They all leaned over the table, tracking Lily’s finger as it moved along the wavy line of the Green River. “The map has to be of a section somewhere along here. Unfortunately, this is miles and miles of undeveloped land.” She growled in frustration.
“I feel like I’m looking at one of those Magic Eye things they used to have at the mall,” Walter said, unblinking. “You know, where you stare at a bunch of lines and suddenly it’s a picture of a cat?”
“An autostereogram,” Leo told him. “A picture within a picture.”
“How do you even know that?” Lily said, catching his eye.
Bradley snorted. “Because he’s a fucking nerd.”
Leo nodded to the papers spread out in front of her. “How do you know any of that?”
She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. “I feel like I don’t know anything right now.”
“You don’t recognize anything here?” Walter asked. “A spot that might have been important to Duke?”
Nicole drew an imaginary circle over the map with her fingertip. “If we were flying overhead, we’d say the location in Duke’s map is probably around here. It looks small on his drawing, but that’s a big area.”
Leo pulled the sheet with the riddle across the table. “Let’s see if anything here jogs your memory.”
“？‘In the end, the answer is yes,’？” Lily read, and glanced up to catch his eye. “So, we’re assuming that means yes, Duke found the treasure. Next, ‘You have to go; I have.’ Again,” she said, “I think that means he’s already gone on a hunt, and now it’s the reader’s turn.”
“Right,” he agreed. “But then, ‘You hate to go, but you will.’ What could that one be?”
Lily shook her head in confusion. “If he wrote this for one of his friends, it might be an inside joke, and we’d have no way of knowing.”
“Unless it’s to lead anyone who finds this to Butch’s hiding spot. It could be universal.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay, so then what is a place we all hate to go, but we will go?” After a beat, Lily shook her head again. “And then, ‘You’ll need to go, but never there.’ Those two lines… I’m not sure.” She tapped the bottom of the page. “I feel like we should be able to figure out where this is. It says ‘Duke’s tree.’？”
They all grew aware in unison and looked up, searching the photos on the walls. After a few moments, they turned their attention back to the riddle. None of the photos showed a tree.
“What does ‘belly of the three’ mean?” Bradley asked, leaning in.
“Duke used to call the bends in the rivers ‘bellies,’？” Lily said slowly, “and this part here”—she pointed back to the full map of Canyonlands—“definitely looks like a three.” She drew her finger along a series of curves in the Green River. “But even if this is the right location, getting to it won’t be like walking up to a safety-deposit box. It’s a literal maze down there. I feel like I’m missing something.” Discouraged, she stood and made her way to the jukebox.
Leo watched her go and considered following. Sometimes Lily wanted company when she was working things out, but more often she didn’t. He resisted the ache in his chest and the urge to stand and move to her. Lifting his beer to his lips instead, he looked around the space, wondering how many beers Duke had had in this very spot. The old man must have loved seeing photos of himself everywhere.
His eyes snagged on the bartender, a good-looking guy in his thirties, and then followed the path of his heated focus… straight to Lily. He was definitely not looking at her like a man who was wondering whether a customer needed a refill. Tossing a rag down, he began to make his way around the bar toward her. Before he’d even registered his own decision, Leo shoved back from the table, jealousy and possessiveness streaking a hot path through him. The chair scraped against the battered wood floor and in three steps he was standing behind her.
Close behind her.
Leo wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised by his sudden appearance, but Lily let out a soft “Oh, hi” and now he was stuck there in his self-inflicted moment of machismo. But the heat of her, the awareness of her body so close to his, made it impossible to move away. He rested one hand on the yellowed glass of the machine and ran a finger down the list of songs.
“This one,” he said, tapping the plexiglass over “Rock You Like a Hurricane.” “All the boomers say it’s a banger.”