The Secret Treasure

My grandfather, a famed storyteller and writer, raised me after my parents died. He stopped writing when Grandma passed, and for two years, I helped him run his bookstore. Four months ago, he died suddenly—even though he was healthy—and nobody knows why.

After the funeral, I found his unpublished manuscript, The Secret Treasure, in his desk. I’ve kept it displayed behind glass as “The last book by Daniel Cibale,” but every day I'm tempted to read it. I wonder why he never shared this story with me—and today, it's all I can think about.

I awoke to shattering glass, grabbed scissors and my phone, and rushed to the store—only to find the burglar gone and the lock picked. Amidst the broken glass, my grandfather’s book was missing. I sprinted upstairs, reviewed the security footage I’d installed two nights ago, and saw the thief break the glass case with a rock and walk out clutching The Secret Treasure.

I rewind the footage in an attempt to catch an image of the thief. The moment I pause, it's right when the thief's face is visible, and I do a double-take.

“Trever Longe,” I mutter, calling him. He doesn’t answer at first—probably knows I’m onto him. I call again.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Ashley Cibale… from college.”

“Ashley! Wow, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Not great. You took something of mine.”

“The book? Yeah, sorry—not yours though. It’s your grandfather’s, and I’ve been trying to get it for weeks.”

“So it was you breaking into the store. I need it back, Trever.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“You stole from me, and you want a reward?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“Fine. But I’m not telling you until you bring it back.”

Pause.

“Okay. Deal.” Click.

By the time I leave my room and head downstairs, there are a handful of upset customers outside. I never open the store late, and these people seem to know that.

“Sorry, everyone, but the store is closed for the next week!” I’m gonna need at least a week to recover from this situation. Plus, I don’t think my customers would be delighted to know that the store was broken into. “So sorry for the trouble, everyone. Have a nice day!” After a few moans and complaints from the handful of people surrounding the entrance, everyone is gone, except for one person…

“Hi, Ash.” Trever—tall and handsome as ever—smirks. “You look… pissed.”

“You’re here fast,” I snap.

“Couldn't get far—someone caught me.”

I glare. “You owe me a new bookcase.”

He holds up the book. “You still owe me for returning it.”

I gesture. “Let’s clean this glass first.”

We spend 30 quiet minutes sweeping up broken glass—neither of us speaks. Once we finish, I go sit in the lounge area, and Trever follows me, sitting right next to me.

“I can get you a new case if you want. After all, I guess it's the least I can do.” Trever gives me a smile that I haven’t seen in years. I didn’t realize how much I missed looking at his face.

“Why did you do it?” I ask. The last thing I want to think about is how I’m gonna get a new bookcase. “I mean, I know you were obsessed with my grandfather, but why steal the book?”

In college, Trever and I had an unspoken situationship. He read my grandfather’s books obsessively, so I ended it.

He says, “I thought you knew… rumors say your grandfather’s final book reveals how he died.” I’d heard the rumors but avoided them—when someone you love dies, why dwell on it?

“Can I have the book back?” Again, ignoring his statement, I reach out my hand, waiting for Trever to give me the book.

Trever ignores my hand, saying, “Come on, Ashley. Don’t you want to hear what I know…”. What I know… What does he know? Do I want to know?

Hesitantly, I ask, “What do you know?”

“I know how your Grandfather died”. I stare at Trever blankly. How could he know how Grandpa died? No one knows how he died. “At least, I think I might be onto something.”

“Well then… Please share.” I settle deeper into the couch, cross-legged and facing Trever.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he says, pulling out his phone. “But a month after he died, I couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it was—no one knows how. So I started digging.” He fiddles with his phone, then hands it to me. “This is what I’ve got.”

I glance at a note in his phone: details on the last place my grandfather was seen, who was with him, possible untraceable substances that could’ve caused his death.

“Wow. This is… impressive.” I’m stunned. Trever has spent three months investigating my grandfather’s death, and I had no idea.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hand his phone back. “You knew how much he meant to me.”

Trever looks down. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. We haven’t talked since the breakup, Ash.” Now, neither of us can meet the other’s eyes.

“That's not entirely true…” Yes, I thought Trever’s weird obsession with my grandfather was unattractive, but I still missed him. Sitting in his presence, I think I still do.

Trever ignores this and continues explaining his evidence. “The last person I talked to was Daniel’s friend, Bill Parson, and he told me he thought that Daniel’s last book might help me out.” This didn’t make any sense to me. How would Bill Parson know anything about the death of my grandfather? And if he knows something, why hasn't he told the police?

“I reread The Lost Tomb but found nothing—then realized it wasn’t his last book.”

“So you stole this one?” I ask.

“Yeah…” Of course, it was Trever—no one else would want the book like I do.

“Did you find anything?” I flip through it.

“Didn’t check. Got busy stealing it.” He smirks. I hand it back.

“Let’s look together.” As he skims, a piece of paper falls out. I grab it.

“What is it?” he asks. I unfold it—it's a map.

“Oh my God, Bill was right,” he whispers.

“I can’t read it,” I say. Trever studies it, then nods.

“How are we supposed to figure it out if we can’t read it?” We sit in silence, thinking.

Eventually, Trever says, “I might have an idea.” I wait for him to continue. “I think we should go see Bill Parson.”

“But you already talked to him.”

“I know, but he’s the one who told me about this book, which means he might know something about this map and how to read it.” After this explanation, it seemed like a solid idea, given the information we already had.

“Okay then. Let’s go.” Trever puts the map back inside the book, and I follow Trever to his car, and we drive to Bill Parson’s house.

It took us about 30 minutes to get to Bill’s house. It was practically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by vegetation, with vines crawling up the sides of the house. We get out of the car, walk up to the front door, and knock.

“Who is it?” a voice calls.

“Mr. Parson? It’s Trever Longe—we spoke about Daniel Cibale.” Silence. “We found the map.”

The door opens. Bill, tall and wiry in his late 70s, eyes me warily.

“Who’s this?”

“Ashley Cibale—Daniel’s granddaughter.” I meet his cold gaze, uneasy.

“Your grandfather spoke of you. Sorry for your loss,” he says flatly.

“Can we come in?” Trever asks.

Bill nods. We follow him to the kitchen and sit. He offers drinks.

“No thanks,” we reply together. Bill sits across from us.

“So…you found the map?” Bill directs this question to Trever, but I answer, and Bill changes his focus to me.

“Yes. It was in the last book my grandfather wrote, but he never published it.”

“Yes, I know.” I give Bill a questioning look, and he continues. “Your grandfather wrote that book while we were away together.” For months before he died, my grandfather and Bill had gone on a vacation together, at least that’s what Grandpa told me. He died the night they came back.

“I assume that means you know what it was about.” Trever poses this question to Bill as I take out the map tucked inside the book.

“I don’t know for certain, but I believe it was about the mystery he convinced me to join him on.”

“What mystery?” I ask.

Bill hesitates, then explains: four months before his death, my grandfather told him about a treasure hunt they began in college, researching a pirate legend.

“Did you ever find it?” asks Trever.

Bill eyes the map on the table.

“This is the map from the book?”

“Yes—we hoped you could decipher it.” Trever and I watch him nervously.

After looking at it for a couple of minutes, Bill says, “The farthest Daniel and I got was to this point here.” Bill points at an image on the map of a leaf. It was the last image before the picture of a chest.

“How come you guys never made it here?” I point to the chest.

“I think… someone else knew what we were looking for and wanted it for themselves.” Trever and I look at each other the second Bill finishes this statement.

“Do you know who?” We turn our attention back to Bill.

“No idea. I’m not even sure if they ever did get there. On our way there one night, Daniel and I heard footsteps behind us.” Bill looks at us with a bit of fear and confusion in his eyes. “I don’t know how it would have been possible exactly, but I think whoever this person was is the one who killed Daniel.”

“Well then, we have to find him!” I jump out of my chair, waiting for everyone to follow me, but neither of the two moves.

“There’s no use; whoever it was is long gone now.” Bill gets up and makes his way to another room, leaving Trever and me alone.

“I’m sorry,y Ash. I thought this would work.” Trever stands up and places a hand on my arm.

“It’s okay.” We stand there awkwardly for a while until Bill comes back into the room.

“You know, it might be worth it to go back there and see if anything is still there. Like I said, I’m not sure if whoever was following us ever found the location.”

“You know where it is?” I ask.

“Yeah, I can take you.” I notice now that Bill has changed his clothes and put on sneakers, holding a pair of car keys in his hands.

“Okay,” I look to Trever to confirm we are on the same page. He gives me a slight nod. “Let’s go.” Bill leads us out to his car and drives us to the last location on the map.

When we get there, we all exit the car and follow Bill to the mark on the map.

“Here it is.” Bill leads us right to the opening of a rocky cave, not too far from the beach. Me and Trever enter looking for a chest.

After a while of looking, Bill calls out from deeper in the cave. “Come look at this!” Me and Trever follow the sound of Bill's voice. When we reach him, he’s standing in front of a wooden chest wedged between two rocks. “Do either of you want to do the honors?” Bill looks between the chest and me and Trever.

“You should do it,” I tell Trever. “You’ve been looking for answers to my grandfather's death longer than I have.”

“Okay, then.” Trever walks up to the chest and squats down in front of it. He opens up the chest and looks inside.

“What’s inside?” I ask. Trever says nothing, so I walk up and stop right behind him.

“There’s nothing.” I look inside and he’s right. There’s nothing but an empty chest.

“I’m sorry you two…” Bill says. “I guess whoever was following us did find the gold,” Bill says.

“I guess so,” Trever adds. Without another word, the three of us head back to Bill’s car. On the way back, Bill is a little further up than the two of us, so I take the chance to speak to Trever.

“I don’t trust this guy,” I whisper, glancing up at Bill a ways ahead of us.

“What do you mean?” Trever asks.

“First of all, I just get a weird vibe from him, and don’t you think it’s a little weird how he knew exactly where the gold should have been. He said they never made it that far, but if they never made it, how would he know?” Trever stops walking; I stop too.

“But, he said, they knew where it was. They just got caught before they could get there.”

“Okay, true, but he went straight to the back of the cave, like he knew that was where the chest would be.” I look at Trever, waiting for him to see what I’m seeing.

Finally, Trever says, “He also said that whoever was following them found ‘the gold’, but we don’t know if that’s what was in the chest…”

“Trever, it might be a long shot, but are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I wait for Trever to answer, but Bill calls out from ahead of us.

“You coming?” Bill calls as we walk back to him outside the cave.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” I say.

We leave, pile into the car, and head to Bill’s house.

It’s dark when we arrive, and Bill leads us inside to the living room. “Would either of you like any tea or water?” Bill asks us while waiting in the doorway.

“I’ll have some tea,” Trever says. I shake my head and insist I don’t want anything, but 10 minutes later, Bill comes back with two teas and places them down in front of us.

“Mr. Parson?” I ask.

“Yes?” Bill looks up at me while he sits back in his chair

“What did you and my grandfather do after you guys realized you were being followed?” Bill takes a few seconds to think before he responds.

“I drove us back here, to my house, got us some drinks…talked about what had happened…why?”

“Just wondering…” I say. Trever gives me a look that says What are you doing, but I ignore it. “So then, after that, my grandfather stayed here with you all night?”

“Not all night…after a while, I took him back home and I came back here,” Bill says. “That was the night he died.” Trever jumps in. He gives me a look, so I know he is on the same page as me now.

“Yes, I think it was.” Bills says, leaning forward in his seat, with his head in his hand. When I look at his face, he is missing the sorrow and sadness that I expected to see.

“I’m sorry, Bill, but I think we should get going. It’s getting late.” Trever stands up ready to leave, but I stay seated on the couch.

“You have the gold, don’t you?” Bill looks up at me now, anger spread across his face.

“I had a feeling you knew…” he says. “I heard you two discussing it on the way back.” I guess me and Trever were talking louder than we thought.

“Where is it?” Trever asks. For the next couple of moments, I don’t hear what is going on. While Bill is distracted talking to Trever, I pull out my phone and dial 911.

When I focus back on the situation in front of me, Bill is now standing up and looks like he is about to make a run for it.

“Why did you do it?” I ask. Now all three of us are standing.

“Your grandfather didn’t deserve that money. He didn’t need it.” The angry look on Bill’s face still hasn't left. “He was the most well-known writer in town, maybe even in the state. He had gotten what he wanted a long time ago. Now it’s my turn.” Bill makes his way out of the house and through the front door. Me and Trever race to follow him out, but the second we step foot outside, the police are already there.

Bill is arrested. In a haze, Trever answers police questions while I wait in the car. We return to the store and sleep. The next day, police find the gold and thallium hidden in the tea Bill gave us, likely also killing my grandfather. The morning after, I wake up on one couch, Trever on another, and open my grandfather’s book.

When I flip open the book, I open it to the dedication page. It says: To my granddaughter, who listened to every one of my stories.

“What is it?” Trever comes over to look at the page I have open. “Oh, wow, Ashley…that’s amazing.” Trever sits next to me as I continue flipping through the pages. We spent the next hour reading the book until I put the book down.

“Thank you, Trever. I have you to thank for all of this.” I look up at Trever and smile at him.

“You know, we make an okay team.” I nod in agreement. “Well, I should probably get going.” Trever gets up and starts walking to the door.

“Wait!” I call out and run up to Trever and give him a hug. “Thank you again, Trever,” I say into his chest.

“No problem.” Trever smiles at me and heads to the door. “Also, don’t let me forget to get you a new bookcase,” he calls and walks out the door. I spent the rest of the day reading my grandfather's book.