“A stone inscribed with strange symbols,” Dane said. “The message was translated as ‘Forty Feet below two million pounds are buried.’ Its authenticity is questionable, though.”
“I have more evidence than that,” Avery said. “Accounts no one else has seen. I know there’s something down there.” She turned to Dane. “That’s why I need to see your father’s research.” She held his gaze. “I’m not a quack treasure hunter. This has been a scholarly endeavor for me from the start. My colleagues haven’t taken me seriously, but I’m right on the verge of proving them wrong. I’ve got everything I need to publish except…” She fell silent and looked down into her half-empty mug of beer.
“Except proof,” Dane said. Avery nodded and looked up at him again. Dane saw the pleading in her eyes. “I don’t want to get your hopes up,” he sighed. “I’ve been through Dad’s papers, and there’s nothing there. But I’ll take another, closer look. If there’s anything at all that might help you, I’ll give you a call.”
“I suppose that’s as much as I could have hoped for,” Avery said glumly. “Thanks.”
Dane went out of his way to avoid looking at Bones. He knew what his friend was thinking, but Bones was wrong. This was not the beginning of another of their crazy adventures.
Chapter 4
The door to his parents’ vacation cottage overlooking Mahone Bay felt heavier than usual as Dane pushed it open. Sensing his mood, Bones and Angel slipped past him like shadows to their respective rooms. At Bones’ suggestion, they’d seen Avery home safely before returning to the cottage for the night.
For a moment, he considered leaving his father’s research where it lay and telling Avery he’d checked, but the coward’s way out was not for him. This reminder of his parents’ death was something he’d have to face.
In the kitchen, he slid the microwave oven from its cabinet and grinned. Leave it to his father to ignore the seascape painting in the bedroom, where any normal person would hide a safe, and put it behind a kitchen appliance instead.
He opened the safe and withdrew a fat envelope. He hadn’t touched it since shortly after the accident. Leaving the safe open and the microwave on the counter, he moved mechanically to an armchair by the fireplace, and emptied the contents of the envelope onto the coffee table.
It was much as he remembered: printouts of articles, scans of documents, and a thick sheaf of notes written in his father’s elegant, yet masculine hand. He let out a low chuckle as he recalled, as a teenager, trying to imitate his father’s signature on a bad report card, only to be forced to own up to the bad grades and the failed forgery.
Along with the stack of research, a smaller manila envelope held brochures of museums and other pirate-related sites his father had visited, and loose bits of paper with notes jotted on them. Last was a small, leather-bound print of Edgar Allan Poe’s story, The Gold-Bug. Fitting, he thought, as it told the story of a search for Captain Kidd’s treasure. He turned it over, surprised to discover that the book looked brand new. This was not some old volume his father had taken notes in. He opened it to the middle and flipped through a couple of pages, then turned it over and gave it a shake in case anything was hidden inside, but no luck.
He set the book aside and started with the pile of research. The first several papers were various Kidd biographies, peppered with handwritten annotations. He read through them and found nothing new or unusual, certainly no references to Oak Island or the Money Pit.
He laid them on the table, rested his elbows in his knees, and buried his face in his hands. This was a waste of time. He was putting himself through this for nothing. In fact, he’d been foolish to stay here at all, where reminders of his father were everywhere and his presence seemed to hang in the very air. The weight of an unbearable burden of sadness pressed down on him. He should have stayed in the travel trailers Crazy Charlie had set up for the crew, and where Willis, Matt, and Corey were bunking.
He sensed movement behind him and a pair of gentle hands rested on his shoulders. He looked up to see Angel smiling sadly at him, sympathy shining in her eyes. She kept her silence and, for that, he was grateful. He gave her hand a squeeze and indicated that she should sit down.
She dropped into the other armchair and picked up the papers he had been examining. Understanding dawned on her face as she scanned them.
“This can’t be easy for you. I remember when my grandmother died. Seeing to her affairs and taking care of her things wasn’t so painful for me. That just felt like work. It was the personal things, you know. Letters she’d saved, pictures of me she’d written my name on. It was all too… real.”
Dane nodded.
“I can do this for you, Maddock. There’s no reason you should have to dredge up painful memories.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been avoiding this place and these papers for years. Besides, I told Avery I’d do it.”
“How about some help? Two of us can get through it faster than one.”
“All right.” He shrugged. “You know what we’re looking for: clues to a treasure on Oak Island. I don’t think a document old enough to be a clue from Kidd himself would have escaped my notice the first time I went through this stuff, so keep an eye out for anything that looks like a scan or copy of something older.”
They set to the task, working in companionable silence. Occasionally, Angel would call his attention to a mention of treasure or the island, but they found nothing like what Avery was looking for.
The night wore on and he found that, the deeper he delved into his father’s research, the more academic the endeavor became. His malaise melted away as he focused his thoughts on the subject. It was interesting, but shed no light specifically on the Oak Island mystery. By the time he finished reviewing his share of the material, he found himself eager to take a look at the rest. Angel, too, was eager to keep going.
When both sets of eyes had passed over every paper, he was forced to admit defeat. Whatever Avery was looking for, had it even existed, was not here.
“Sorry, Maddock.” Angel gave him a quick hug.
“Thanks for getting me through it. Avery’s going to be disappointed, but it was a pipe dream anyway.” He gathered the papers and returned them to the safe, but held on to The Gold Bug. Perhaps a bit of pleasure reading would help him relax.
Retiring to his room, he dropped down on the bed, opened the book, and froze. There, on the first page, was an inscription from his father. The date was December 25 of the year his parents died. This was to have been Dane’s Christmas gift. They had lost their lives only a few weeks before the holiday. His father must have written this shortly before his death.
Dane,
I know you think my search for a pirate’s treasure is a fool’s game. Perhaps, by the end of this book, you will wish to join me on this adventure.
Dad
He closed the book, dropped it on the floor, and turned out the light. He’d always, perhaps a bit childishly, believed his dad’s pirate research to be something from which Dane was excluded. But now… He rolled over and stared out the window, his mood as black as the night.
Rodney cursed and shifted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable sitting position. He was battered and bruised, and was pretty sure he had at least one fractured rib. He’d get his revenge on that Maddock guy, but that wasn’t foremost in his mind at the moment.
He’d only caught snatches of the conversation Avery had with those jerks, but he’d heard enough. Captain Kidd had a treasure and he’d hidden the clues in old chests. Now, the treasure bug had bitten Rodney, and he was determined to be the one to find whatever it was Kidd had left behind.