The next day, as I walked back out to the main area, I heard my parents and Mr. Savage speaking in hushed tones.

“I’m going to be honest with you, things aren’t looking good for the show,” Mr. Savage said. “We haven’t gotten a shot of the Mega Croc, Feye got his hand glued to a croc, Connor nearly gotten eaten by another croc … It’s a bit of a disaster. We’re running out of time, and if we don’t get the right shots, we don’t have a show.”

Dad muttered something, but I couldn’t make it out.

“This is how I pictured the show: We open up to dramatic mangrove scenery with you two whizzing out on a boat. An ominous voice talks about the Mega Croc legend in the background, and how you heard of a big injured croc that might be this legendary predator. You guys and the kids teach us about the unique wildlife of Cuba and how humans coexist with the animals here, like Adrianna’s bit with the working dogs. We tag some crocs, we continue looking for this monster. And then we find it and BAM. Legend confirmed!”

“Rick, it sounds like most of that has been filmed,” my mom said.

“But not the most dramatic scenes—we really need that Mega Croc to sell the show,” Mr. Savage continued.

“We’ve told you our thoughts about this ‘Mega Croc’ theory you have, Rick,” my dad said. “Are there some big crocs here? Yeah, definitely. But one as big as this legend? I highly doubt it. We thought this show was mainly about rescuing the injured croc.”

I scurried up to Feye’s room and banged on his door.

“Yes?” he asked, unamused.

“The show is in trouble and we still haven’t found the injured crocodile. We should help!”

“How?”

“Can you get the maps of the area we’re in that Mom and Dad are using? I only have mine and I don’t think it’s complete,” I said.

Feye disappeared for a moment, returning with a pile of maps that he spread out on his bedroom floor. I grabbed my version of the map and handed it to him.

His map included red X’s on most of the locations Mom and Dad had visited so far. Feye began drawing more red X’s on each mangrove channel that our parents had explored while I was filming the dog segment. He circled the channels they were still planning to visit. We gazed at the ones that were left.

“There aren’t that many to look through now, which is why Mr. Savage is worried,” Feye said. “If they haven’t found it yet, they think it might’ve died or been captured by those poachers you told Mark, Alice, and Connor about.” He shrugged, looking at the notes the local guides had given them on each channel. He began drawing another X on a mangrove channel.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pointing.

“According to these notes, there is no way the crocodile could be here. The map from the locals shows there was a channel there once, but their notes say it’s pretty much dried up,” Feye said, waving the papers in his hand.

His attention went back to the papers, and after a few silent minutes of me staring at him while he read, he wrote another X on a channel. “The maps from today and back in the 1980s are so different that they almost don’t look the same. The notes are helping me figure out what is still here and what isn’t,” Feye explained.

“Give me a page of notes and let me see if I can help,” I said. Feye handed me a page with handwriting that was hard to read. Hard, but not impossible. Feye definitely had worse handwriting, and I could make out what he wrote most of the time. We sat there in silence for who knows how long, but at the end, we were able to cross off a few more until there were only five options left.

“Can you hand me that map of this area from the 1980s?” I asked, startling Feye. He looked through the pile of papers he had given me earlier, which I had put aside, and finally found it.

“Here!” he said, passing me the map. “What are you looking for?”

I didn’t answer him, too busy scanning the map for any clues. Suddenly … could it be? YES! “Eureka!” I yelled, jumping up. Duke barked in protest, startling both of us. When did he get in here?!

“Look at this, Feye,” I said, ignoring Duke. I’d deal with his escapades later. I went to his open window and closed it, then held the map from the 1980s up to the window’s light and the current map on top of it. “This map on top is from today. The map behind is from the eighties. Do you see how there is a channel in the older map? They left one out!”

“Do you think it was done on purpose?” he asked, looking at his own copy of the map from today.

“Maybe. Before we left, I read in a book from the library about how sometimes secret channels could be used to hide from police or smuggle drugs. That might be why it got left off this map,” I said.

My brother smiled. “My sister is so cool sometimes. You cracked the mystery with your map-reading skills! We’ve got to tell Mom and Dad,” he said.

Feye and I ran downstairs.

“Mom! Dad!” I shouted. “Feye and I found a secret mangrove channel!” Reaching the two of them and Mr. Savage at the table, I unrolled the map of the mangroves. Feye stood behind me, quiet. I looked back at him and he nodded in encouragement. “Maybe the crocodile is hiding here because not as many boats enter,” I said, pointing.

Our parents looked it over and my dad smiled.

“So, what do you say? Mom? Dad?” I asked, looking at them both.

Our mom looked at the map once again and frowned. “I’m not sure. These old maps aren’t always reliable …”

Feye backed me up. “We haven’t found the injured croc anywhere else. We have to at least try.”

“We don’t have any evidence this channel hasn’t dried up or is even there still,” Dad said.

“One surefire way to check if it’s there is to go and look!” Feye suggested.

Dad didn’t look convinced.

“Or … it’s a long shot …” I said, mostly to myself, but apparently it was loud enough for my family to look at me. “Mom, do we have any information from that crocodile we tagged earlier?” I asked.

“Well, let’s take a look at the latest data.” Mom took her laptop out from the backpack slung on the chair behind her. With a few taps on her keyboard, she brought up the live animal-tracking software.

“It has definitely gotten around quite a bit,” Dad said, looking over Mom’s shoulder.

Mr. Savage nodded, his eyes scanning the map as well.

“Are there any of those dots by this hidden channel?” I asked. I gave Dad the hard copy maps so he and Mom could compare them to the screen.

“Maybe this crocodile was stressed after we captured it and went to the secret channel to rest,” I said.

None of the adults said anything for a little bit, until Mr. Savage suddenly pointed from the maps to the laptop and let out a gasp. “They’re right!”