Page 105 of Your Every Wish
The three of us get out of the car and huddle with Bent about the game plan.
“We should wait for Misty,” Emma says. “She’ll know exactly where it is.”
Bent tries to hide a smirk but fails miserably.
“Don’t you dare. If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have ever gotten this far,” I say in defense of Misty. She may be a fake, but she’s our fake.
“I’m not questioning it.” He raises his hands in acquiescence. “If it wasn’t for Rudy Rodriguez, I’d still be digging a well on my property.” All three of us give him a blank stare. “I forget you’re not local. Rudy’s our resident dowser.” More blank stares. “A water witch, someone who can find water by walking your property, using a divining rod. It has something to do with the spirit world and water magic. Hell, I don’t know. But it works. If you want to wait for Misty, we’ll wait for Misty. But tell her to get the lead out, time’s a-wasting.”
Emma starts to call Misty when we see her coming up the road.
“Can we start now?” Bent asks, impatient.
I open up the notebook to Willy’s riddle. “ ‘In the shade of towering pines, a cedar stands tall, its presence defines. Beneath the dry stacks, where courts reside, my gift to my neglected daughters is tucked inside.’
“Over there, by the cedar tree,” I say and watch him climb up on his excavator, noting for perhaps the millionth time what a good-looking guy Bent McCourtney is. That is, if you go in for the whole cowboy-working-big-machinery kind of thing, which I don’t.
He starts up the excavator and begins knocking down the rock wall one row at a time, like they’re Tinkertoys. It’s so loud that I worry about waking the neighbors.
My palms are sweaty even though it’s fifty degrees outside and I can feel my pulse revving like a Mack truck. I glance over at Emma and her face is as white as the snow up on the mountains. The Sierra got its first big dump yesterday.
I sidle up next to her. “Are you all right?”
“Just nervous, I guess.”
“Yeah, me too. Are we doing the right thing?”
“It’s too late to stop it now.” She nudges her head at the rock wall that’s already halfway torn down and takes my hand. “We’re either going to be rich or deeply disappointed.”
But I’m not so sure about the disappointment part. As much as I need the money, I’m starting to wonder whether I’d be better off without it. The idea of always having to look over my shoulder, always having to worry that I’m spending ill-gotten gains, always waiting for law enforcement to burst in my door is giving me second thoughts.
Emma’s right, though, it’s too late now. We’ve set this whole thing in motion and there’s no turning back. Besides, can you even undo a wish? Aren’t wishes set in stone (excuse the pun)?
I focus on Bent, who appears to be a master at wrecking things. Excavators are not my area of expertise, but they’re definitely Bent’s. The way he maneuvers the giant shovel, effortlessly bringing the excavator’s arm up and down with such precision, is impressive. Even Liam, who is standing next to Misty, eyes wide, seems awed.
“Didn’t you want Dex to come for this?” I ask Emma over the noise.
“Not really.” She doesn’t offer a reason but the fact that she didn’t want him here to witness what could possibly change our lives forever speaks volumes. At least to me.
The section of the wall by the cedar tree is nearly down now. All that’s left is two rows of rocks and I’m starting to wonder if we got it wrong. Or if indeed this was Willy’s idea of a joke. Because there’s no sign of a golf bag. Not yet, anyway. A strange sense of relief settles over me, which is quickly replaced by fear.
I walk toward Misty and Liam. “Did we choose the wrong section of wall?”
“It matches the riddle,” Liam says but doesn’t sound confident. “Then again, we could be off. Just a few feet to the right or the left could be the difference. It’s probably under the wall. In the dirt. That makes the most sense.”
He’s right. A golf bag isn’t a small thing to hide. Willy probably saw Bent making preparations for the wall’s foundation and in the dark of night snuck in and buried the bag in the ground.
Bent is moving the last row of rocks. He’s made a neat pile in the field, presumably so he can reuse the stones when he rebuilds. I meet his eyes and he gives me a thumbs-up sign and for a minute my heart stops. Did he find it?
I cross the bocce ball court, even though Bent warned us to stay back for safety purposes, to have a closer look. There’s nothing there but a layer of gravel. Bent motions for me to move away, so he can start digging. He doesn’t appear concerned that we didn’t find the bag in the rocks.
I consider telling him to stop and glance over at Emma to see if she’s thinking the same. But she’s standing with Liam now and their heads are too close together for me to read her expression.
Bent lowers his giant shovel and I hear it scrape against the ground. It’s like nails on a chalkboard, that sound. He scrapes the gravel into another pile next to the rocks and tunnels under the ground, digging a long trench.
There’s a flash of red and my chest pounds so hard I’m convinced I’m having a heart attack. Bent lifts the red object midway in the air and I stand stock-still, afraid to even look. Emma and Liam move closer. Soon, Misty is there, too.
“It’s not it,” she says, and I lock my gaze on her. “See?” She points at Bent’s giant shovel. “It’s a wrapper, I think.”
