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“There’s nothing much to say. Water. Sand. Fish. That was about all we found.” I hang my head.
“We learned a few things.” Harley tells us about the symbol being a battle flag.
Royal shows us the original sketch of the Pirate Defense League’s symbol on a piece of paper that is the same size as the ones in the journal. “And there are some numbers down here in the corner.”
Squinting, I read them, “Eleven, two, nine, one, nine, three, nine. Not enough digits for a telephone number. Too many for a zip code. Do they mean anything to you?” I look at my brother.
“Chip could’ve needed some scratch paper,” Royal supplies.
“Could be a code.”
The room turns an electric shade of white for the briefest moment and Harley jumps to my side, clinging to my arm.
“I hope Luke is okay.”
“He’s in a house that’s been standing for almost a century, which is saying something on this island. Plus, he’s surrounded by his cousins, so chances are he hasn’t noticed the storm.”
Harley lets out a breath but doesn’t release my arm. Instead, she grips it tighter.
In a flash, I realize something. “Everyone cover your ears.”
“Is there more thunder?” Harley asks.
I hug her close. “No, a family secret.”
The ladies cover their ears though I trust they won’t commit any crimes with this information.
“I recognize the number,” I tell my twin. “It’s Avó’s birthday.”
Royal snaps his fingers. “Chip’s go-to password.”
I nod. “Okay, you can uncover your ears,” I tell Robyn, Isla, and Harley.
She says, “I almost forgot. Slidell Williams said something cryptic about the pen with a plume not used with normal ink, but what other kind of ink is there?”
I straighten like one of the bolts of lightning outside woke me from a trance. “Invisible ink.”
“Is that a real thing?” Harley asks.
“Of course,” Robyn says. “I used to work at a bookstore where we had a gift section and sold it.”
“I think Chip once taught Magnus how to make it. They may have used baking soda and vinegar. Held it up to a light to reveal the words,” Royal says as if that’s the extent of his knowledge of secret messaging methods, given our older brother’s military background.
“So, the note from the diary could say something.” I eye the door.
Harley tightens her grip around my arm as if holding me in place a little longer as the storm continues to rage.
“Growing up on the island made us wild but not stupid. Well, not too stupid. Remember the time we went boat-surfing in the storm surge, seeing how we could ride and glide on those mega waves?” I ask.
Royal shakes his head because after that he rarely went out on the water.
I chuckle. That wasn’t even the stupidest thing we did.
We reminisce about storm parties and the daring and dumb things we’d do, like to see who could hold on to the flag pole the longest in high winds.
“You guys once dared me to go to the top of the lighthouse during a tropical storm. I was so headstrong, I actually did it,” Harley says.
Isla and Robyn share a mutual gasp.
