When they reached the picnic spot, they set down their backpacks. After drinking some water and surveying the view, she slowly pivoted, taking it all in. Her vision tracked past a large tree—

She noticed something she hadn’t expected to see. The letter F had been carved into the trunk. “Luke.”

“Yeah?”

She approached the tree and gestured to the carving. “Do you think this F is for Finley?”

“Maybe.”

The F was about two inches tall. The lines that formed it had been cut deep, straight, sure. “Dad was good with pocketknives. Whittling was one of his hobbies. But if this is a clue, why did he use an F here instead of the symbol he used on the map?”

“Maybe because any stranger could have come along, seen that symbol, and done what we did—look it up.”

“At which time, they’d have realized the symbol meant treasure.”

“And then they might have started digging.”

“And made off with my treasure. So, instead, he left my initial. If someone saw an F here, they’d shrug and go on about their business. I see carvings in trees when hiking and never think twice.”

Luke cocked his head. “Is he telling us to dig under this tree?”

“I don’t know.” She scanned the area. “Look.” Another F, carved into a different tree. “And look.” Yet another F carved into a third tree.

“There might be more.”

They parted, searching for additional carvings on trees.

They couldn’t find any others.

Coming back together, they faced their backs to the view and considered the three trees.

“They form a triangle,” Luke said.

He was right. Two of the trees stood to the left and right of the picnic spot, near the cliff. The other grew exactly between those two, but sat farther back. “He drew three trees on the map and the treasure symbol right in the center of them.”

“He’s helping us pinpoint where to dig.”

“Yep. Where does the center of the triangle fall?” She glanced back and forth, positioning herself in the middle of the three points. “Here.”

“Is that approximately where you and your dad sat that night?”

“As far as I can remember, this is precisely where we sat.” The wind blew a strand of hair against her lips.

Luke followed the motion, his attention dropping to her mouth.

Warmth flushed across the skin of her chest, neck, face. There was much that had gone unspoken between them. But this—their physical chemistry—was a mighty communication all its own. It was as if their souls and bodies had already settled on things their words had not.

She tugged the piece of hair away, sliding it over a shoulder. “I say this is where we dig.”

“I agree.”