Something Wilder(69)

“Oh my God.” Lily found it and pressed the power button. Neither of them breathed until the tiny satellite image loaded on the screen. They both whispered celebratory curses, and quickly high-fived.

“I think I understand Bradley’s love for gambling now,” he said, laughing. “Every tiny bit of encouraging news is like a shot of dopamine straight to my brain.”

“There’s not much battery left,” she told him, cupping a hand over the screen to block the sun. “The maps’ll take a second to load.” She pointed out toward the river. “Do you see those two really sharp switchbacks? At the confluence and then there, just above it?”

He followed her attention and nodded immediately. “They really do look like threes. But which bend is the ‘belly’?”

“We’re at the outside of the bottom of the three. I’m wondering if we need to be up there, at that sharp bend.”

He laughed. “You’re telling me we have to cross back over?”

Lily groaned. “I know. But it doesn’t look too bad.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “I don’t remember ever seeing anything there, but what else can we do?”

“We check it out,” he said. “Should we call Nicole and have her get on Google Earth? I know we don’t have much power left, but—”

Terry’s sat phone came to life in her hand, vibrating as a blur of notifications loaded, all for texts in a group thread called the Lost Boys.

They stared down at the screen. “Who are the Lost Boys?” Lily asked.

Leo shook his head. “No idea.”

“Some of these delivered today,” she said, uneasy.

Who was frantically trying to contact Terry in the middle of his supposed vacation?

She clicked to open the thread. There were four people in the group: Terry, who it became clear was using the handle Rufio, along with a Pockets, No Nap, and Latchboy.

“Peter Pan,” she said. But the conversation that loaded wasn’t messages full of concern. There were Game of Thrones gifs and dirty jokes, a few texts where Terry talked about the trail, and then some back-and-forth about Nicole and Lily…

“Oh,” she mumbled, grossed out, and scrolled past those quickly before Leo could see them.

Too late.

Leo jerked the phone from her hand. “What the—”

“It’s fine. He was a pig. This isn’t a revelation.”

She leaned her chin on Leo’s shoulder, reading.

“They’re talking about the trip,” he said, scrolling. “He was keeping someone up to date on where we were. Man, this is so weird.” He shook his head.

Three days ago—when the group’s plan changed—the texts turned more frantic.

No Nap: Rufio.

Pockets: Rufio, dude.

Latchboy: Terry where r u

No Nap: We lost your trail man, check in.



“Lost his trail?” Leo said. “What the fuck does that mean?”

She pointed to the date. “It’s from the day after he fell. His friends obviously don’t know he’s dead.”

Leo continued scrolling.

Pockets: Dude I thought we were busted that night at the roost. Where’d you go?

No Nap: TERRY, dude answer your phone.

Latchboy: He’s just gone, wtf

Pockets: Did you get the book?



Leo lingered on that text, his thumb hovering. “Are they talking about Duke’s journal?”

Anxiety climbed Lily’s spine and she reached around him, pushing the thread up, scrolling to read through the rest to see where it ended.

No Nap: Terry, let us know what we need to do

Latchboy: He’s not answering. Go with Plan B.

No Nap: Let’s meet where we planned. Roger on Plan B.

Pockets: Terry, I swear you’d better not be double-crossing us or you’re as dead as they are.

No Nap: Let’s move to a different thread. Fuck this dude.



Awareness landed like an explosion. They looked at each other, realizing they’d been taking their time the last two days, completely unaware that someone had been working with Terry, and been following them.

“I don’t understand.” But Lily was worried that she did, in fact, understand. They’d already known that Terry came to get Duke’s journal. But to think Terry had accomplices? That their group was being followed? A shiver ran through her when she remembered the cigarette butt, the rustling at night. She’d been so distracted by Leo and the possibility of what Duke had done that she’d let down her guard. “Son of a bitch.”

Leo shook his head, stunned as he read through the texts again. “They think Terry has double-crossed them,” he said. He looked up, and then scanned the vast canyon below. “Whatever plan B is, they could be anywhere.”

“If they were following us…” she said. “If there’s any way they know where we were headed…”

“Then they might have beaten us there,” he finished, turning to face her.

His eyes pulled to hers. The race was on.





Chapter Twenty-Five


IF THEY HAD been in a hurry before, it was nothing like this. The competitive fever that blew through them was palpable, turned Leo’s vision wavy as they scrabbled down the cliff. Ankles, knees, and elbows collided with rock and thorny brush—skin and joints be damned. They’d been through too much to lose, and knowing someone was on their tail—knowing someone else believed just as fervently that there was treasure to be found—lit a white-hot fire under their asses.