Chapter 16
Sixteen
Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.
—Edward Abbey, author and environmentalist
The persistent knocking at Scout’s cottage door startled her awake. She blinked, unsure if she was dreaming. Another knock—firmer this time—was followed by Naki’s deep voice. “Scout. It’s me.”
She rubbed her eyes and rolled out of bed. When she opened the door a crack to confirm it really was him and not a weird dream, Naki stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. She blinked. “You could’ve called to let me know you were comin’.”
“Sorry.”
She blinked again. “So what brings you here at”—she looked at her watch—“four o’clock in the mornin’?”
“After I left here yesterday, I stopped by Ranger Rivers’s office to study the clues. I think I know where a gold cache is hidden.”
Now she was wide awake. “I’ll go get dressed.”
A few minutes later, Scout emerged from her bedroom, tying her pink ribbon at the back of her neck. She brushed past Naki to grab her boots, then sat on the wobbly rocker to slip her feet into them and tie the laces, aware that he was watching her. Too aware. She finished and stood. “What?”
“Your father is left-handed. Like you.”
Mid-reach for the jeep keys in a bowl on the coffee table, she froze. “We are nothing alike. And I don’t want to discuss my father. That topic is off-limits.”
Naki didn’t push, but his silence carried its own weight. Scout grabbed her keys, plopped her hat on her head, and crossed the room to the door.
“Scout.”
She turned.
He lifted a hand. “Gloves?”
She spun around and went into her bedroom to get her gloves.
They walked in silence to her jeep, the dawn air cool and damp against her skin. As she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, she hesitated again, the question escaping her lips before she could think better of it. “Did he ever remarry?”
Naki, already buckling his seat belt, looked at her. “I thought you didn’t want to discuss him.”
“I don’t.” She gave him a side glance. “But did he?”
“Remarry? No.” He settled into the seat, stretching out his long legs. “I believe he is still in love with your mother.”
Scout snorted as she pulled out of the driveway, her knuckles tight on the steering wheel. “Not possible.”
“Then why does he still wear his wedding ring?”
She stilled for a second before shifting out of reverse.
“So does my mother.” Whenever Scout asked her about it, she would say, “Honey, I earned this diamond by putting up with that man.” Scout’s theory was that Mother didn’t want people to know she was a divorcée.
She shook off that thought and shifted gears, the hum of the engine filling the silence as they drove into the darkness.
It was after she had turned onto the main road that it occurred to her that she didn’t know where she was going. “Directions?”
“Keep going. The clue said, ‘Where the hunter watches the dawn, beneath his shadow lies the prize.’ It has to be Otter Cliff. The sun rises right behind it this time of year. It casts the cliff’s shadow into a narrow crevice above the tide line.”
Scout exhaled a laugh, shaking her head in amazement. “You, sir, are a walking park encyclopedia.”
“It’s in my bones, this park. And Naki will do.” He turned to her. “The person who stashed the gold had quite an understanding of the tides and the sun’s path throughout the year. Must’ve been very familiar with Acadia.”
Scout straightened her back. “I completely forgot! Yesterday you said you knew something more about the gold stasher.”
“I said my partner had a theory. But you said you don’t want to discuss my partner.”
Scout scowled. “Mind telling me this theory?”
“Not now. Too long a conversation. We’re under a time crunch.”
“What’s the crunch?”
“The sunrise. Turn off here.”
After parking the car, they walked down a path to the sea.
The predawn light crept across the sky, a pale wash of gray-blue stretching over the ocean.
Scout shoved her hands into her pockets, shivering slightly in the cool air as she stood beside Naki at the base of Otter Cliff.
The massive granite face rose above them, its cracks and crevices cast in deep shadow by the faint light.
“How in the world can we narrow it down to one crevice?”
“By following her pattern.” Naki stood motionless, his sharp eyes scanning the rocks.
He pointed to a narrow crevice—about shoulder height to Scout—where a long shadow, cast by the first light of dawn, stretched like a deliberate marker.
“There,” he said, his voice quiet but confident.
“The shadow gives it away. No one would think to look here except at this exact time of day.”
Scout hoped he was right. She put on her gloves and stepped closer, squinting into the narrow crack. The opening was small, barely wide enough for her arm to fit. “You’re sure this is it?”
Naki tilted his head toward her. “Ninety-nine percent sure.” He rocked his hand back and forth. “Maybe . . . ninety.”
She sighed and slipped one arm into the crevice, her fingers brushing against cold, damp rock as she reached deeper and deeper.
“You know,” she said, gritting her teeth as she felt her way along the jagged edges, “it’d be nice if, just once, these were a little easier to reach.
Like, I don’t know, under a nice pile of leaves. ”
“She didn’t want anyone else to find them.”
“No kidding,” she muttered, wincing as her elbow scraped against the granite. Her fingers finally hit something solid. “I feel something.” Something cold, smooth. Something with sharp corners.
She gripped the edge of the box, but it was wedged tightly into the rock. She gave it a sharp tug, but it still didn’t budge.
Naki crossed his arms, watching with faint amusement. “Need a hand?”
Scout shot him a look. “Very funny.” She shifted her grip, braced her free hand against the rock for leverage, and gave the box another hard yank.
This time, it shifted. Just slightly, but it wasn’t quite as wedged in.
Slowly, she wiggled it, moving it until it broke free with a scraping sound, and she stumbled back a step, holding the brass box triumphantly. “Got it!”
The morning light glinted off the brass as she wiped dirt from her sleeve. She looked up at Naki.
“Good thing you’ve got small hands,” he said, his tone teasing but with an edge of respect.
“Good thing you’ve got smart instincts,” she said back, handing him the box. “We make quite a team.”
Naki’s gaze lingered on the box for a moment before flicking back to her. “So we do.” For just a moment, their eyes locked, and then his face softened into a full, pleased smile.
Good night.
Today’s edition of the Bar Harbor Gazette lay open on Tim Rivers’s desk, the headline screaming “Hidden Gold at Acadia National Park.” Next to the newspaper was the most recently discovered cache that Scout and Naki had just brought in to him.
Scout reached for the newspaper, her movements careful, almost hesitant. She scanned the article, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Well,” she said finally, setting the paper down, “Chase did stick to the facts. Mostly.”
Tim grunted. “And it’s the ‘mostly’ that’s the problem.” He jabbed a finger at the paper. “That headline alone is going to bring every treasure hunter from here to Nova Scotia. Fletcher should have waited to run this story. Thanks to you both, the gold has been found.”
Scout and Naki exchanged a look.
Oh no. Tim almost didn’t want to ask. “There’s more?”
“Possibly,” Scout said.
“Probably,” Naki added.
Tim shook his head. Finding the rest of the gold had just dropped in priority. Right now, managing how this would impact the park was all he could think about.
“Ranger,” Naki said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about treasure seekers finding the gold. It’s been hidden in very obscure places.”
Tim shook his head. “To be honest, finding the gold isn’t my worry. It’s what treasure seekers might do to the park as they search for it. The rangers need to make sure they aren’t turning over every rock and tree stump. Scout, you’re needed back on Baker Island tour today.”
“I’m ready, sir,” Scout said, glancing at the wall clock.
“To my amazement, the superintendent is thrilled about all the attention.” Tim leaned back in his chair, the wooden frame creaking under his weight. “She’s excited about the A-S . . . something or other. Maritime law, she said.”
“The Abandoned Shipwreck Act of 1987.”
Tim pointed at Naki. “That’s it.”
“What’s that?” Scout said.
Tim let Naki answer.
“Any abandoned shipwreck in park waters is under federal protection, managed by the national park. Not the state.”
“Including all artifacts,” Tim added.
Naki’s voice came low and steady. “The Penobscot Nation has a rightful claim to the gold.”
Tim jerked his head up. It should’ve dawned on him that Naki, whose career was in public policy, would have an eye on that gold for his people. How did he not see that coming?
From Scout’s expression, Tim could tell she was thinking the same thought. “I’m sure the superintendent will do the right thing,” she said.
Tim caught the flicker of skepticism on Naki’s face—he didn’t even have to say it: Not a chance.
Cynical? Maybe. But probably right. Tim had spent enough years in government to know that if the tribe had to petition the federal government for that gold, it would be tangled up in court battles for years. Naki knew that too.
Scout shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “So what now?”
“Back to work.” Tim stood, grabbing the paper and tossing it in the garbage can.
“And if any of you see Chase Fletcher near this office again, send him packing.” He watched the two of them file out, then his gaze dropped to the brass box.
So small yet so powerful. A churning started in his stomach.
He had no doubt the superintendent was angling to make sure that gold stayed in the park’s coffers.