The Winner's Game(98)

Each time he uncovers one of them, Bree giggles or snickers. By our third false alarm she mumbles, “Getting closer.”

A few minutes later Mom and Dad come to check on our progress.

Cade proudly shows them the bottle caps he’s found. “More for your collection,” jokes Mom. “I hope Bree isn’t sending you on a wild-goose chase.”

“It’s here,” Bree reassures us. “It won’t be long now.”

From the corner of my eye I see Dad casually reach out and take Mom’s hand in his. “Well, we’re going to head up the beach for a while,” he says. “Just for a walk. Ann, you’re in charge. And you two, no getting wet until we get back.”

Cade goes back to work immediately, swinging the metal detector in his normal back-and-forth motion, making sure not to miss any spots in front of him. Within just a few minutes of my parents’ departure the alarm goes off, and this time it’s much louder than with the bottle caps. Bree is biting her lip, which is a good sign.

Cade and I both kneel in the sand and start digging furiously. At eighteen inches down I find the buried item: a tin Christmas container with a poinsettia-shaped lid.

“I found it in the attic,” says Bree before we have it fully unearthed. “I didn’t think Grandma Grace would mind.”

“No, she won’t,” I tell her. “She’ll love that you put it to good use. When did you bury it?”

“Last night. I snuck out after everyone was asleep.”

“That’s awesome,” says Cade.

Bree is beaming.

When Cade finally lifts the tin out of the sand, he shakes it twice, trying to measure its weight. “What’s in here? Air?”

“Just about,” Bree giggles. “Open it up.”

Cade holds on to the bottom as I use both hands to lift off the lid. Inside is another tiny piece of paper from Bree’s spiral notebook.

Nice work, Pirate, almost there! (The treasure isn’t buried here.) Go due north for thirty paces, then head west until you face the base of the giant rock of hay, for there your treasure lies today!



“The base of Haystack Rock,” I blurt out.

Cade is already two steps ahead. “Hurry up!”

At thirty paces we all pivot toward the ocean and march straight ahead to Haystack Rock. The inbound tide has already made significant progress; waves are lapping against the rock by the time we get there.

“Do you want to give us a hint where to look?” Cade asks Bree.

“Nope. You’ve got to use your metal-finder thingy.” She glances briefly at the ocean. “You might need to hurry, though. Pretty soon the water will be too high. Or you can just wait until tomorrow.”

“No way. I want to find it today.”

Me too…but there’s no way I’m getting any closer to that water. “Well, you’re on your own, then,” I say as I begin backing away from the remnants of a wave that is chasing my feet on the wet sand. “Come show me when you find it.”

Not wasting any time, Cade goes right to work, waving his wand along the base of the rock. Periodically, Bree warns him of a big wave rolling in, and then they both go running. It doesn’t take long before the only chance Cade has to search is while one wave is going out and before the next one comes in. During one such lull, the detector’s alarm sounds with such fury that I can hear it from where I’m sitting. Bree gives a little hoot, all but confirming that he’s found it.

Cade is careful to keep an eye on the spot as another wave chases them back up the beach. As soon as it retreats, he sets down the metal detector and makes a run for it. He jumps down and starts digging, but he’s not fast enough.

“Another wave is coming!” Bree shouts.

“I’ve almost got it! Just a second!”

A few seconds later she yells again, “Cade! Get back!”

Right before the wave hits him, Cade grabs on to a small outcropping on Haystack Rock. The freezing water pours over his skinny bare back, but he holds tight.

After it passes him, Cade stands up in the thigh-deep water, still holding on to the rock. He gives a little victory shout, followed by a quick yelp.

I follow his gaze inland to see that the previous wave is now speeding back out to sea, like it’s being sucked through a straw. There is no stopping it…and Cade is in its path.

“A sneaker wave,” I gasp, recalling the label my Dad gave them. They sneak up on you…and take you back with them.

As the momentum of the water pushes seaward, Cade loses his grip.

My first worry is that he’ll be slammed against the rock, but then I see him moving away from it in the surf. For a lightweight, Cade is a pretty decent swimmer, but against the fury of the currents he is driftwood, getting tugged and tossed in the foam.