E GATHERED AROUND the chest.

Behind it, the pit gaped like an open wound in the earth. The petrified cedar loomed just beyond, cupping our little band like a vast skeletal hand.

The full moon cast long, ghostlike shadows across the beach.

We huddled close, shocked into silence, barely daring to believe that our find was real.!!!We found Anne Bonny’s treasure. It really happened.

As the realization rocketed home, I began clawing away centuries of grime. Other hands joined mine.

The chest was dark brown, constructed of wooden slats nailed to a stout wooden frame. Thick metal banding reinforced its sides and corners. The top was domed, like a small coffin.

Wooden handles were nailed to both ends. A rusty latch and padlock secured the lid. Though clearly ancient, the chest looked rugged and durable, capable of surviving centuries underground.

“Good Lord!” Chance looked stunned. “An honest-to-god treasure chest!”

“Of course!” Hi laughed. “You thought we were digging to China?”

“It just hit me.” Chance ran both hands through his hair. “I mean, look! We just pulled a freaking pirate chest from the freaking sand!”

“I feel you.” Shelton’s fists were pressed to his temples. “I never thought we’d actually find something. It’s a whole different ball game now.”

Ben knuckle-rapped the chest. “Sturdy.”

“Test the lock.” I was too amped to say more.

“They built to last back then.” Ben tugged the padlock, but it didn’t budge. “We’ll need a tool of some kind.”

“Try this.” Hi tossed him a shovel.

Ben wedged the blade against the hasp and raised a foot to stomp down.

A voice rang out from the dunes behind us.

“Enough!”

Ben spun, shovel in hand.

I sprang to switch off the lantern, then crab-scuttled back to the chest.

Chance froze, uncertain, blinking to regain his night vision.

Hi and Shelton crouched, eyes wide with fright.

“Who’s there?” I called.

Before us was a short stretch of beach that led to the dunes. Behind, the snaking limbs of the dead cedar hemmed us in on both sides. Drifting clouds temporarily blocked the moon, keeping the beach dim and obscure.

A shadow moved toward us in the darkness. My heart thudded in my chest.

The clouds parted. Moonlight poured through.

I recognized a familiar figure.

“I won’t act like I’m not impressed.”

Chris Fletcher stood a dozen yards away wearing faded jeans and a dark CU hoodie. His hands were tucked into the sweatshirt’s front pouch.

“I’m serious.” His easy smile looked sinister in the pale lunar light. “People have searched for Bonny’s treasure for hundreds of years, but you actually found it. Bravo!”

“What are you doing here?” Stupid. It was all I could think to say. Chris’s unexpected appearance had frightened me badly.

“Just out for a stroll. You?”

“You already seem to know.” Ben’s tone was granite.

“True.” Chris’s blue eyes looked cold in the moonlight. “So maybe we can cut the bullshit.”

“Who are you?” Chance was clueless. “Do you work for the Refuge?”

“His name is Chris Fletcher.” Ben still gripped a shovel. “He’s a grad student at CU, works at the Charleston Museum.”

“Don’t forget my world-famous ghost tour.”

Given the circumstances, Chris’s levity was unnerving.

My instincts screamed in warning.

I caught Hi’s eye, motioned with a hand behind my back. He nodded, tugged Shelton’s sleeve. Together they inched backward around the pit.

I edged to my left. Chris’s eyes followed me, but he made no move.

“Listen up, Grad Student Chris Fletcher.” Chance’s tone was cool. “This is a private party, and you’re not welcome. Run along.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? Ben. Help me convince good ole Chris here that it’s past time he left.”

The two boys started forward, Ben still holding the shovel.

Chris pulled a Glock 20 semi-automatic pistol from the pocket of his sweatshirt.

The boys stopped dead. Ben dropped the implement and raised both hands.

Shelton gasped. My eyes fixed on the Glock’s muzzle, knowing its deadly power.

Chris spoke in a very low voice. “Get the picture now?”

Chance and Ben retreated a few steps.

“Good.” Chris craned his neck. “And tell the fat kid and his wimpy friend to stop sneaking around back there.”

I took a baby step left. Encountered a branch on its serpentine journey across the sand.

Go. Get help.

I was about to slip under the bough when something clicked in the blackness beside me.

Adrenaline pumping, I turned.

Sallie Fletcher faced me from across the dead limb.

Smiling, she motioned me backward with her own gun.

“They came alone.” Sallie slipped around the branch and walked to Chris’s side. “Just one boat, anchored near the northern point.”

“I expected nothing less,” Chris replied. “These kids are incredibly resourceful.”

Chance, Ben, and I stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the treasure chest. Hi and Shelton were behind, on the far side of the hole.

The cursed tree had us trapped. The only exit was straight through the Fletchers.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Let’s start with answers. How’d you discover Bonny’s escape route? Who told you to look in the Provost Dungeon?”

“No one. We figured it out ourselves.”

“It was you in the tunnels.” Ben’s voice sounded menacing, despite our situation. “You tried to kill us.”

Chris ignored him. “You just figured it out? Impossible. Sallie and I researched Anne Bonny for two solid years. All you did was swipe a worthless map.”

“Map?”

Sallie laughed. “Did you really think you could steal an artifact that easily?”

“I didn’t notice at first.” Chris sounded amused. “But something about you guys seemed … off, so I checked the case the next day. Guess what? No map.”

“Why didn’t you report it stolen?” I was genuinely puzzled.

“We couldn’t believe you swiped it.” Sallie shook her head. “The crime was so audacious, so reckless! You had to know something. We decided to wait and see.”

“Her plan.” Chris squeezed his wife’s side. “And it worked. Glad I listened.”

The situation was surreal. Our conversation was amiable, a friendly chat.

Except for the guns pointed at our chests.

“You guys are tough to follow.” Chris scratched his chin. “Boats. Cars. Pawnshops. It got overwhelming. Luckily, you came right to us.”

“The ghost tour,” Ben said sourly.

“You two suck at espionage.” Hi spoke from behind me. “Next time you tail someone, lose the bright red Studebaker.”

Chris’s brow wrinkled. “We drive a Prius, you dope.”

“The ghost tour business is a front, isn’t it?” I asked. “You used it as cover to search underneath East Bay Street.”

“Looking for Lady Peregrine’s roost.” Sallie nodded. “We knew Bonny’s tunnel had to be near the East Bay docks. But we combed the Provost Dungeon a dozen times, and never once noticed a loose stone. How did you know to look there?”

“What was inside the last chamber?” Greed hardened Chris’s voice. “How did you know to come to Bull Island?”

I held out a hand. “Give up the gun and we’ll talk about it.”

“You’ll tell us everything!” Sallie’s sudden anger was alarming. “We study and search for two years, find nothing, but you brats solve the mystery in one week? Impossible. You had help. Who? We know others are looking, too.”

Silence. No point in responding.

“Not knowing is killing me!” Chris said playfully. “When we lost you underground, I was sure you’d stolen our treasure. We almost didn’t bother plugging the bolt-hole, but Sallie convinced me to keep the faith.”

“Always trust your spouse!” Sallie blew him a kiss. “Thankfully, we’d planted a cell phone in your boat. That made tracking you easy. By boat, at least.”

Chris chuckled. “We even searched that ridiculous cabin top to bottom. Found nothing. It was very depressing.”

“You’ll pay for that,” Chance promised. “That’s Claybourne property.”

“Imagine our surprise tonight!” Chris was rolling. “I don’t know how you learned the treasure was out here, but thanks for doing the legwork.”

“Piss off!” Ben spat.

“Step away from the chest.” Suddenly, Sallie was all business. “And hand over the map.”

“We found the chest,” Chance said coldly. “By law it belongs to us. Even if you steal it tonight, we’ll get it back. Only we know how it was found. Good luck explaining yourselves when the police come knocking.”

“Shut up, Chance.” Hi was watching the Fletchers carefully. “These two are dangerous.”

“Your friend is smarter than you, rich boy.” Chris pulled back the slide on his Glock. “Maybe it’d be better if you disappeared. No competing claims that way, right?”

“Just one incredible tale!” Sallie’s teeth flashed. “Meet the fabulous Fletchers! Hear how they decoded an ancient map, discovered long-forgotten tunnels beneath our city’s streets, and found Anne Bonny’s lost treasure!”

“Fortune and glory,” Chris said. “Modern day Indiana Joneses. We’ll be renowned archaeologists before finishing grad school. Not to mention filthy rich.”

“People will search for us,” Shelton said in a timid voice. “Hundreds.”

“But not here,” Chris promised. “No one will ever connect Bull Island to Anne Bonny.”

“Admit it.” Sallie’s tone was taunting. “You snuck out tonight. No one knows you’re here. When your boat is discovered in Breach Inlet, everyone will assume you drowned after capsizing. One midnight cruise too many.”

“Sad,” Chris said.

“And look, honey!” Sallie pointed her gun at the gaping hole in the sand. “The kids were thoughtful enough to dig their own grave.”