Chapter 13 #2
Finally, she sat, pulling a red pen from behind her ear like it was a weapon. Lydia’s pen made a rhythmic scratching against the rough draft as she circled, underlined, and occasionally wrote scathing little notes in the margins.
“You’re overusing semicolons again.”
“Noted,” Chase said, already braced for her editorial takedown.
“‘Breathtaking discovery’ is a bit over the top, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t. Lydia, this happened in our own backyard.”
She didn’t reply, just hemmed and hawed in her usual way, the red pen pausing in midair before landing decisively on the page. Finally, she set the draft down and looked up. “Needs some serious polish.”
“Yeah, of course. I expected as much.”
“But no visuals?”
He grinned. “Incredible pictures. Teddy’s working on them now.” Teddy was a local photographer who did contract work for the newspaper. “So what do you think?”
Lydia leaned back, her chair creaking under the motion, and folded her arms. She was the only one besides Chase who knew how dire the paper’s future looked. “If we play this right—if we lean into the human angle, the history, the mystery—this isn’t just a headline. It’s a lifeline for the paper.”
Chase smiled, relief flooding through him. “That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking.”
As if on cue, the office door swung open, and Teddy, the photographer, strode in with his laptop under one arm and a camera dangling from the other. “Got the shots,” he said, dropping into the chair across from Chase’s desk and pulling out his laptop. “You’re gonna love these.”
Teddy pulled up the photos, high-resolution digital copies of the envelope and documents they’d found. The lighting made the worn pages look almost cinematic.
“These are incredible,” Lydia said, leaning forward.
“And here’s the gold,” Teddy said, scrolling to a shot of the cache found at Cadillac Mountain this very morning. Chase had taken pictures on his cell phone of the brass box, the gold coins in Scout’s palm.
“Wow, wow, wow,” Lydia said. “And there’re still some out there, right?”
“There are!” But the words had barely left Chase’s mouth before a sinking realization hit him. His face froze. Scout. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He’d completely forgotten her up on Precipice Trail. In the rain.
Lydia was watching him. “Chase? What’s wrong?”
He bolted to his feet. “You two start working on the mock-up. We need a killer headline. Something bold, like, ‘Hidden Gold at Acadia National Park.’ I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He headed out of his office toward the front door but stopped abruptly to pull out his phone and call Scout.
“Scout,” he said after the beep, his voice low with guilt.
“Call me as soon as you can. I’m sorry I didn’t come back to get you.
Something . . . uh . . . something important came up.
Please just call me.” He hung up, staring at his phone for a long moment, sickened by the wave of guilt that swept over him.
How had he let this happen? The biggest story of his career—and possibly the salvation of his struggling newspaper—and yet, somehow, he’d managed to forget a person who should matter more than a headline.
He slipped the phone into his back pocket as the door opened. In walked Ranger Tim Rivers. Not happy.
Tim shoved the door to the newsroom open with more force than was necessary, the glass rattling in the frame. He pointed a finger at Chase. “You gave me your word.” His voice was as sharp as the crack of a whip. “You said you wouldn’t run this story until all the gold was found.”
“I said I’d wait as long as I could,” Chase said, spreading his hands in a gesture that was meant to appear conciliatory.
Frankie and Maisie slipped in behind Tim and stood just inside the doorway. Chase looked a little relieved at the sight of them, which only infuriated Tim more.
Chase put a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “When Frankie called to tell me he’d found the envelope, it seemed like the end of the story just fell into place.”
“Me?” Frankie slapped a hand on his chest. “How do I always seem to get stuck in the middle of this?”
Tim ignored him. “End of the story? It’s not even close to the end of the story.”
“Yeah, it is. I found more gold this morning—up on Cadillac Mountain. I’m doing all I can to help bring this story to a conclusion. Maybe not every single clue has been checked off, but most have.”
“Doesn’t matter. This isn’t your story to tell.”
“This story is bigger than any of us. Bigger than me. Bigger than you. People deserve to know what’s been uncovered—and to know the truth of it now, not weeks from now. News like this can’t wait, Ranger.”
“It can’t wait because you don’t want to wait.”
Chase sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m just trying to do my job. Just like you.”
Tim shook his head, his frustration still simmering. “Once this story gets out, Acadia is going to be overrun by treasure hunters. During the busiest time of the year when park staff is already stretched to its limits. And don’t even get me started on the federal funding cuts.”
“Maybe there’s a silver lining in this. Maybe you should stop and consider this story as a good thing for the park.
” Chase put his hands on his hips. “This could be a great publicity opportunity. And you’ve got plenty of time to prep your staff.
” He rocked his hand in the air. “A little bit of time.”
“Do you have any idea of the kind of person who will come to look for gold? They’re not here to see the carriage roads and go bird-watching. They’ll go off trail. They’ll turn over every stone. They’ll push hikers out of their way.”
“You’re only seeing the bad side. What about the bump up in visitor fees? What about the vendors who make more money with more park visitors? What about the Bar Harbor restaurants, hotels, ice cream shops? Ranger Rivers, you’re missing the upside, and I guarantee there is an upside.”
Tim folded his arms across his chest, his jaw tightening. Chase might have a point, but he could still foresee a nightmare for park staff. “I want the envelope.”
“Okay. Okay,” Chase said. “You can have it. We got what we needed from it.”
Tim’s eyes narrowed. “I bet you did.”
“You can even read the rough draft of the article. It’s fair. I made sure to credit everyone.”
Tim wasn’t mollified. “I don’t care about your story. I only want the envelope.”
Chase nodded, his jaw tight. Without a word, he disappeared into his office. Tim heard voices, then Chase returned and extended it toward Tim. “Here you go.”
Tim took it without a word. “When does it run?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“You’ve just made my job ten times harder.”
“Ranger, I—” Chase started, but Tim raised a hand to stop him.
“You made your choice.” Tim’s voice was cold and final.
“Now I have to deal with the fallout.” Without waiting for a reply, he strode out, already running through the calls he’d have to make—starting with the park superintendent.
Extra staff. More patrols. Maybe barricades. All through the Fourth of July weekend.
Tim’s eyes squeezed shut. Retirement, which he’d been dreading, suddenly looked quite appealing.
One-sided text exchange between Chase and Scout:
Chase
Scout, you’re not answering my calls. Or my texts. Pretty sure that means you’re ignoring me, but I’m gonna keep trying anyway. Please pick up. We need to talk. I need to explain.
Look, about Precipice Trail. I shouldn’t have left like that. I knew you could handle yourself—you’re that kind of woman. The kind who doesn’t need rescuing. And I respect the heck out of that. But still, I should’ve handled things differently. I’m sorry. Truly sorry.
So, the story is going to run in tomorrow’s morning edition. I did my best to make sure it was fair. Hope you think so too.
Any chance you’ll forgive me? Or can we at least talk in person? You name the time and place. I’ll come running.
Actually, tomorrow night is best for me. Expecting a crazy busy day.
Scout?