“Let’s think this through.” Pressing to his feet, he began to pace. “I do not want to dig up—”

“—a Fabergé egg?”

He snorted. “I don’t want to dig up a valuable treasure of any kind in broad daylight. Anyone could see us. But if we go after dark, it’ll be hard to hike through the woods.”

“We’ll need to arrive when there’s still some light left because the GPS might not be precise. It might take me a while to visually confirm whether the GPS led us to the place I remember.”

“So we’ll get there shortly before dark,” he said, “and start digging after dark.”

“I agree.”

“The quicker we get in and out of there, the better. We’ll be digging on state property.”

“I’m not a fan of disturbing nature. We’ll replace all the dirt and pine cones and everything, right?”

“Right.”

“I can work on trying to drop a pin onto a digital map,” she said.

“Okay. I’ll get supplies.”

“Once those two things are in order . . .”

“We’ll be ready to claim the treasure.”

Immediately after ending the call, Finley began adjusting the dimensions of an online map of Vogel State Park until Dad’s map lined up with it exactly. The treasure symbol appeared to fall in the middle of a wooded area removed from trails and roads.

The map Dad had drawn was a game changer. Had he given her a clue simply directing her to return to where they’d shared the sunset picnic, she’d never have been able to find it. He’d been driving that day. When they’d left the lake, she’d paid no mind to the roads he’d taken. After they’d parked, he’d searched for a viewing spot using nothing but his compass and instincts.

At the time, the path he’d taken had been untraveled. But it appeared he’d traveled that path a second time when he’d returned to the spot of their picnic to leave her the final gift in a lifetime of gifts.

On Sunday, they parked at six thirty p.m. on one of the roads curving through state park land.

Finley surveyed the items in the back of Luke’s truck with admiration. He’d brought two shovels and two bulky high-beam flashlights with square faces. Two headlamps. Two backpacks. Bottled water, granola bars, nuts, apples.

She’d done her part by dropping an electronic pin into Google Maps on the projected location of the treasure. Then she’d sent that pin to her phone. She planned to lead them on a straight course from here to there.

Luke’s T-shirt rode up when he reached forward to draw the gear closer to them, revealing the side of his hard, smooth abs. Lord, have mercy.