“Scout,” Naki said, “where are the car keys?”
“In my jacket pocket,” she said.
He reached into her pocket to retrieve the keys, then took off at a run, leaping from boulder to boulder, retracing their way from the jeep.
As she watched him disappear, a thought struck her cold: He had the gold, the keys, and a getaway car. He could leave her stranded here—helpless, pinned to the rocks as the tide swallowed the coastline. No one would ever know. She could die here.
Another wave crashed over her, this one colder, heavier, drenching her to the bone. She gasped, sputtering as salt water dripped from her lashes. The damp fabric of her uniform clungto her. She shook her head, trying to regain her bearings, and felt the slip of her pink ribbon just before it vanished into the wind. Her hair tumbled free, sticking to her face in wild, wet strands.
She wanted to cry. Not from the cold, not even from the relentless sea battering her, but from the sheer frustration of it all. She swiped at her face, shivering as another wave crashed against the rock. The tide was rising. She was trapped.
And Wabanaki Dana was nowhere in sight.
Text conversation between Scout’s mother and ... herself:
Mother
I’ve narrowed it down to alove seat. Practical and chic for a small area.
Nofloral prints,don’t worry. I found an elegant beige. Very ranger-y.
It doesn’t show dirt,in caseyour coworkers tromp in with muddy boots.
Thinking I mightget the matching ottoman. Or is that too much?
Honestly,Magnolia Pearl,what can be more important right now thananswering your mother’s questions about decorating your cottage?
Fine. Silence speaks volumes. I’m ordering it.
Seven
The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.
—Jacques Cousteau, ocean explorer
Growing up in the South, Scout wasn’t accustomed to how fast the Atlantic Ocean in Maine rose when the tide swept in. Down there, the waves came in slow, rhythmic patterns, just gentle laps. Nothing like Maine’s aggressive, unpredictable surge. Every few seconds, a wave smashed against the boulders, sending cold salt water splashing against her. Scout kept tugging at her wrist, trying to break free, but she was in a very awkward position, and the sharp rock edges scraped her skin, each movement only worsening the pain. She could feel warm blood trickling from the cuts. Panic gnawed at her, but she tried not to let it take over. Shivering, she felt as if her heart was beating too fast. There was no time to waste. She needed help. And fast. And there was no sign of Naki.
Calm, calm, calm.She had to think clearly, had to get out of this situation. One thing she had learned to expect in the great outdoors, don’t expect the cavalry to come.Figure it out, girl.
Radio.
Duh!Just as she reached up to her radio’s shoulder mic and groped to find the emergency distress button, she heard her name over the crash of the waves against the rocks below her. She twisted her head and blinked through the dimming light. Naki appeared, moving carefully along the slick, wet boulders. His flashlight cut through the growing darkness, its beam sharp and focused as it swept across the boulders. Finally, he reached her and crouched down.
“You came back!” She was so relieved she could’ve melted into a puddle. Not melted. Froze.
His head jerked up. “Of course I did.” He set the flashlight down and pulled out a tub of Vaseline, lifting the lid with quick efficiency. “This should do the trick.”
“Where’d you find that?”
“It was in the jeep. I remembered seeing it and thinking it was an odd thing to keep in a car.” He bent over the edge of the boulder and tried to reach his hand into the crevice but quickly gave up. “I can’t get close enough to your wrist. You’ll have to use your other hand to rub the Vaseline around your wrist. It’ll ease the friction so you can wiggle free.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“What if both arms get stuck?”
“Just trust me.”
