head out. “And don’t bother calling me again. We’re done.”
Enzo shrugged. “What-ev.”
Frankie took a step closer to Enzo. “So where’s the envelope?”
Enzo met his glare with a smirk. “What’s the big deal? Why do you even care? It’s just some musty old papers. Not like it was worth anything.”
Frankie took another step, and for a second, Maisie thought he might actually punch him. “Where did you put it?”
“I tossed it.” Enzo glanced past him, like he was bored with the whole conversation. “In a dumpster.”
Frankie’s nostrils flared. “Which dumpster?”
Enzo tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm . . . can’t remember. Guess you’ll have to check ’em all.” He flashed Frankie a grin, stepped around him, and walked off down the street like he had all the time in the world.
For a moment, no one spoke. Frankie’s hands trembled at his sides, and Maisie could practically hear his teeth grinding.
Maisie stared down the road where Enzo had disappeared, her mind racing. “So let’s go find it.”
Frankie snorted. “How? There are, like, a million dumpsters in this park.”
“Not a million.” Maisie’s voice had an edge now, calm but firm. “We’ll start with the ones near Pops’s office. That’s where Chase parked his car when he grabbed the envelope. If Enzo dumped it, he probably didn’t go far. Fun fact—”
“Not now, Maisie,” Frankie said.
“This one,” she said, lifting a finger in the air, “is relevant to our situation. Most criminals are lazy. Like, statistically. They’ll take the easiest route to avoid extra effort.
That’s why houses with cameras or barking dogs are way less likely to get broken into.
And Enzo seems like an especially lazy crook. ”
Frankie opened his mouth, ready to argue, but apparently Maisie’s stellar logic stopped him cold. He huffed out a breath, nodding. “Fine. Let’s go look for it.”
Maisie turned on her heel and started striding back to the Island Explorer bus stop at the Village Green. Frankie trailed behind. It was the first time, she realized, that he was following her. Ever since she’d first met him, it had been the other way around.
Things were looking up.
Chase tried not to gloat about Naki’s decision to set aside the clue he’d recited to them—I left it where the ocean weeps, for what I couldn’t carry weighs me still.
It was just so satisfying to see Naki—annoyingly composed and all-knowing—finally admit he didn’t have an answer.
He said it was best to put that one away for now and focus on the next one.
So far, the guy’s guesses were spot-on. It irked Chase to admit it, but there was something unnerving about Naki’s insights. Like he could almost read that lighthouse keeper’s mind.
What also irked Chase was the weird feeling he kept picking up on—a strengthening vibe between Scout and Naki.
Nothing was said. Nothing was obvious. It was in the way they looked at each other, the way they sort of understood each other without words.
Whatever that was, it made his skin itch.
The sooner this treasure hunt ended, the better.
Especially so for his newspaper. Lydia, his editor, was pressing him hard to run the story as soon as possible. Like, today.
“Next clue?” Scout said.
Jolted out of his musings, Chase flipped open his notepad to read aloud, “‘The boulder balanced on air guards a prize, unseen yet unyielding, held still on the mountain’s edge.’” He glanced at Naki, an eyebrow raised, as if prepared to be challenged.
“It’s obviously South Bubble. South Bubble is famous for the boulder that’s ‘balanced on air.’”
“The clue says the treasure is unseen,” Naki said in that irritatingly calm way.
Chase’s lips tightened, clearly fighting a moment of exasperation. Could the guy not give credit to anyone else for coming up with the answer? “North Bubble barely has a rock.”
His tone might have sounded a bit testier than he meant for it to because Scout raised a hand in a placating gesture. “Which Bubble is closer to us from here?”
“South Bubble,” Chase said.
“Then let’s start there. If there’s no sign of the gold, at least we can rule it out.”
“Brilliant, Scout,” Chase said, flashing a grin. “We think alike.”
She gave him a thumbs-up—quick, casual, nothing more. But Chase took it as something else. A signal. Maybe things weren’t as tense as they’d been. Maybe she understood why he’d done what he did. It made him feel like things were back on track between them. Or getting there.
The sun beat down on Scout as they reached the South Bubble trailhead, the heat pressing in like a too-tight jacket. It was one of the first truly warm days of summer, and she wasn’t used to it yet. Her second-best hat felt too tight, like it was slow-roasting her scalp.
Chase was marching up the path like he couldn’t stand to waste a single second. “Come on!” he said, calling to them over his shoulder. “We’re wasting time we don’t have to waste.”
Naki, setting a more measured pace, simply shrugged. “The gold is in no hurry. Chase is the one in a hurry.”
True, Scout thought, but she would have to add Ranger Rivers to that list. Then again, that was because of Chase’s declaration that he was planning to run the story in Monday’s paper. So Naki was right. Chase was the one in a hurry. She slowed down and kept to Naki’s pace.
The hike was steep but brief. Scout kept her eyes on Naki, walking in front of her. At the summit, Chase pointed. “There it is.”
Scout had to stop and stare. Bubble Rock loomed—its precarious position almost daring the wind to knock it loose. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would stay balanced long—and yet it had. For thousands of years.
It was also surrounded by a dozen or more hikers.
Naki walked to the far side of the summit, at a distance from Bubble Rock and the hikers, then came back to where Scout stood—in the center.
Safely away from the edge. With his arms crossed against his chest, Naki scanned the area with a quiet intensity.
Discreetly, he said, “What we’re looking for isn’t here. ”
Chase had been sizing up Bubble Rock and returned in time to hear Naki.
“We won’t know until we look. I’m gonna give it a serious search.
” He sounded a little edgy. He had to wait his turn for the boulder—so many hikers had to get a shot of standing under the boulder as if they were holding it up.
When it was Chase’s turn, he started underneath, where the others had been, then climbed up to the formation where the boulder rested.
He knelt down and peered around the base for anything that might hint of a place to conceal gold.
Then he rolled over onto his back to reach an arm under the rock.
A few hikers, waiting for their turn for a picture, watched him curiously. One, laughing, even took a picture of Chase. Scout could just imagine the caption for the Instagram post: Tourist traps himself under Bubble Rock.
Naki slowly circled the summit again, glancing out at the expansive valley below. When he came back to the center where Scout remained, she asked him how he could be so certain the gold wasn’t hidden here.
“The crevices are too large,” Naki said softly. “If something small like a brass box was hidden here, it would’ve fallen in too deep to retrieve it.”
Her eyes were on Chase as he kept skimming the surface of the boulder, the way Naki had skimmed the wall at Thunder Hole.
“But you’re assumin’ that the person who left it intended to return for it.
And you’re also assumin’ that it would be left in a brass box, just like the other places.
” Scout turned to Naki and realized he’d been watching her. She felt her cheeks grow warm.
He seemed to be deciding something, weighing words before speaking them. “Scout, you saw the clues. You saw the newspaper headline with the confession scribbled on it. Try to imagine them in your mind.”
She had tried! But to no avail. “I was in such a rush to get back to the boat that I didn’t have time to study the clues.”
“I’m not asking what they said. But how.”
“I’m not followin’.”