He was about to head toward the Spyhopper when he spotted a shadowy figure only ten feet or so away.

“Marina,” he hissed.

She looked around her, startled, before noticing Rio and darting over. “You’re here,” she whispered. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to do it.”

Rio could scarcely believe it himself. But he was here. And he was ready.

He glanced at the paper bag she was carrying. “I was just getting some more food,” she explained. “Shall we . . . shall we do this?”

Carefully, the pair of them made their way to the jetty where the Spyhopper was moored under the gaze of the lighthouse.

The rainbow flag fluttered in the ocean breeze, and with a small jump, Marina hopped on board. Rio passed the backpack to her and then followed suit.

“We made it,” she whispered, her eyes glittering in the dark.

“You made what?”

A light flickered on, and Birch stood on deck, glaring at them.

31

Caught

“Marina?” Birch asked in a voice as deep as thunder. “What are you doing?”

“D-Dad!” Marina stuttered. “I thought you’d gone out for the evening?”

“I had. But I forgot my wallet, so I came back to get it,” he replied. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

As Marina flapped her hands uselessly by her sides, Rio stepped forward. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I . . . I wanted to see the ocean at night, and Marina said she’d take me. For an adventure.”

“An adventure?” Birch repeated the word slowly, rolling it under his tongue like long-lost treasure. “Well, you’d best come inside and tell me all about it. And don’t forget to bring your luggage with you too.”

With that, he swung open the cabin door. Rio exchanged a quick worried glance with Marina and then stepped down into the cabin.

With no bright daylight to fill the spaces, there was a completely different feel to the room. Dark and shadowy, a place full of mystery where the faintest whisper of danger hovered in the air.

Guiltily, the pair of them sat down on a cushioned bench. “What do we do now?” Rio mouthed to Marina while Birch reached for the jar of hot chocolate powder. “I don’t know!” she mouthed back.

“The trick with hot chocolate is always in the preparation,” Birch said, striking a match and then lighting the stove. “That’s the same with life. Be ready for anything. Even the unexpected.” Nothing more was said while the milk bubbled, and Birch poured it into his mug, the chocolaty aroma coiling its away around the cabin.

After taking a satisfying gulp, Birch wiped his whiskers and then looked from Marina to Rio and back to his daughter. “So tell me about this adventure of yours.”

“It was my idea!” Marina announced. “I said we could pretend to be pirates hunting for missing treasure!”

“Missing treasure you say?” The side of his mouth curled up. “So . . . nothing whatsoever to do with a missing whale, then?”