Gravel crunched beneath the tires of the rented blue Subaru Forester as Fiona pulled into Riverview Mall's decrepit parking lot. Squinting against the early morning sun, Conrad lifted a hand to shade his eyes.

"Not as fun as Disneyland," he groused, staring at the long stretch of abandoned storefronts on the edge of the tiny town of Van Tassell, Wyoming.

Fiona opened her mouth to agree, but a yawn escaped her lips instead. After the wrong turn in Arizona, her tank was starting to get dangerously close to empty.

Conrad's eyes cut to her. "You okay to drive?"

Scrunching her nose, Fiona stared at him. "We're here." And not a moment too soon. She needed to get up and move around before she hit the pavement—or another car.

Conrad rolled his eyes. "Fine. This better be the right place." He dug around in the backpack wedged between his feet and pulled out his cell phone.

Fiona eased the Subaru between a pair of faded white lines in front of the mall and put it in park. Rolling her shoulders, she peered down as Conrad pulled up the picture of Lucky's. "Looks like it," she said, pointing through the windshield at a sign.

"Huh. Might as well get on with it," Conrad said, getting out of the SUV. Yanking his backpack out from beneath the glove compartment, he tucked his cell phone into his back pocket.

The moniker of "strip mall" was justified, Fiona thought as she eased the Forester's door open and stood up. There was nothing glamorous or fancy about the graffitied brown and black brick façade with its patchwork black shingled roof. Every window was boarded up with one or two sheets of plywood, the edges chipped away by vandals hoping to get in. Wide yellow caution tape stretched across the doors, each secured by a fat digital padlock.

Faded and weathered signs hung above the doors, stark reminders of five lost dreams: Lisa's Nail Salon, Kieslowski's Insurance, A+ Eye Care, Angelo's Pizza, and right in the middle, Lucky's. Bits of glass and shards from beer bottles littered the cracked grey sidewalk.

Fiona's gaze swept across the "No Trespassing" and "Kendall Property Management" placards nailed to the plywood. She was seriously considering widening one of those holes in the wood to get inside when a hiss from Conrad drew her attention.

Glancing over her shoulder, Fiona noticed two tall, lanky men in black trench coats and beanies stand up from their camp chairs by the broken sign at the strip mall's entrance. They'd passed that sign on the way in—how did she manage to miss them?

You're tired, that's why, a no-nonsense voice noted in the back of Fiona's mind.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath as the two men began walking towards them.

Eyes narrowing, Conrad threw out an arm. "Get behind me," he muttered between clenched teeth.

Fiona took two steps back and bumped up against the digital padlock on Lucky's front door. Her heart rate jumped a notch and she looked around for something to defend herself with, finding only litter and gravel from the parking lot.

A piece of glass resting on the dirty window sill sparkled in the rising sun, drawing Fiona's attention. Ugh, she groaned. It was small and possibly covered in thousands of germs, but it would have to do. Wrapping her sleeve around her fingers, she picked up the triangular shard and positioned the sharpest point outwards.

"Yo!" one of the men shouted, throwing his arms out wide. Greasy brown hair fell across his forehead, obscuring one eye, and a cloud of what could only be described as marijuana smoke wreathed his head like a perverse halo. "You guys wanting to buy or what?"

Conrad and Fiona exchanged a confused look. "Buy what?" Conrad asked as Fiona wrinkled her nose at the smell.

The first man nodded at his companion. Without hesitation, the second man threw open the folds of his trench coat, revealing a dirty inner lining covered with tiny pouches of marijuana.

"No," Fiona breathed in relief—and immediately regretted it as she got another whiff of smoke. At least they weren't getting flashed. Now, whether they were going to be mugged was a different matter. "No, thank you."

A look of disappointment crossed the not-flasher's face and he closed his trench coat dejectedly. The greasy-haired man cocked his head to the side, studying Fiona with one raised eyebrow that had seen better days. "Oi! You a Brit?" he exclaimed in an exaggerated Dick Van Dyke-in-Mary Poppins accent.

Conrad glanced over his shoulder at Fiona, frowning. "Yes," she replied over Conrad's muttered "Don't say anything." Arguing the difference wasn't worth their time.

The two drug dealers exchanged a look. "Huh," the greasy one drew out slowly, the hamster powering his brain obviously stoned out of its mind. "Well ... if you're not going to buy, we'll get back to our posts."

To Fiona's shock and amazement, the two men simply turned away and trudged back to their post by the sign.

As they left, Conrad dropped his arm and spun around to face Fiona. "What part of 'don't say anything' do you not understand?"

Any lingering thoughts about how heroic he'd been by putting himself in front of her vanished. "Excuse me?" Fiona retorted, dropping the shard of glass back on the window sill.

Conrad's eyes zeroed in on her weapon. "Did you plan on shanking them?"

Fiona crossed her arms and cocked her head. "And what were you going to do? Hit them with your backpack?"

"Well, yeah." Conrad lifted his chin indignantly. "A puff of wind could blow those Jay and Silent Bob wannabes over."

Seeing as they were powered by their own wind, Fiona thought that unlikely. Sighing, she shook her head. They needed to get into Lucky's, not stand here arguing where two drug dealers could overhear them. "So, how do you propose we get in?"

Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, Conrad studied the barricaded door.

"Looking to get in?"

Fiona jumped and Conrad swore as Mr. Greasy-Hair appeared behind them, bringing with him that ever-present cloud. "Y-yes," she replied, pressing a hand to her chest. "Do you know how?"

Greasy-Hair laughed—a high, nasally sound. "Yeah, but you won't find anything good in there. Place got cleaned out years ago." He paused and considered, the hamster working overtime. "Well, me' n' Mitch once found a bottle of wine, but that was about it."

"We're not looking to steal anything," Conrad told the man, palming Fiona's glass shard as he turned around.

A look of confusion crossed Greasy-Hair's face. "Then why do you want to get in?"

Conrad stared blankly at the drug dealer. "Uh ..."

Fiona stepped in front of him, a lie blazing to life. "We're YouTubers," she announced in what she hoped was a convincing tone. "We like to film abandoned places. We came here because we read that this was a mob hideout."

"YouTubers?" Conrad turned and mouthed incredulously at Fiona. She shrugged. It was the most plausible thing she could think of.

A dreamy sort of look came over Greasy-Hair's face. "Ah, cool! Yeah, man, I get it. Fame and fortune. The back door to the nail salon's open; you can get in from there."

"Thank you!" Fiona said, pivoting on her heel.

"Hey!" the stoner called out, stopping Fiona mid-stride.

"Yes?" Conrad asked tensely.

"You think me' n' Mitch can get on your channel? Get famous and all?"

Conrad glanced at Fiona; this was her lie, after all. "Sure," she replied slowly, thoughts spinning. "Just let us get some shots first, then we'll call you in."

"Cool!" the other man exclaimed. "We'll be over there." He jerked a long thumb in the direction of the entrance sign.

Fiona nodded and started walking again. Conrad hustled to keep up with her, backpack bouncing against his shoulders. "That was too easy," he muttered, glancing behind them to make sure the stoners weren't following.

"I'm not even going to think about it," she told him in hushed tones. The sooner they got out of here, the better she'd feel.

Conrad eased around the side wall, holding the glass shard out like a grimy Dorito. "All clear."

More graffiti and "No Trespassing" signs littered the back of the strip mall. Unlike the storefronts, the back doors to each shop were not boarded up. Someone had attempted to break down the door to the pizza place, but whatever company now owned the mall merely wedged it back into place and covered it in heavy chains. They weren't so diligent about the nail salon.

Either that, or it had recently been busted in.

Conrad paused at the back step, shrugged off his backpack and pulled out a heavy torch. Flicking it on, he nudged the dented grey door with one foot. Rusty hinges whined in protest, but the door swung open with little effort.

A musty odor filtered out into the open. Fiona wrinkled her nose and took a step back. She didn't know what was worse—mildew or pot.

"Ugh," Conrad muttered, pulling a handkerchief out of his back pocket. Winding it around his nose and mouth like a bandit, he hefted the backpack. "Coming?"

Taking a deep breath of clean air, Fiona adjusted her glasses and nodded.

They stepped into the former nail salon and looked around. Fiona paused in the middle of the grimy floor, eyes sweeping across slightly less dirty spots left by the removal of chairs and tables. Black pipes jutted up from the floor and out of the walls; a large, wide bucket sat beneath one pipe, water almost cresting the edge.

"So, where's this secret entrance?" Fiona wondered, staring at one of the walls. A long rectangular object, possibly a mirror, had once hung there but when she stepped up to it and pressed against it, nothing yielded.

Setting his backpack aside, Conrad crouched on the floor, shining his torch into every corner. "Huh," he mused, cocking his head.

Fiona looked down. "What? What did you find?"

"Help me shift this bucket," he said, putting the torch down.

Fiona studied the dirty water and wondered if it was worth the trouble of getting her trainers wet. In the end, her drive to find the next clue won over any fastidiousness and she hunkered down opposite Conrad.

"Push it towards me," he instructed.

Water sloshed over the edge and spilled onto the tile, splashing onto Fiona's feet. Grimacing, she shoved the bucket harder than she'd planned.

"Hey! Watch it!" Conrad shouted, jumping out of the way as a large wave crested the edge of the bucket and slopped onto his shoes. "Ugh. Jesus." Straightening, he shook out his shoes, splattering water all over the wall.

Fiona ignored his protests and looked down. "There's no trap door here."

Conrad snorted and grimaced as his shoes squelched on the tiled floor. "Not there. Here." He tapped the wall behind the bucket. A hollow sound rang out in the empty salon.

Fiona lifted her eyes, impressed. "How'd you know it was there?"

"A lucky guess." His phone buzzed at that moment and he pulled it out, looked at the screen, and then stuck it back in his pocket.

Fiona frowned, but turned her head and busied herself with prying the secret door open. She'd been having misgivings about Conrad ever since they left Tombstone. While she certainly wasn't immune to texting on her phone, he seemed to go into corners or other rooms where she couldn't see what he was doing. That alone began setting warning bells off in her head. Now, it seemed that her suspicions weren't unfounded.

The door popped open and landed face down in the puddle of dirty water. "Bloody hell," she muttered, peering inside. Conrad shifted and shined his torch down the short tunnel between businesses.

"You first."

Why me? Shuddering in revulsion, Fiona swallowed hard and crawled as fast as she could through the tiny space. Popping out on the other side, she carefully pulled clumps of cobwebs from her curls and wiped them off on the nearest available surface.

"Did you get all the spiders?" Conrad called from the other side.

"Ugh!" Fiona cried, rubbing a cobweb off her elbow on the side of an upside-down table. "Get in here!"

"Are you sure the spiders are gone?"

Of all the times to get arachnophobia ...! "Yes!" she shouted back, pulling white strands from her hair.

With a guttural moan, Conrad popped through. Fiona stared at him, nearly free of cobwebs—probably because they were all in her hair.

"Get it off me!" he cried, dancing around.

"There's nothing on you!"

That didn't stop Conrad, going quite pale around the lips, from slapping himself silly. Fiona watched him abuse himself for a few minutes before turning her attention to the task at hand.

The inside of Lucky's was surprisingly tidy. Whatever plans the company that bought the strip mall had, they intended on renovating this old watering hole first. Tables were stacked neatly against each wall and the bar at the back had a plastic tarp taped around it. There were no tools lying around, which considering how often this place seemed to be broken into, was a smart idea. Piles of sawdust rested on the tarp, the scent of woodworking a pleasant reprieve from must and mildew.

"So, where should we look first?" Conrad panted, eyes slightly wild.

Fiona pursed her lips and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "I've no idea." Pulling out her phone, she searched through her gallery and found the screenshot she'd taken of Lucky's eagle.

Conrad sighed. "Fine. I'll take the front, you take the back." Shoulders twitching, he wandered off without waiting to see if Fiona wanted a different assignment.

Whatever. Shrugging to herself, she wandered over to the bar and began looking.

She explored every inch of that bar, from top to bottom, even getting down on her hands and knees and crawling beneath it to shine her iPhone's flashlight on the underside. No symbols, nothing out of the ordinary.

Shit.

"Any luck?" she called out, popping her head over the top of the bar.

"No."

Getting to her feet, Fiona brushed off her pants and wandered into the back. A wall had been taken down and she stood on a small flight of steps overlooking a recessed room. Against the back was a small bar with a roulette wheel sitting atop it.

Huh. So this is what a mob den looked like, she mused, stepping down into the secret back room.

Once more, got down on her hands and knees to explore the bar. This one was slightly different than the one in the main room, with nautical carvings across the front, on the sides and edges. Feeling frustrated, Fiona curled up beneath the bar and pulled up the picture of the eagle again. What was she missing?

The glow from her phone illuminated the small space beneath the bar, deepening the shadows around the carvings. Fiona stared so hard at the picture that her eyes began to hurt. Swiping off her glasses, she perched them atop her head and peered at the photo, willing the answer to come.

Maybe there was a different picture. There had to be. Pulling up Google, she swiped through the pitiful search results until something caught her eye.

No way, she breathed. Blowing up the photo, Fiona stared at the aerial image taken by Google Earth years ago. The eagle perched on the roof of Lucky's, but from this angle, it showed something entirely new—the eagle was standing on an anchor.

Galvanized, Fiona whipped around and began her search anew. It was short-lived, because right where she had been sitting, tucked up in the back, was the faint outline of an anchor. Grinning from ear to ear, Fiona put her glasses back on and got to work, jamming her fingernails into the juncture and wiggling the small piece free.

The board with the anchor popped into her scraped hands—and something else followed.

Despite herself, Fiona gasped, which alerted Conrad. Wet sneakers squished across the room.

"What? Did you find it?"

Overwhelmed with the delight of discovery, Fiona forgot about her reservations and popped up from behind the bar, prize in hand. "Got it!" she crowed, hauling herself up and placing the round object on the bar.

"What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, Fiona peered down at the clue. It was a small medallion, just big enough to fit in the palm of her hand. A gold braid wrapped around the outer edge and in the middle, displayed against a red field, was an eagle perched on the world with an anchor in the background. "United States Marine Corps" was picked out in white on a black field surrounding the eagle.

Immediately, Conrad was on his phone. "Is there anything else down there?" he asked, typing away. "Camp Lejeune, Camp Pendleton ..." His mouth twisted as he scrolled.

"I don't think so." Fiona peered at his phone. "What are you looking up?"

"Marine Corps stuff. The next clue could be literally anywhere in the United States. Hell, it could be a person for all we know," he muttered, pulling up a list of grumpy, middle-aged men with severe hair cuts wearing an absurd amount of medals. "It might even be the Navy."

At that moment, Conrad's phone dinged and he immediately turned away from Fiona to answer the text. Fiona watched him, frowning, a ghost of a plan forming in the back of her mind. Its mere existence frightened her, but so did letting the Bird fall into the wrong hands—which, at this moment, looked suspiciously like Conrad's.

"Why don't we get something to eat?" she heard herself suggesting.

"Hm?" Conrad asked over his shoulder.

"Eat? Food?" she prompted.

He finished whatever text he was writing and turned around, clicking his phone shut. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Better to look at this on a full stomach."

Fiona reached for the medallion and tucked it into a pocket in her pants. Conrad's eyes followed the motion, then he blinked and shrugged to himself.

Yes, she had the right to be worried.

After managing to evade the two drug dealers (and spiders), Fiona and Conrad drove to a nearby diner next to their motel. In-between bites of greasy hamburgers and massive steak fries, they studied the medallion sitting between them on the table.

As she ate, Fiona debated whether she should share an interesting fact she just discovered. Her answer came in the form of Conrad's phone dinging yet again.

"You're popular," she joked, trying to sound casual.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," he muttered, grabbing his phone. "I'll be back in a second." Getting up, Conrad wandered into the back of the diner, towards the restrooms.

Fiona stared at the medallion, then longingly over her fatty American hamburger. She could get something else to eat. Go, a little voice urged her. Reaching for her purse, she tossed a twenty-note on the table, swiped the medallion and made for the door.

The Subaru was parked right in front of the diner's door. She was pulling out of the parking lot as Conrad ran outside, yelling and waving his hands over his head.

"FIONA! FIONA! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?"

Lips set in a grim line and heart hammering heavily in her chest, Fiona set her foot to the gas and sped away from the diner. Conrad chased after her on foot, but as she watched in the rearview mirror, he stumbled to a halt, head dropping in defeat.

The Forester screeched to a halt in front of their motel room door and Fiona ran inside, grabbing her luggage and tossing it into the back of the SUV. She had to put as much distance between her and Conrad as possible before she could even think of taking time to decipher the clue.

A maid paused outside the room next door, mouth hanging open as Fiona threw the SUV into reverse and made for the highway, tires squealing on the pavement.

She didn't stop until nature's call was too great to ignore and she was forced to pull into a roadside gas station. After relieving herself and buying a few snacks to make up for her hasty exit, Fiona climbed into the Forester and pulled out the medallion.

Opening up her phone, she did a quick Google search and compared the two results side by side. Yes, there was a difference: on the official US Marine Corps logo, the globe was cut through by several parallel lines running from left to right. That wasn't the case for the medallion: a flag, or what she assumed was a flag, filled the inside of the globe.

It was tiny, but she could just make out what looked to be a sheep or a goat standing on a rock and holding a flag.

Fiona twirled a lock of hair around her finger as she typed keywords into Google. The result was unanimous: San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Biting her lip, Fiona searched for Marine Corps bases on the island but came up empty. There was a reserve base, but the medallion clearly said "United States Marine Corps", not "United States Marine Corps Reserves". (She checked, there was a difference.)

Sighing, Fiona let her head fall back against the headrest. She had to figure this out, and quickly.

Had they been too hasty? Was there another clue back at Lucky's?

Fiona rubbed the medallion between her fingers, turning it over. Huh? Fiona peered at the small crosscut into the back. It was a simple cutout, no more elaborate than a piece of clipart. A quick search of "Marine Corps Churches" came back with chapels on bases, and "Marine Corps Cemeteries" brought up hundreds of military cemeteries across the US and overseas.

"Dammit," she hissed. What was she missing?

Biting the inside of her cheek, she typed in "US Marines San Juan Cemetery".

Her eyes widened as she took in the top result: "The Royal Marine Cemetery at English Camp". Clicking on the link, Fiona took a deep breath. She was going to Washington State. It was going to be a long drive.