Chapter 6
Captain Mitchell didn’t say a word. He just lifted the megaphone back to his mouth.
Inside the box rested a heavy, antique brass compass, nestled on a bed of dark velvet. Beside it was a stiff card covered in meticulous, elegant handwriting.
“FOR PEOPLE WHO DESPERATELY NEED TO FIND THEIR WAY,” Mitchell read aloud into the megaphone, his voice booming over the sand, making sure every single person within a quarter-mile heard it.
Tiffany’s mouth dropped open in shock. She tried to lower her phone, but she was still live. The chat on her screen was likely already exploding.
“BECAUSE TODAY,” Mitchell continued, his voice echoing with righteous, unyielding authority, “A LITTLE BOY WAS ALMOST FORCED TO FORGET WHY HE CAME TO THIS BEACH TO HONOR HIS DEAD FATHER.”
The silence that followed was heavier than a collapsed building. Nobody laughed. Nobody clapped. It was the crushing, absolute silence of collective judgment.
Then, the crowd turned. Someone in the back booed. A woman nearby yelled, “You’re a monster! Turn your camera off!” Another voice echoed, “Get off the beach, trash!”
Tiffany scanned the hundreds of furious faces surrounding her. She looked at her phone screen, where the comments were flying by too fast to read, undoubtedly filled with the same vitriol. She had wanted an audience. She had wanted the spotlight. Now, the blazing heat of a thousand angry eyes was burning her alive.
Panicked, humiliated, and entirely out of her depth, she shoved the golden box back into Mitchell’s chest. She frantically grabbed her tote bag, her towel, and her gimbal. She scrambled to her feet so fast she tripped over her own sandals, her wide-brimmed hat flying off and landing in the sand. She didn’t stop to pick it up.
She practically sprinted toward the boardwalk, her bodyguard trailing awkwardly behind her. The crowd parted for her, not out of respect, but out of disgust, refusing to even let her brush against them.
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Captain Mitchell watched her retreat until she disappeared up the wooden stairs. Only then did he lower the megaphone. He turned around, the golden box still in his hand, and walked slowly toward where I sat in the sand with Noah.
Who is this man? I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs. And what is really in that box?
