Lena waded into the warm waters of Black Cove Inlet, her GPS clutched in one hand. The final geocache of the day was supposed to be hidden just offshore, “where the ocean keeps its secrets.”
She stepped carefully, toes searching the sand. Then she felt something hard. Not a cache, but a pair of sunglasses, half-buried in the silt. The lenses were cracked, the name Tyler J. scratched into the frame.
Her stomach tightened. Tyler had gone missing last summer—on a geocaching trip.
A notification buzzed on her GPS: Cache found.
Her fingers trembled as she checked the log. The last entry was dated today. And the name? Lena M.
The water surged around her ankles. A cold hand clamped onto her wrist.
She barely had time to scream before the log claimed its newest entry.