Page 50 of Your Every Wish

Today’s the big day. Bent is bringing his excavator.

It’s been at a job site in another county for the last few days, that’s why we’ve had to wait.

To say I’m nervous is an understatement.

On one hand, if the money is there, my troubles are over.

On the other hand, if the money is there it may mean that my troubles have just begun.

But I guess I’m willing to go for broke.

Like Willy, I’m a gambler. I’ve already told Emma that if we find Willy’s fortune and for some reason the FBI finds out, I’ll take the rap.

She rolled her eyes and told me to shut up.

Still, I know she’s nervous about it. That kind of money can be life changing, and not always in a good way.

Take Willy, for instance. At one time, he was richer than Taylor Swift (well, maybe not that rich) and yet, it wasn’t good enough for him.

He had to buy stock using inside information, even though it’s illegal.

And what for? He already had everything he needed and more.

So instead of getting richer, he went to prison, got cancer, and died.

As far as I can tell, no one went to his funeral, if he even had a funeral.

So as much as it’s a cliché, maybe the moral of the story is money can’t buy happiness. Or even a better house on the California coast.

“You ready?” Emma comes into my room bundled up like we’re living in the frozen tundra. Saturday’s Halloween and the temperatures already feel like winter.

“Just about. Whose idea again was it to do this at the crack of dawn?”

“Bent’s, I think.” She takes a moment to look at me, really look. “You don’t seem as excited as I thought you’d be.”

“Nervous, I guess.”

“Yeah, me too.” She slings her arm over my shoulder. “Promise that you won’t be upset if the money isn’t there.”

“Great, not only will I be out the thirty thousand—now forty—I owe Brock Sterling, but I’ll also have to find the cash to reimburse Bent for his stupid rock wall.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time.”

“You sound like an advice columnist.”

Emma grins. “Because I am. And a damned good one.”

Not so good if she’s willing to move in with Dex, but that is a discussion for another day. Today, full steam ahead on finding the money.

“Let’s do this.” I slip into my ski jacket, put on a woolen hat for good measure, and catch my reflection in Ginger’s wall mirror on our way out. I’ve got dark circles under my eyes and a bad case of resting bitch face.

I’m not in the mood for walking, so we take the BMW, picking up Liam on the way. He’s standing at the bottom of his driveway wearing a Pendleton sweater, backpack, and ski cap, holding a thermos and three mugs. The man thinks of everything.

“Misty says she’ll meet us there,” he says as he folds himself into my back seat. “I’ve been monitoring the cameras and we’re good.”

Liam rigged up a hidden security system to make sure no one snuck in and stole our booty.

Though we’ve been trying to keep the golf bag and money under wraps, word has a way of spreading around here.

And I trust Bent McCourtney about as far as I can throw him.

Though to be fair, if he’d wanted to, he could’ve claimed rights because the bag is partially on his property.

In any event, Liam’s a godsend. I have no idea how he knows how to do this stuff but he’s kind of a genius at jimmy-rigging anything mechanical.

The area by the bocce ball courts doesn’t have Wi-Fi, so it’s not like we could’ve installed a Ring or any of the other security cameras they sell nowadays.

But Liam came up with a way to do it. A real-life Q from James Bond.

Bent’s already at the meeting spot, standing beside his excavator in a thin jacket and cowboy hat. He reminds me of a small boy on Christmas morning (okay, there’s nothing about Bent that says small boy), radiating excited energy. He’s totally into this.

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.”

I turn to the excavator and sure enough it’s a piece of red plastic, probably a piece of trash that found its way into the hole. I let out a breath.

Bent takes another swing through the trench with the shovel, then turns off the machine.

Giving us time for our ears to adjust, he calls that there’s nothing down there.

My chest feels less tight, like a vise has been loosened around it.

And suddenly I can breathe again. It is not lost on me that I should be feeling the opposite way.

“It’s there,” Misty says, and Emma, Liam, and I move closer to the wide maw Bent has dug and circle the trench. “Not here. There.” She motions to a section of the stone wall that’s covered in shadow from the trees. “I see it clear as day. The golf bag. The money. It’s there. Under the wall.”

I don’t know what to believe. We could spend all day destroying the remainder of Bent’s rock wall and still find nothing. Or it could be in the exact spot Misty says it’s in.

“What do you want me to do?” Bent folds his arms over his chest.

Emma and I turn to each other. “What do you think we should do?” I ask her, a lot less sure than I was a few hours ago. Though these last few days the sense of doom has been creeping up on me.

“I don’t know,” she says but I can tell she’s even more hesitant than I am.

The thing is, I’m the one who desperately needs the money and Emma has miraculously had my back.

Truthfully, I don’t know what I would’ve done without her these last few weeks.

“It’s up to you, Kennedy. Whatever you decide. ”

Bent is leaning against the excavator, all loose limbs and smiles. He’s the only one who appears to be enjoying this. Even Liam seems . . . reluctant. Nervous.

“Can we sleep on it?” I ask.

He fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket and scrolls through it. “Yep, but Hoss here”—he slaps the side of the machine—“is spoken for Monday. So don’t sleep too long.”

“You’re not going to let me redeem myself?” Misty steps forward, scowling.

Emma takes Misty by the arm and tells her in the kindest way possible that this isn’t about her.

Then we drive home, defeated. Liam puts up a pot of coffee and the three of us sit around the kitchen table.

The mood is glum, even though in a weird way I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

“Madge will be disappointed,” I say, breaking the silence.

“I thought you didn’t tell her, that you let her think there wasn’t any money.”

“I didn’t. But if we’d found the money I would’ve had to tell her.” I can’t decide which would be more pressure: worrying about having to launder dirty money or having Madge, and by extension Max, on the gravy train.

“What about Misty?” Emma says. “What if it’s really where she says it is?”

“It would solve my immediate problem, that’s for sure.” Monday is the deadline for Brock Sterling and here it is Wednesday.

“Let’s do it, Kennedy. Let’s at least try in the spot where Misty says it is,” Emma says.

I know it’s more for me than it is for her. Still, I grab onto it like it’s a lifeline because in essence it is.

“Liam?” He’s been so quiet I almost forget he’s here. “What do you say?” While his opinion doesn’t matter as much as Emma’s does, he’s part of this now. He’s as much a part of it as even Misty.

“It’s up to the both of you. But I don’t have to tell you that it comes with risks.”

“We can fix up the trailer park,” I say because I’m tired of it always being about me. “Maybe if we shined the place up, we could figure out how to make it profitable.”

“The both of you should sleep on it.” Liam gets to his feet. “I’ll leave you to talk.”

Emma watches through the window as he walks home.

“What’s going on with you two?” I address the elephant in the room.

“Nothing,” she says too quickly and a little defensively, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “He’s hiding something, you know?”

“Like what?” Liam isn’t exactly a sharer but hiding something? He just seems private to me.

“His past. I’ve searched the internet and can’t find anything about him. Not even his name shows up in searches. There are lots of Liam Duffys but none of them is him.”

A sense of unease creeps through me. And I remember my mother’s saying: If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.