Once in the saloon, we brought out the laptop and did some research on Deacon Lynch and the Aryan Order. The man had a website set up for his white supremacist group, a dark page with red text that my antivirus software warned me about prior to visiting it. It was profane, and evil, and twisted. Nothing but propaganda and disturbing racist articles. Lynch had a blog set up where he discussed the problems that nonwhite races created for America and for the world.
On the website header, he called them the self-proclaimed protectors of the white race. And under the About Us section, he wrote that the organization’s mission was to instigate a race war targeting African Americans, Hispanics, and other minorities.
We also found links to Lynch’s YouTube channel. We’d read that most of his videos had been taken down due to his breaking the website’s terms of service agreement, but they were all still accessible via the Aryan Order’s website.
The videos contained things like target practice where they shot up jugs of water while they laughed and pretended that they were blowing up heads. Graphic images and evil language that have no place in the United States, or anywhere where freedom and tolerance reign supreme.
The Aryan Order’s compound had been raided six months earlier for illegal paramilitary training and for shooting up houses, after a long investigation. According to an article, the place was ringed with barbed wire and guarded by pit bulls and had scattered firing positions. The place had been set up as a refuge for white supremacists.
Unfortunately, Lynch and a handful of his members had been tipped off to the raid. Only a few stragglers were on site when the police barged in, and most of the firearms, ammunitions, and homemade explosives had already been cleared out. The group had vanished since the raid, and no one knew where Lynch and his followers had run off to.
After half an hour of researching, I leaned back into the cushion.
“A white supremacist group looking for a Civil War treasure hidden in the ocean by the confederates,” I said, shaking my head. “Only in Florida.”
FOURTEEN
Scarlett Dodge lay in a hammock in her backyard. She held an open book in her left hand and let her right dangle to the grass below. Atticus bolted right up to her and dropped a slobber-covered tennis ball. Without looking, she snatched it up and threw it across the yard. The teenager had been playing fetch with the energetic Lab for the past half hour, and the dog showed little signs of fatigue.
Isaac Rubio, Jack’s nephew, sat at an umbrella-shaded table beside her. He had a textbook open and was taking diligent notes. Jack had gone downtown to the marina for an hour and Harper was upstairs, finishing up a few stories.
Isaac stopped writing, leaned back, and stretched. Sharpening his pencil, he glanced over at Scarlett and asked her what she was reading.
“A book on the history of Key West,” she said.
“That on the high school reading list?”
“No. We’re supposed to be reading Gatsby, but I finished it.”
Besides, she thought, I have my own green light. And it isn’t a spoiled, classless rich girl either.
Ever since she’d heard the story and its believed connection with the murder of Harper’s uncle, all she could think about was the Key West Avengers and the treasure they’d supposedly hidden.
She looked over at the open book in front of Isaac. “What about you?”
“Euclid’s Elements.”
She chuckled. “Don’t you ever read anything interesting?”
He shot her a dramatic, icy look—as if she’d just cursed in church.
“Euclid was one of the most influential minds in history. He was instrumental in the development of logic and modern science. He wrote these pages over twenty-three-hundred years ago, and yet they weren’t surpassed until the 1800s.”
Scarlett just stared at him. Then she turned her attention to the other book on the table. “I’m sure it’s a real page turner,” she said. “What else you got?”
Isaac sighed and shook his head. “It’s for my environmental science class. We’re having a guest speaker lecture tomorrow at the college about coastline erosion, and we’re supposed to have intelligent questions prepared for him.”
“That sounds slightly more interesting.” She gave a fake yawn. “Real edge-of-your-seat stuff.”
“It’s actually pretty cool.” He set Euclid aside for the time being, showing proper respect by being careful with the book, then cracked open the environmental science textbook. “These pictures were taken just fifty years apart.”
He stepped over and showed Scarlett the page. The pictures were of the same coastline, but Scarlett was amazed at how much it’d changed in such a short period of time.
“This guy, Professor Ashwood,” Isaac continued, “he created a program that he can use to show how shorelines used to look based on weather data and charts over the years. He can even predict future changes with an impressive level of accuracy.”
Scarlett stared out over the water. Just like Gatsby staring across the bay, she saw her desires as she focused across the narrow channel. After all her parents had done for her, she wanted to help them in any way she could. To prove that she too could discover buried treasure, just like they did.
But what if they’re looking in the wrong place? She thought. What if time and elements shifted the landscape, tossing things around? Belt buckle over here, treasure chest over there. Scattered far apart.
“Hey, you all right?” Isaac asked.
Scarlett blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. “Better than all right. And I think I can help you with at least one intelligent question tomorrow.”
FIFTEEN
After half an hour of research, we decided to check out the marina that the
