He stopped at the hutch on the opposite side of the couch from me, picked up an old, broken Wenger watch off the shelf, and, after a quick inspection, slid it into his pocket. Nice. He had the manners of a head louse. He was aware we were watching him, and he didn’t give a damn. Or was it a running joke between him and Hunter? I took yours, and now you must take it back sort of game.
Tom’s foot bumped the pot on the floor, two books piled on top of it serving like a lid. Hunter had placed them there to stop Monday from trying to fish coins out of it. If Tom discovered gemstones and gold coins, he wouldn’t leave or take us back until we gave up everything.
Tom looked down.
Cold sweat rolled down my back.
“About a month ago I got shipwrecked here during a storm,” I said loudly, pulling Tom’s attention to me.
“Shipwrecked? That’s wild,” he said, forehead wrinkling, and continued his patrol around the room.
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yep, something you don’t hear every day. Hunter nursed me back to life.”
Tom glanced at Hunter, his teeth sinking into the smirk on his face. “Mate has a caring heart and tends to care for sick people.” The way he said that didn’t sound like a compliment. “Where are you from originally?” Tom perused the titles of the books on the bookshelf near the bed. Was he going to steal one of them, too?
“Miami, Florida. I was scattering my father’s ashes in the South Pacific.”
“Alone? That’s a long journey from Miami.”
“I chartered a boat in Australia. My captain died in the storm.” I caught Hunter’s eyes and tilted my head slightly at the pot, rounding my eyes, trying to communicate with him that we should wrap it up and go.
“Shit, that sucks.” Tom walked to the table and narrowed his eyes, scratching his unshaven neck. “What’s this?” He reached for the papers where we had old charts with numbers and letters. And now we were screwed. He lazily fingered through the journal, pausing on the page with a sketch of this island. Multiple ideas about where the treasure could be penciled in all over it, including the bat cave but not the black rocks or the secret grotto.
Tom pulled the chair out and sat as if he was in no hurry to leave. His pose was relaxed and lazy, his legs stretched out, showing off black-painted toenails. “This is what you have been doing while hiding from me all this time?”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Hunter said. The sweat glistened above his eyebrows and on his temples. He looked more drawn than ten minutes ago. “Sydney and I are trapped here.”
“What is this?” Tom tapped his finger on the journal.
“Just some ideas.” Hunter swallowed. Too visibly.
“We should probably go.” I pulled the rucksack off the top of the bookshelf and set it on the couch, flipping the top open. My mind tried to gauge how to take the coins and gems with us and not leave them behind. “Look at Hunter. He is not well. He needs immediate medical attention.”
As if he didn’t care (which, of course, he didn’t), Tom continued flipping through the notebook, finally stopping at the sheet with a drawing of the coin his uncle found. Edward’s artistic talent impressed me before, but now I wished he didn’t have it. Tom sat upright, his undivided focus on the journal in his hands. “The compass Edward lost to Spencer had numbers on the back. Did you figure them out?”
It became clear that Tom was in the loop about Edward’s treasure hunt. Either he was part of Edward’s crew, which Hunter forgot to mention, or he searched on his own, or he just happened to be present when Edward gambled away the compass to Spencer. Which one was it?
“You know what they are. They are coordinates.” Hunter kept his voice light, but sweat soaked the T-shirt on his back and around his neckline. I was unsure if he too was worried or if he felt unwell again.
“Then why do you have them in the tables with letters? What are these sentences?” He dropped the journal and lifted the smaller notebook. A coin slipped out and clanged on the floor, spinning. My breath vanished, and I bet the color of my face matched Hunter’s. Tom reached down and picked it up, and brought it to his face, his eyes going wide.
“I thought you found nothing?” Tom’s tone was cold, and he shot us a cunning glance.
“It’s Edward’s,” Hunter and I lied in unison.
“Edward gambled the ones he had.” Tom’s fingers curled around the gold. “I think you both are full of shit, but we can continue this conversation while on our way to Rarotonga.” His face rearranged into a sham of delight. The tension in my muscles let go (a bit). He was taking us to the main island. “You don’t look very good, Hunter. Once you get better, we can search for the gold together. But I’m keeping this.” Tom pocketed the coin and picked up the journals and notebooks.
“Why are you taking these?” Hunter asked, taking a step to the table.
“You wouldn’t want to leave these here while you are gone, would you?” Tom said, screwing up his features with a mocking concern. “What if the wrong hands get hold of them?” I had a feeling that the wrong hands already held our notes in their iron grip.
“Of course not.” Hunter’s smile was as taut as a string about to snap and hit someone in the eye. Ideally, Tom’s.
“Good. Pack your shit, and I’ll see you at the beach.” Tom quickly exited and descended the stairs.
Hunter made a move to leave, too. “Come on, we don’t need to take anything with us.”
I grabbed Hunter’s arm. “Wait,” I hissed and jerked my head to the pot. “What about that?”
