The Outer Banks. Not only two months has gone by and a town once made for friends and foes, for pogues and kooks, for midsummer parties, and keggers has turned into a town of murder, lies, and four-hunderd-million dollars worth of missing gold.
Kie, JJ, and Pope had grieved for their two best friends for months, shedding a seemingly endless amount of tears, and sending countless hopes and prayers to whoever in the universe would listen that John B. and Sarah would run out of the chateaux at any minuet, or come riding through the marsh in the phantom, or walking off the fairy platform. But time has gone by, and tears have dried, and the three remaining friends, thick as thieves in the beginning have drifted away, because even just looking at each other brought painful memories of the ones they had lost. Even the town, who was vigilant in the beginning, had stopped sending search and rescue. The Camerons, or what was left of their broken family had seemingly vanished in the midst of the search for their loving daughter and were thought to be searching overseas on any land that was close enough for them to possibly land on.
For no one in the town knew that the two believed to be lost at sea, much like they believed of Big John, were miraculously rescued in the middle of the ocean after flagging down a ship by shining seven pounds of pure gold in the sun.
For the two lovers, although burdened every night with the thought of leaving their friends behind, headed to Nassau in hopes of reclaiming the treasure they worked so hard to find, only they had no idea where it was.
