If Found, Please Return To:

“That’s all it says?”

“Yeah, that’s all it says. The name’s scratched off, look.”

I hand her the small black, leather-bound book, holding it open to the third page.

“Bab, this is crazy. You should just turn it in to the police.”

“We’re not turning this into the police. It’s literally a treasure map!”

“How’d this become we? You found it randomly on a hike. It obviously belongs to someone else.”

“When we find whatever it is, we’ll return it to its proper owner, Cally. We can’t just turn down a treasure hunt. It’s impossible!”

“Alright, alright, show me the map.”

“Map might be a bit of an overstatement. It’s more like a clue. Look, right here,” I point to some scribbled, hastily written notes.

“‘Along the Corridor of the Bryophyta very few flowers grow, words you’ll find, if you tread slow.’”

“Babette, where did you say you found this again?”

“Hiking on the border of Olympic National Park. I doubled back, hoping to find the owner. I didn’t run into a single person the whole way back.”

“You said that it was a treasure map. Why do you think there’s treasure?”

Without answering, I flip to the last page of the book with a satisfied, smug, look on my face.

Crossing her arms, she reads aloud, “... for the $20,000...”

“The rest is smudged, unreadable.”

Cally’s chair creaks as she leans back, taking a deep breath. I stop pacing and sit down, my knee jostling under the table in anticipation. Closing the book lightly, as if it might break, and I look up at Cally.

“So, what should we do?” I say, resolutely pulling my woolen cap down over my unwieldy red curls.

“You know what the clue means, right?” Tilting back onto the two back legs of the chair, Cally stretches to reach for a cold cup of coffee sitting on the countertop behind her, and, taking a sip, smiles.

“It can only be one thing.”

“The Hall of Mosses, in the Hoh Rainforest.”

“Thank god we didn’t skip latin.”

Speeding down the 101, we’re both giddy. We barely speak as we exit the highway and wind down the forest roads that lead to the trailhead we know so well.

“OK, so it said “words you’ll find,” do you think there’s another book, maybe something carved in a tree?”

“No idea, we’re just going to have to keep our eyes open.” I pull the ancient Jeep Wrangler into the parking lot and we hop out, zipping up our jackets against the misty rain that is ever present this season.

One of the most popular in the state, it’s not just beautiful, but short and flat. It’s always crowded. Navigating around the tourists and families, we make our way to the trailhead.

Walking slowly, we look intently at the ground and surrounding trees, periodically calling out to each other to ask if we’ve found anything.

Forty minutes into our walk we are both getting discouraged and then I notice something that we’ve been ignoring.

“Cally, have you been reading the little information boards, the ones that talk about the flora and fauna?”

“I mean, not really, I’ve been looking at them, but not reading them.”

“I think we should go back, we should read them more closely. The clue mentioned words, maybe it wasn’t another book. When you walk too quickly, you don’t read the informational signs, maybe we should.”

Working person over person, we walk about twenty minutes before reaching a plaque featuring the Black Slug (arion ater), an invasive species. Without looking, I back up to see the display from a couple of feet away and knock into another hiker. She drops her water bottle, I kneel to pick it up, apologizing, and see something gleaming underneath the wooden display.

“Cally!” I call out to her as she’s moseying down the path toward me. “Get over here, I think I found something!”

Reaching around, I feel that something’s been taped to the bottom of the wooden stand. Cally joins me just in time to see that what I found is a key.

“All it says on it is ‘stow-it,’ what do you think that means?”

“I think that’s a self-storage place. Let’s get outta here.”

“There's only two in the state of Washington, and the closest one to here is just outside Tacoma. Want to head over? By the time we get there they might be closed, it’s like four hours away.”Cally says, looking up from her phone.

“Wait, wait, that’s a good thing. We don’t have a unit number, we only have a key. If no one’s there, we can just keep trying locks until we find it, right?”

“Hold on…” Cally hits some buttons on her phone and… “Hi, I have a storage unit over there and I was hoping to be able to access it after hours, is it possible to come after you’re closed?” A minute later, she hangs up, “It’s no problem, not only can we poke around, he said that we should be careful, because there are no automatic lights that turn on while they’re closed. So, no one will see us as we try, I don’t know, a hundred locks to find this storage unit.”

After a long drive, a gas station dinner of potato chips, GORP, and a large slushie, we pull into Stow-It Self-Storage.

Grabbing a couple of flashlights from the trunk and stashing the little black book in my pocket, we head in.

“This is just like that time in Karachi, don’t you think?”

“You’re insane, there were only like four storage containers in Karachi, this could take all night!” We smile at each other and Cally inserts the key into storage unit no. 101.

“I guess it couldn’t be that easy.”

By no. 301, we are both a little bored. Round about 10, trying unit no. 450, the key turns.

We look at each other, then at the key, and holding our breath, we roll up the door.

In the corner of the storage space, wrapped in a dark, black fabric is a man. He’s tied to a chair, gagged and staring wide eyed, straight at us.

“Oh my god, is that a person?”

“It appears so, Cally. This might be getting serious.” I start walking forward and Cally grabs my arm.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You can’t untie him.”

“He’s obviously been beat up, we have to help.”

“No offense,” she directs this at the guy staring at us, “but you don’t know if this is one of the good ones.”

“Well, now that’s an idea.” I say, taking a step back.

“It’s police time. It was fun and games, but now it’s a must police situation.”

“You’re right, we don’t even know the extent of his injuries.” I take another step back, as if proximity might force me to free him.

Cally grabs her phone and starts dialing. “Remember Josephine? Her precinct is close to here, right?”

Cally steps outside and I can hear her talking in the distance, but not clearly, as soon as she is out of ear shot I take a few steps forward.

“I’m going to take your gag out, we’re not here to hurt you, as you heard, we’re calling the police.” I look side to side to confirm that he is indeed bound at the arms, hands, and feet. From as far back as possible, I lean forward and pull the gag down. Instead of saying anything, he moves his jaw in circles and takes gasping breaths.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, taking a few steps back.

At this moment Cally comes back in, “The police are on their way, Jo’s coming too, but she said there’s a couple of officers closer that’ll probably get here first. Wait, why’s his gag down?”

“I figured I would try to see who he is, but he hasn't said anything yet.”

Cally looks at him, “Have you been here a long time? Are you hungry?”

He barely responds to the first question, but at the mention of food, his eyes light up and he enthusiastically nods.

“You run to the car, I’ll stay here.” Cally nods, jogging toward the car to grab whatever snacks we have leftover.

“How’re we going to feed you if we don’t know if we can get close to you.” I say, aloud.

“I won’t hurt you.” A soft voice rises from the corner. It sounds like he has an accent, but his voice is pained and low, so I can’t be sure.

“It’s good to hear your voice. I’m Babette, what’s your name?” I move a little closer, carefully keeping my distance.

“My name is Yuri Ivanov. I heard your friend’s question too. I’ve been here a week, I think. I get food and water once a day.”

The name Yuri Ivanov rings a bell, but the bell is in the distance. As I am wracking my brain, Cally walks in with a snickers bar and a bottle of water.

“His name is Yuri Ivanov. Is that name familiar to you?”

Cally smiles at Yuri. presenting the water to him. I tense up as I see her get closer, preparing for this soft spoken guy to jump.

“Thank you.” He says, speaking through bites. Standing up Cally motions with her head to get out of the storage unit.

“What?” I say.

“He’s a witness.”

“What?” I throw my hands up.

“There was a murder in DC last year. A young girl in a train station. The person they arrested was Russian, with mafia ties. There wasn’t much evidence, but there was a witness. Here’s the thing: he went missing, his roommates said he went back to Russia. I am pretty sure his name was Yuri Ivanov.”

“Russian Mafia? More like Karachi than I thought.”

I poke my head in, “Yuri, when do they usually come to feed you?”

“I am not sure.”

“Is it light or dark when they come?”

“It’s light, I think it might be morning, sometimes they have coffee.”

I poke my head back out, “Thank god for that. I don’t want to run into these guys.”

Walking back in, we look around to see if there is anything else to identify his kidnappers. Coming up blank, we pace, giving Yuri water periodically.

After about an hour, we hear sirens and both let out sighs of relief.

The police arrive, with more excitement than the situation warrants. After giving our statements, we watch them untie, identify, and escort Yuri to the hospital. He smiles at us as he’s lifted into the ambulance.

“Hey, Jo! Thanks for your help.”

“You’re thanking me? I should be thanking you! I’m part of the team that brought Ivanov in, this is quite a coup. How’d you find him? You didn’t really get into details.” We tell her about the book, the riddle, the Rainforest, and the treasure.

“Wait, treasure?” She says, laughing.

“Yeah, check it out.” I pull out the book.

“The words in this book are worth $20,000.” She lets out a long whistle, leans against the car, and smiles. “You know who wrote this?”

“No, who?”

“The girl’s family, the one who was killed. They knew the police were looking for Ivanov. They’re fairly wealthy and they put out a reward for $20,000 for any information about his whereabouts. We heard about a couple of independent detectives who were trying to find him for the reward. One of them goes missing, I don’t know all the details, but I know the other guy insisted his friend had found Ivanov and was killed. The last place he was seen? Seattle.” Tapping her foot against the back tire of the Jeep she says “I think you’ll be able to replace this piece of junk now.”

Cally and I look at each other.

“Never.”