A six hundred-foot freighter overtakes Whiskey Tango Foxtrot as Willa motors toward the entrance to the Port Colborne harbor, the black steel hull rising up beside their small boat like a wall. Willa’s breath catches in her chest as the sailboat dips and bobs on the wake that ripples out from the colossal ship. Gulls cry and swoop in the wake, snatching at fish churned to the surface by the powerful engines. From the rear deck, a crew member waves down at Willa and Taylor.

“That was amazing,” Willa says, at the same time Taylor says, “That was terrifying.”

Willa would be lying if she said she wasn’t afraid of being run over by a freighter, but she feels better when the next ship sounds its horn to indicate it has seen them. Ahead, docked inside the mouth of the canal, is yet another cargo ship, already waiting its turn to go through the locks that bypass Niagara Falls. Their boat looks like a toy in comparison.

“I don’t want to go into a lock with one of those things,” Taylor says.

“We won’t,” Willa says. “Freighters have priority, so we have to wait until they’re through the first lock. We’ll probably go with some other recreational boats.”

“None of this sounds fun.”

“I have a feeling it’s going to be hard and tiring, because we have to keep the boat from hitting the wall of the lock . . . and there are eight locks,” Willa says. “But no one we know has ever done anything like this.”

Taylor laughs. “Yeah, because no one wants to do this.”

“Finley did.”

Taylor sighs. “Couldn’t we just dock here and take a bus to Niagara Falls? I mean, the Welland Canal isn’t one of her clues, and the one about time travel could mean the Erie Canal, couldn’t it? It’s really old.”

“Do you honestly think that’s what she meant?”

“I don’t know! I hate that she’s not here to tell us! I hate these stupid clues! I hate that she’s dead!” The second ship overtakes them and the boat rocks, throwing off Taylor’s equilibrium. She sits down hard on the cockpit bench, tears trickling down her cheeks. “And I really fucking hate freighters!”

A giggle escapes Willa. She clamps a hand over her mouth, but it’s too late to hold back. Gales of laughter roll out of her until tears are leaking from the corner of her eyes. Until Taylor starts laughing. Until Willa’s sides ache. Until the freighter is past and Willa raises both her middle fingers at the back of the ship, yelling, “And I really fucking hate freighters!”