Chapter 2

The girl’s name was Clara Hayes.

She had grown up in the diner.

Her father had owned it until he disappeared eighteen years earlier.

Unlike Daniel, Clara had never been given an explanation.

No body.

No final goodbye.

Only an empty room and a letter.

She had kept that letter in a wooden box beneath her bed.

Daniel knew none of this.

Not yet.

He only knew that something about the compass had unsettled her.

“Can I see the photograph again?” Clara asked.

Daniel hesitated.

Then handed it over.

Clara stared at it.

She turned it over.

Her fingers stopped.

There was a tiny mark in the lower corner.

A pine tree.

She whispered:

“Wait.”

She disappeared into the kitchen.

Daniel heard a drawer opening.

Then another.

Clara returned carrying an old envelope.

Her hands were trembling.

“What is that?”

“My father left it for me.”

She opened it.

Inside was a photograph.

Daniel’s breath caught.

It was the same photograph.

Exactly.

Same diner.

Same angle.

Same image of Thomas standing outside.

Same pine-tree marking in the corner.

Daniel looked from one photograph to the other.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“You said you’ve never heard of my father.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then why did he give you this?”

Clara shook her head.

“He didn’t tell me who the man was.”

She unfolded the letter that had been inside the envelope.

The paper was yellowed with age.

She read aloud:

“Clara,

If someone ever brings you this photograph, don’t ask him who he is.

Give him the key.

He will know why he came.

The truth is beneath the floor.

Trust the one who seeks answers, not the one who seeks the treasure.”

Daniel stared at her.

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’ve had this for eighteen years?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve never opened the floor?”

“My father told me never to.”

Daniel looked toward the wooden floor beneath the counter.

“What made you think I’d ever come?”

“I didn’t.”

Clara folded the letter.

“My father apparently did.”

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Daniel finally asked:

“Did your father ever talk about a treasure?”

Clara looked at him.

“Only once.”

“What did he say?”

“That if anyone ever found what was hidden in the mountains, they would wish they hadn’t.”

Daniel looked at the photograph again.

“Then I think we’re supposed to find out why.”

Clara reached beneath the counter.

She pulled out a small iron key.

And placed it in Daniel’s hand.