Page 94 of All Along The Watchtower

My hands shook as I turned to the last entry.

Compared treasure maps in museum archives, as well as to the other maps made by Hillary in the gift shop. All match except one location, which does not fit the art style of the rest of the map.

Why would Hillary mark something different? What if she didn’t? What ifhedid? What if X doesn’t mark treasure at all? What if it marks information/evidence, and the map accidentally got mixed up with the batch destined for the museum gift shop? Maybe that’s what they were arguing about when I saw them at school.

I frowned, trying to process what Peyton was suggesting. “It’s a huge leap.” Surely my thirteen-year-old hadn’t just solved the motive for a murder that had been stumping police for weeks. It was just that she had a big, active imagination. Then again, kids sometimes saw things adults missed, their minds not yet trained to dismiss the improbable.

“Except someone broke into Pop’s place looking for something. And remember, he was insistent that she needed to be kept safe. We didn’t know why. What if they stumbled on all of this while they were doing their treasure hunt?” Bree insisted. “People knew the two of them were working on this map. If she’s right, this location could lead to the reason David Galef was murdered.”

And if someone was willing to murder Galef over that information, they likely wouldn’t bat an eye at adding to the body count. The idea of it made me break out into a cold sweat.

“The location is remote by island standards, but it isn’t far.” Willa’s finger traced the path on the map. “We can check it fast, just in case. Everyone else will continue the grid search.”

It still felt like a long shot, but it was action. In this moment, I needed to move like I needed to breathe. And if there was even the remotest chance that this was real, then I had to follow up.

“Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 43

BREE

The beam of my flashlight swept across the ground, barely more than a red glow through the filter I’d attached. I hadn’t asked why Daniel had a collection of them in his pocket. Every step had to be careful, deliberate. The last thing we needed was to alert anyone to our presence.

Sand shifted beneath my feet as we picked our way toward the coordinates Peyton had indicated didn’t fit. The storm was dying down, but thunder still rumbled in the distance.

“There.” I pointed to a cluster of rocks ahead—one of the few spots on the island where they existed naturally. Most had been brought in over decades for various building projects.

Ford surged forward, but Sawyer grabbed his arm. “Slow. We don’t know who might be watching.”

He nodded, forcing himself to match our measured pace. As we drew closer, my heart sank. A hole gaped in the sand near the rocks, maybe two feet deep. Empty.

“Dammit.” Ford dropped to his knees beside it, hands fisting in the sand. “They’re not here. Where the hell are they?”

I crouched beside him, studying the churned-up sand around the hole. There were traces of footprints, but the storm had already begun to erase them.

“Where now?” The desperation in his voice cut straight to my heart. “What do we do?”

“Hey.” I gripped his shoulder. “These maps are never exact, you know that. The coastline’s constantly changing. That’s why following old treasure maps is almost impossible. This isn’t the only potential location.”

“We don’t even know if they’re following Peyton’s lead.”

“They must be. Think about it. She hid that map for a reason. If she claimed to know where this evidence is hidden, that’s leverage. That’s what’s keeping her alive.”

I winced at the fear that flashed across Ford’s face.Way to go, Bree. Remind him there are more reasons his daughter might be in danger.

“I’m sorry, that was a terrible thing to say.” I grabbed his hand. “But your kid is smart and resourceful. Look at how she made it here from Oregon all on her own.”

He squeezed my fingers, taking a shaky breath. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”

We all hunched over the map together, studying the faded markings.

“Wait.” Willa leaned in, pointing to a formation marked on the paper. “I think I recognize those rocks. They’re past Pelican Inlet, maybe another quarter mile from here.”

“You sure?” Ford’s voice held desperate hope.

“Pretty sure. There’s this weird formation that looks like a fish if you catch it at the right angle. Not many spots like that on the island.”

Ford was already on his feet, but I caught his arm. “We stick together this time. No splitting up.”

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