Chapter 31
We spent hours at the police station in Grand Rapids giving our statements. It was nearly dusk by the time we got back into
town, all of us climbing out of the Land Rover in my driveway like we’d been sapped of our vital life energy.
“Food,” Jazmine said. “Any food. I could demolish an apple right now.”
“Weed first,” Benny said. “Then apple.”
“My stash is depleted,” Seb told him.
“Backup stash?”
“Yeah, that’s possible, if we can find it . . .” Seb turned his key in the cottage’s front door and pushed it open. Punkin
darted outside and circled us, tail wagging in greeting.
Inside, the cottage was warm, but not warm enough for the air conditioner, so I opened up the windows and the back door to
the porch while the boys ransacked the basement for Seb’s backup stash. Our clothes were pretty dry after sitting in the police
station for hours, but I could still smell the chlorine. So I quickly changed into fresh shorts and a top, and strolled into
the kitchen to find Jaz invading the fridge.
“Gotta let Daddy know we’re back,” she said. “He’s going to want us all to come over there.”
“Then give it a few before you call,” I said. “I think we all deserve to sit down for a minute. Stress melted my brain. I need to reset.”
“I hear you,” Jaz said. “Where’s your orange juice?”
I pointed to the side door and watched her down half the juice container, not bothering to get a glass. “Hey, Jaz? You okay?
I mean, Paul-wise.”
One of the first things that happened when we all got to the police station was Paul getting booked for violating his parole.
Which was glorious to see—at least for most of us. But almost as sweet was watching what happened to Lulu: she had a bench
warrant for her arrest issued by a judge back in Kalamazoo—failing to appear in court for shoplifting charges—and got booked
alongside Paul. The last we saw of them both was them being hauled off to different parts of the station in cuffs.
Benny snapped a pic for posterity.
“Does it hurt that someone I opened up to could betray me so easily?” Jazmine mused. “Yeah, it does. But it’s been over for
a while. This was just the universe making sure I wouldn’t be tempted to go back to him.”
“Not tempted, then?”
“Not tempted,” she confirmed, taking another slug of orange juice while the boys cheered triumphantly from somewhere in the
basement, presumably having found what they were looking for. Jaz looked toward the door, smiling to herself. “Benny was pretty
amazing with the security system hack, huh? I watched him do it, and you’ve never seen fingers type so fast. It was impressive.”
If Benny hadn’t done it, we might not be standing here.
My father had kitted out his entire house in cameras like he was some kind of international arms dealer.
Those trust issues came back to bite him in the ass, though, because they were able to pull all the footage—of me showing up at the house, of him signing the paperwork, and him locking me in the bedroom.
Now he faced aggravated kidnapping charges and extortion, and had to post nearly half a million in bail. Right now, he was
locked in a jail cell—at least, until he could get the funds together. He might be millions on paper, but we overheard the
police laughing about his cash flow.
Anyway, in the morning I had a meeting scheduled with an attorney. I had no idea how hard it was going to be make charges
stick, or how much testimony I’d need to provide. I didn’t even know if I’d be safe once he made bail.
Would he come after me? Would Big Burg send Paul after they let him out?
I didn’t know.
But there were a couple of small bright spots. I still had the Harvard paperwork that he’d signed before he went psycho on
me—it was damp from the pool but still legible. And the police had recovered my phone; I’d get that back tomorrow, hopefully.
If not, I’d brick it and get a new one.
And on top of that, we were all safe. At least, for now. And that was enough.
“Want to chill out back? Grab a soda for me, will ya?” Seb asked as the boys headed out to the porch. “Benny’s ordering Pete’s
Vegan.”
“Thank God,” Jazmine said as we followed them outside.
The horizon above the lake was streaked with magenta as the sun fell.
Everything felt magical at this time of day—past golden hour, not quite night.
The painted sky. The quiet surf rolling in from the lake.
I crossed the back porch, where Benny lounged on the porch swing.
Jaz joined him, taking over his phone so she could pick out what food to order.
And I took a seat on the porch steps, hugging my knees as I watched Seb throwing a gnarled frisbee to Punkin.
Everyone content, at least for the moment. And a perfect picture, if I’d ever seen one.
Nana sure would’ve loved to see this, that’s for sure.
“Yo,” Benny said from the porch swing. “I know we just got back, but we’re going to need to figure out what to do now. Because
even if we don’t run into any more trouble from Lulu and Paul—”
“If?” Jaz said. “That’s being generous. I’d say we’re on borrowed time.”
Benny frowned at her. “I’m just saying, no matter what happens, our treasure hunt is pretty much at a standstill because they’ve
still got Mabel’s rings.”
Right. That pesky little detail. I’d forgotten all about the rings today. Well. Mostly. There was that moment when I was having
a mental breakdown and on the verge of death, diving into my father’s pool from a second-story balcony. Something still niggled
about that. I’d forgotten something. What was it . . . ?
“Can’t open a lock if you don’t have a key,” Benny pointed out.
“True,” Jazmine said. “Especially hard when you don’t know where the lock is.”
“Maybe we should put the treasure hunt on the back burner,” Benny said. “Just until we find out what’s going to happen with
Paul and Lulu. Because I don’t think any of us need to even consider trying to get the rings back.”
“No one’s going back in that compound.” Jazmine then shouted toward the beach, “You hear me, Jansen? That means you.”
Seb looked up and jogged back to the porch with Punkin trailing. When they were almost to me, Punkin stopped near Mr. Legs and peed.
“Again?” Seb asked. “That’s about five times since we got home. How much water did you drink while we were gone?”
The dog looked up at him, red Frisbee firmly held between her gnarled front teeth, and for a moment, the last rays of the
sun beamed over the beach, lighting up both Punkin and Mr. Legs with the most spectacular shade of orange.
It almost looked like they were on fire.
What had that woman Katie said, when we were in the Neelys’ hallway, looking at Nana’s painting?
The eyes really jump out at you with those orange irises.
It felt like being hit with lightning.
As close as I’d probably ever come, anyway.
“My God!” I said as Seb stopped in front of me, chest heaving from running around the beach with Punkin. “MY GOD!”
“Yes? I’m here, my child,” he joked. “What does thou needest from thy Lord?”
“Mr. Legs!” I said, standing up. “It’s Mr. Legs!”
He squinted. “Huh?”
I scrambled toward the old tree-trunk sculpture, nearly tripping over the bottom step, and then again when Punkin veered in
my way. Seb followed, and then the other two Wags.
I stood at the base of the sculpture, looking up at it in the dazzling, fleeting light that shimmered as the sun dropped into
the lake.
Mr. Legs’ eyes looked like they were on fire, just like Nana’s painting.
They were carved deeply, the circular ruts that defined the heron’s eyes.
The perfect size to fit a pair of rings.
“The eyes!” I said as everyone ran up behind me. “The rings go inside the eyes!”
We stared up at the heron, and one by one, everyone made noises of surprise.
“Is it possible?”
“How would it work?”
“Are you sure?”
Seb put a hand on Mr. Legs. “Only one way to find out. Move.”
Before we could stop him, Seb grabbed the base of the sculpture—the part that was still an old tree truck—and hoisted himself
up, climbing it like a monkey trying to get a coconut.
“Be careful!” I called up to him.
“Fucking splinters,” he complained, but he made it to the head of the heron.
We stared up at him. “What do you see?” I asked. “Is it just the sculptor’s style choice, or . . . ?”
He shifted his grip and peered into the bird’s eyes. “Holy shit! You guys—she’s right! Something fits inside the eyes!”
Our combined cheer echoed around the beach. I looked behind us, paranoid that Paul and Lulu might show up out of the blue.
But we were still alone. Thank God.
“If we only had Mabel’s rings,” Jazmine lamented.
Right. Can’t open a lock without a key. A little disappointment weighted my chest as the reality of this truth brought me
back down to earth. As close as we kept getting to the treasure, it remained eternally out of reach.
Maybe that was just the nature of treasure. It was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that you could never quite get to, even if you believed with your entire heart that it existed.
“Come on down,” I told Seb. But he continued peering at the eyes and muttering to himself. He fished around in his pocket
and pulled out something that he fiddled with for several moments, cursing under his breath.
“What’s going on up there?” Benny asked.
I called up, “Hey! We’re talking to you! Yoo-hoo!”
“Um, guys?” Seb said as if he hadn’t heard us. “I think we were wrong about Mabel’s rings.”
What? “No!” I whined.
“You just said—” Jazmine started.
But Seb cut her off. “Paige! Tell me you’ve got your decoder ring.”
Decoder ring . . . ? My hand flew to my neck, where the old Blackbeard decoder ring hung on its chain. I couldn’t make sense
of how our rings could unlock the heron. They were from the 1940s. Wyrd Jack was long dead.
But Mabel wasn’t. And as we’d learned this summer, Mabel was the one who hid her husband’s smuggled treasures.
“We had the real rings the whole time!” Seb gripped the sculpture with both arms and looked down at me “Throw yours up here!