Page 135 of Hidden Tide

“My compass is already here,” I say.

“It is.”

Marquez removes a clear evidence container from her case and places it on the table.

My brass compass rests inside.

For most of my life, it meant freedom.

Grandpa gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday and told me I would never be lost as long as I trusted what I knew.

Now I wonder whether he was giving me directions.

Or evidence.

“May I hold it?” I ask.

Marquez hesitates, then pulls on gloves and removes the compass.

“You can examine it while I’m holding it.”

She opens the cover.

The needle trembles before settling north.

The face looks exactly as it always has.

Storm leans closer. “Did the lab remove the glass?”

“The blue prism is beneath the brass base, not beneath the face. They haven’t removed it yet because doing so may damage the mechanism.”

“Grandpa expected Calle to use the compass,” Thomas says. “He wouldn’t hide film where ordinary movement or moisture could destroy it.”

I study the engraved words inside the lid.

TRUST THE CURRENT.

Grandpa said that constantly.

I always believed it meant I should stop fighting things I couldn’t control.

“What if it isn’t advice?” I ask.

“What else would it be?” Ben asks.

“A direction.”

I take Marquez’s gloved hand and turn the compass.

Light from the ceiling moves across the glass.

The needle swings.

North.

East.

South.