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It was too much of everything.
Barrie slipped into the cabin, quickly shutting the door behind him. He felt a rush from disobeying the sign. His breath caught in his throat as he scanned the interior.
The cabin was surprisingly spacious, yet still cozy with dark wood floors and wall paneling that sloped upward, tapering toward the ceiling. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windows, casting shafts of light and shadows across the room.
As the sign had warned, the cabin was clearly under restoration. White tarps were draped over the walls, while tools and paint buckets were scattered across the floor.
Barrie took a few more steps into the cabin, taking it all in. In the back of the room was an imposing desk. He pulled the tarp off the desktop, revealing a polished mahogany surface that was covered with old maritime maps.
Barrie tried out the velvet-backed chair, sinking into it and peering at the desk. Captain Hook once sat here, he thought, scanning the parchment maps. He ran his fingers over the lines curving around the landmasses. He could feel that the maps were hand-drawn.
Through the windows, he could see the water spanning outward toward the horizon as if it had no end. Another thing he didn’t like about the ocean. It was just too massive.
He imagined being out at sea for months in this rickety ship with only these old, paper maps to guide him back home safely—not even a phone or computer. That thought unsettled him.
He sat there, trying to imagine what the kid detectives in his books would do. Search the desk, of course, he thought. He rifled through the drawers, looking for something that would help him solve the mystery of Hook’s missing hand. But there was nothing other than old pamphlets for the museum, the odd pen, and lots of dust bunnies.
So much for that, he thought.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a treasure chest in the back of the cabin, like something out of a pirate movie. Bingo, Barrie thought, jumping up and prying the clasp open.
Excitedly, he lifted the lid. Inside, it smelled like old wood and dust. He scanned the interior, and his face fell.
The chest was…empty.
Well, that’s disappointing, he thought.
But of course the museum would have searched it already. Barrie dropped the lid.
Bang.
And that’s when he saw them—scratch marks gouged into the floor, leading under the antique rug. His pulse skipped an excited beat, and his palms prickled. This was just like the stories in his mystery books, but even better because it was happening in real life.
What made those marks in the floor? And where do they lead?
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Heart racing, Barrie rolled back the thick rug to reveal the bare floorboards. The rug was heavy, and the effort made his arms quiver. He grunted as he tried to push it aside. Out of nowhere, the temperature in the cabin seemed to drop. A sudden chill tore through Barrie, and he shivered fiercely.
He wrapped his arms around his chest to warm up, teeth chattering. Suddenly, he felt a breath on the back of his neck. Barrie’s whole body seized with fear. No. Not possible. But there it was again. Another breath. Somebody was right behind him. Terrified, Barrie jerked around.
Nobody was there.
The cabin remained empty, but still, it felt impossibly cold. Outside, storm clouds had amassed in the skies, blocking the afternoon sunlight. Maybe that was it. A storm was blowing in from the ocean. But then he felt it again: warm breath tickling his neck.
“Wh-who’s there?” he stammered, whipping around again.
But the cabin was empty. Silent.
Probably just the wind dropping the temperature and making strange noises, he thought uneasily. Or he was just being paranoid because he’d broken into a place where he wasn’t allowed. He relaxed slightly and turned back. The newly exposed floorboards were darker because they hadn’t been bleached by sunlight. The scratch marks continued over them, splinters jutting out from the deep gouges.
That’s when his eyes fell on something that made his heart race even faster.
Hidden under the rug, he could just make out the outline of a secret panel set into the floor. The scratch marks stopped at the panel—but an X had been carved into the top of it.
Barrie knelt down to inspect the X, running his fingers over the crisscrossed scratches. Just like in my mystery books, he thought excitedly, X marks the spot!
There was a metal handle on the top. It looked antique and was in the shape of a skull and crossbones. What was hidden inside? Despite his heart thumping in his chest, he knew what he had to do. It was the same thing that the kid detectives in his books would do.
