“Don’t worry. I’m not about to send Nancy Drew to juvie because she got carried away.”
Rick let the herringbone pattern on the rich hardwood floor serve as a way to focus his thoughts. He’d worried Alex would someday go too far. And yet, he hadn’t found a way to reel her in. He looked up at Adam. “She was trespassing. A jury would find her guilty of breaking-and-entering.”
“Whose side are you on?” Adam tugged on his right ear. His green eyes locked onto Rick’s. “Do you want me to send her to jail? Sure would make Baker happy.”
“No! That’s not what I meant. I just can’t believe you stood up for her after our disagreement.”
“She made a mistake, Rick. She’s still a child—something I think you sometimes forget. She needs to learn some impulse control, and, to be honest, I think what she did has a lot to do with the way she was raised.”
Rick bristled at the implication. “So my parenting is to blame for her curiosity?”
“That came out wrong. What I meant was, she had an absentee mother and a father who worked his tail off as an investigative journalist. You taught her what it means to be tenacious and to never give up on a story. The impulse control, however, is just her being a kid.”
Rick swallowed hard and stared at the floor again. His brow creased as the memories of what they’d been through came rushing back. “You’re right, Adam. I do forget at times. Alex had to grow up way too fast. I worry about her so much and when she does something like sneaking aboard that boat after I told her to stay away—it just rips me apart.” Rick stopped, closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath. “If you can figure out how to instill some impulse control in her—I’m all ears.”
“This is the single guy talking, buddy. Maybe it’s only a phase. You know, like dolls or…that kind of stuff.”
“I don’t think waiting for her to lose interest in crime is going to be very effective, but I don’t have a better solution so I’ll cross my fingers and hope for the best. In the meantime, I’m sorry to hear about Baker. I was hoping for your sake that she’d work out. Are you pulling her from the investigation?”
“Pretty much have to. She wouldn’t be around for a trial, so I’m taking over. You said something about not having been able to let go. Did you find anything?”
“Not something, but maybe someone.” Rick described the process he’d gone through, how he’d checked the social media profiles of the passengers and crew, discovered only Matthew Redmond, Heather Sanna, and Eli England posted with any regularity, then brought up Christopher Jenks. “If he really is taking photos all the time, that record could be as good as—maybe even better than—security footage.”
“You’re right. He could go places where people wouldn’t expect a camera, but what’s that going to prove?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he caught a couple of them conspiring to revolt. I think it’s worth a try.”
Adam steepled his fingers, letting his eyes dart around the room as he seemed to consider their options. Just when Rick thought his friend might disagree with him, Adam tilted his head toward the door.
“Let’s go talk to him,” Adam said. “We might get lucky and the man with the camera saw something that will help us.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Alex
ALL THE TREASURE hunters are talking now, except for the one closest to me. His name is Matthew, and he’s totally different. All the others talk and complain, but he’s super quiet. The tattoo guy has a habit of cracking his neck a lot. He’s kinda scary ‘cause he reminds me of a bad guy in those old movies my dad likes. He talks in a loud voice, like he’s used to telling people what to do.
“What about it, Matthew? You getting cold feet?” the tattoo guy asks.
The guy named Ed puts his elbows on the table and totally gets into Matthew’s space. He sounds super ticked off. “No way. You can’t back out now. We already gave our statements to that deputy.”
I guess that’s more than Matthew can take ‘cause he explodes. “Shut up, Ed. The only reason I went along is because you shot off your big mouth to cover yourself.”
“We all agreed to say we were together.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I changed my mind.”
“I’m not about to go back and tell her I made a mistake, Matthew. You’re in this whether you want to be or not.”
I look at Marquetta. She cocks her head toward the table. I get it. We’re gonna keep listening.
“I don’t need trouble with some small-town chief of police. For that matter, neither do you,” Matthew says.
“Look at you, going all moody on us again,” Ed says. “You better get your stuff together. If the cops find out you suffer from depression and that the good captain suckered you out of your last dime, you might find yourself on the other side of those prison bars.”
“Screw you, Ed.” The man grumbles something to himself, then stands up. “I’m tired of taking your crap. You’re always acting like you’re so high and mighty. I’ve had enough. At least with the cops I know where I stand. I’m out of here.”
He walks by and doesn’t even look at us, but it’s like there’s a cold chill that follows him around. That dude is super angry—and scary.
“What do we do about him?” Ed asks the tattooed man.
“He’ll sink himself. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Guys would come in, try to drown their sorrows in a bottle, but all the time they’re just digging themselves in deeper. Matthew’s in a down spiral and probably won’t get past it until he crashes and burns. I’ve seen some of them make it out. Others, not so much.”
“It’d be a shame if he offed himself over this,” Ed says.
I look at Marquetta, but instead of saying anything, she motions for me to keep listening.
The tattooed guy takes a sip from his cup, then leans forward and lowers his voice. “Forget about him for now. Did you get it?”
“I got it,” Ed says. “Took me a little while to crack the password, but I got in. Lemme tell you, it’s a lot of data. It’s going to take time to process. There was a lot more in the GPS than I thought. By the time I’m done, we’ll have the coordinates.”
Coordinates? Did I hear that right? I totally want to ask what they need coordinates for. Could it be the San Manuel?
The tattooed man asks, “You’re sure it will lead us to it?”
“There’s no guarantees. If that treasure is for real, and if Carroll found it on a previous trip like he said, it will be on this list. We have to figure out a way to get a boat outfitted for a dive without having to share this. If we have to give away a few percent here and more over there, next thing you know we’re down to almost nothing for ourselves. Let’s get going. We’re running out of time.”
Both men stand. The tattooed man, the one named Isaac, walks right by me, but the other one, Ed, stops and stares at me.
“Hey, Isaac! This is the kid the cops busted on The Treasure King. What are you doing here, kid? Are you following us?”
My jaw drops. I push my chair back from the man towering over me. Then I feel Marquetta’s hand on my arm. “Stay where you are, Sweetie.” She stands and faces the man. She’s shorter than he is and he totally weighs more than Marquetta, but she doesn’t look concerned. “Here’s the thing about small towns, Mr. Silverstein. Everybody knows everybody. The police chief and I grew up together. And if there’s one thing I can tell you about Adam Cunningham, he hates child abusers. Come to think of it, they take a dim view of them in prison, too. I suggest you join your friend and leave. Right now.”
The man named Isaac comes back, grabs his friend’s shirtsleeve and pulls. “Come on, Ed. There’s no need to stir up the locals. Sorry for the misunderstanding, Miss.”
“Fine.” Ed follows his friend toward the door. I can hear him complaining about small towns as they leave.
Marquetta falls back into her chair and takes a deep breath. “Oh my God, that was awful!”
“No! It was awesome! You totally shut him down.”
Mrs. O’Donnell comes to stand next to Marquetta and refills her cup. “This young lass is correct, my dear. You were incredible.” She winks and smiles at Marquetta. “You make a fine mother.”
With that, she turns away, leaving me and Marquetta looking at each other. My eyes get all watery and I sniffle.
“What’s wrong, Sweetie?”
“Nothing. It’s all perfect.” I get up, walk around to her side of the table, and wrap my arms around her. Between another couple of sniffles, I manage to say, “I just realized how great of a mom you already are.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Rick
RICK SAT IN front of Adam Cunningham’s desk staring at the stark walls of the police station while Adam talked to the District Attorney’s office in San Ladron about a warrant for the surveillance equipment on The Treasure King. So far, it didn’t sound like the conversation was going well. In fact, it all reminded Rick of the argument about the chicken and the egg.
“Yes, ma’am,” Adam said quietly. “No, ma’am. But if we can get a look at the surveillance footage we might be able to determine who actually stole the speargun.”
Adam winced as he listened. He shook his head, sighed, then said goodbye.
“The bottom line is no warrant. She says once we have the murder weapon and can prove it came from the boat, we can get the warrant. Otherwise, we’re on…as she put it…a fishing expedition.”
“Ouch. If we can’t get a warrant, we definitely need to find Christopher Jenks. His photos could be critical.”
“Don’t get your hopes too high. We don’t have any idea what’s in those photos.”
Rick chuckled. “Marquetta and I are always telling Alex to believe in herself. I think it’s about time I trusted my own instincts. Something tells me those photos will help us break this open. So, how do we go about finding this guy?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. Baker got his number during her interview with him. Let’s find out where he is.” Adam turned his attention to his computer screen and began typing. A few seconds later, he clicked the mouse, then pulled out his cell phone. He dialed, introduced himself when Jenks answered, and explained the reason for the call. When he finished, Adam said, “We’re meeting him at the lighthouse. It appears Mr. Jenks is taking photos as we speak. Let’s go.”
It took only a few minutes to make the drive in Adam’s police cruiser. They parked in the scenic overlook lot, which contained two parked vehicles. Rick pointed at the nearest one. “I recognize that car. It belongs to a couple staying with us. They’re from Oregon. Nice people.”
As Rick and Adam got out of the cruiser, a family of four appeared on the trail. They had two small towheaded boys who bounded forward only to be recalled by the mother. It was almost like a repeating game of tag with the boys jumping forward, then returning.
“Those two have lots of energy,” Adam whispered.
“I assume you’re talking about the kids,” Rick chuckled.
“Oh, yeah. Mom and Dad look happy, but bedraggled.”
“I have an idea.” Rick walked quickly toward the parents and waved. “Mr. and Mrs. Hope—I see you’re checking out our local sights.”
“Rick, I almost didn’t recognize you outside of the B&B. What are you doing out here?” Mr. Hope asked.
“We’re looking for someone. A man near the lighthouse taking photos.”
“He about scared me to death,” Mrs. Hope said.
“Oh, Rachel, don’t be so dramatic. The guy was hanging out over the edge trying to get a good shot of the lighthouse. That’s all.” Her husband cocked his head back along the path. “He’s around the first bend where the path goes near the cliff.”
Rick and Adam exchanged a quick look, said thank you, then hurried toward the lighthouse. The bend in the trail was less than a hundred feet from the parking lot, and there, on the opposite side of the safety fence, was Christopher Jenks. He was lying down with his chest on the ground, his shoulder over the edge of the cliff, and his cell phone held out in front of him.
“Mr. Jenks,” Adam called. “Can you come back on this side of the fence, please? That cliff you’re on can be dangerous.”
Jenks sighed and made a face, but stood, came back to the fence, and climbed over. “I was only trying to get a better shot.”
“I understand,” Adam said. “But the town put this fence up because there were a couple of accidents out here.”
“Do you take all of your photos with your phone?” Rick asked.
“The best camera you own is the one you have with you.” Jenks smiled. “I heard that once and thought, the guy’s right. I could be a photographer, too. I love nature, but capturing people when they’re not expecting it is kind of a thing with me.”
“Do you take photos everyday?” Rick asked.
“Try to. I’ve got this app. It encourages me to shoot, and then it takes a photo from each day and creates a video composed of one-second clips. At the end of the month, it’s a cool way to remember what happened.”
Adam stepped back and cocked his head toward Jenks a couple of times. Rick got the message. It was his cue to keep asking questions. “Have you been shooting on The Treasure King, too?”
“It was a little weird at first, but they all got used to it. It’s funny how people don’t notice someone with a camera these days.” Jenks grinned. “I got some good ones.”
“I see. We’re investigating the death of Captain Carroll, and we’re trying to reconstruct what happened since The Treasure King departed Long Beach.” Rick shot a quick glance at Adam, hoping he wasn’t about to overstep. “We also have questions about the alibis you and Mr. England gave.”
Jenks swallowed hard and his tone turned serious. “So this is an official visit? Didn’t think you two came out here for the ambience.” He forced a laugh, looked around, and his gaze settled on the path to the lighthouse. “Plenty happened,” he said absently.
Interesting how he skipped over the comment about alibis, thought Rick. They’d definitely have to press that subject later.
Stepping forward, Adam said, “Mr. Jenks, I’m Chief Cunningham. Let’s talk about those photos. Would you mind sharing the ones you’ve taken from the past few days? They might help us to get a handle on…the dynamics involved.”
Jenks laughed. “You mean who hated who, don’t you, Chief?”
“Hate is a strong word, but we are talking about murder. Would you mind?”
“We could really use your help,” Rick added.
Jenks looked down at his phone. After a short hesitation, he said, “I don’t mind helping out, but I need a charge. My phone’s down to just a few percent on power. Unless one of you can get me plugged in, you won’t get much.”
“Adam, the B&B’s not far. I could walk with Mr. Jenks, and you could meet us there. We can get him plugged in while we have some tea.”
“Got any joe?” Jenks asked. “I need a good caffeine fix.”
“No problem. My…” Rick hesitated, suddenly realizing he was no longer sure what to call Marquetta. “My cook makes some of the best coffee in Seaside Cove.”
“Really.” Jenks regarded Rick with one raised eyebrow.
“It’s true,” Adam said. “Take it from someone who drinks a lot of coffee.”
Rick and Christopher Jenks walked to the B&B via the lighthouse path. The trail, paved with decomposed granite in the section they currently walked, ducked inland through the trees. Deep shadows cast by tall firs and pines shielded the path from sunlight.
“Gets chilly in here,” Rick said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“You live in a pretty great place,” Jenks said.
They stepped into the clearing. Before them, the lighthouse stood looking far out to sea.
“Wait.” Jenks stopped, pulled out his phone, and stepped back into the trees. He snapped a quick photo, gave Rick a half-hearted apology, and then asked Rick to lead the way.
“We just follow the trail. Come on.”
The meandering path edged closer to the cliffs before it tucked inland. Eventually, the decomposed granite trail terminated near the back yard of the B&B. As they approached the house, Rick saw Adam at the French doors leading to the kitchen.
“We can go in the back way.”
Jenks stopped. “Wait. I need a picture. Make that a dozen.”
“Thanks,” Rick said. It seemed like a nice compliment—unless it was a way to stall.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Alex
ME AND MARQUETTA are walking by Marina Park when Marquetta stops. She crosses the grass like she’s been hypnotized or something. I ask her if she’s okay, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. The only thing she seems to want to do is look at something down on the docks.
I reach out and touch her fingers. She looks down at me, takes my hand, and smiles.
“I think I’m ready,” she says.
“For what?”
“To read Captain Jack’s letters.”
“What letters?”
Marquetta’s chin puckers and she looks like she’s trying to figure something out. “Before he died, your great-grandfather wrote letters to me and my mom that tell us why my dad didn’t wait for better conditions to sail. They’ve been kept secret for all these years.”
My heart is pounding ‘cause I want to be there when she reads them, but I’m afraid she’ll want to be alone. I’m not sure if I should even ask. I’d totally want Marquetta there if someone wrote a letter like that to me.
All of a sudden, she’s kneeling next to me and her eyes are all watery. “I thought I’d want to do that alone, but I want you there with me.”
“For real?”
She nods.
I throw my arms around her neck. “I totally want to be there!”
She gives me another hug, then stands and takes my hand again. “Come on. Let’s break into your dad’s office.”
The B&B is quiet when we walk in the front door. We don’t hear any voices. There’s nobody sitting in the living room. My dad’s not around, so maybe he’s up in his office. I run upstairs and knock, but there’s no answer. When I get back downstairs, Marquetta is standing behind the front desk looking super tense.
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