11. Lots of Hidden Things

"This is where I found the key." Noa had taken us to the front of the cottage for her next test, standing back in silence like a teacher scrutinizing her students. I was annoyed because she was showing off.
We got it, she was clever, smugly waiting for us to beg for her help. I surveyed the front of the cottage imagining the most likely spot the Burris family would hide a spare key. There was no welcome mat, no potted plants, only the screen door, the window and the two black, steel numbers of the address. It must be here somewhere. I thought about all of the spare keys that were probably hidden on this street. I had never really thought how much of this world people deliberately hide from others. I wondered, on an average day, how many concealed treasures I walked past or even stepped on. Omar surrendered as I was lost in thought.

"Noa? Can you tell us where you found it?"

"Wait," I said, hiding my enthusiasm,  pointing to the number thirty-four nailed to the cottage, "there." You could tell that someone had been moving the four because there were small scuffs on the wall. The arc of the swing had left a subtle clean patch, knocking away the light layer of sand. It was obvious once I saw it. Noa swiveled the number aside, returning the key to rest on the small nail hidden behind it.

"That was easy." I shrugged, making sure Noa heard.

"So easy that someone else would have found it?" Omar asked, still shaken by touching the DVDs under Jack's bed, wondering if he was now an official criminal, dreading his parents' reaction. I made a mental note to swear him to secrecy. Omar told his parents everything.

"Did you notice the mail when you entered?" Noa asked, "There was a footprint on it."

Omar held up the small pile of envelopes he had been diligently carrying by his side. The top letter was a little crumpled and covered with sand.

"I think Rachel and I may have trampled it."

I could feel my face flush with embarassment. I had marched right in and stepped on the top envelope, destroying a valuable clue. It was my fault. I knew Omar was trying to share the blame but he had taken his sandals off, there was no way Captain Etiquette would have done something so careless.

"We can still learn something from it." Noa said. She probably enjoyed my mistake but she hid it well. "Someone else used that key before us."

"More importantly," I interrupted, "it was someone who didn't care about picking up the Burris' mail."

"Rachel," Jill's voice called out "your parents want you home." She arrived, hoping off of her bike, ditching it violently into the sand driveway. "Curtis is in a better mood. I think frisbee was the right thing to- who are you?" Jill eyed Noa like a lion encountering a strange bird, confused but composed. I wanted to see Noa try to push Jill around but she remained silent. If there was anything that brought out the beast in Jill it was know-it-alls. After the introductions, I filled Jill in about the investigation. I made it sound like we worked as a team instead of gradually guessed what Noa had noticed. That probably bothered my cousin but she didn't say anything.

"I think we should maybe call the police." Of course Omar would suggest that. Jill scoffed loudly.

"Omar, what do you think they're going to do? If the cops come they're going to think Jack is guilty."

"Maybe Jack is guilty." Omar pleaded, clearly hoping for the fastest, least stressful solution.

"When I talked to Curtis," I started, deciding to share my private conversation even though a few hours ago they had told me that this was none of my business, "he said he was worried that his brother was being set up."

"By who?" Omar asked.

"Who do you think?" We stood in silence, sharing the same theory. We had a pretty good idea who might have done this. Well, everyone who had been to Wasaga Beach before. If Noa felt left out she didn't say anything, probably too embarassed that this was one answer she didn't know. "I need to get home but we should investigate further before we call the police." I said, trying to dissuade Omar from squealing right away. I glanced at Noa, realizing that I had begun using the word 'investigate'.

"I think they might already be coming here to search." He said nervously.

"How would you know that?" Jill rolled her eyes.

"Because they got a letter from the police." Omar held up the envelope that I had stepped on. I inhaled sharply, making a strange noise, hoping that Noa wasn't looking at me. It was the same picture. The identical weird logo that I had accidentally seen on the letter Noa had given to my parents. The same buffalo head, surrounded by a wreath, topped by a crown. There were words stamped underneath. It was the insignia of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

So, Noa had come with a letter from the RCMP. It made sense. Her cold and calculating demeanor. Her comfort with sneaking into a house. My parents telling me to 'look out' for her. My cousin was a criminal.