“You know,” Clive said as the two riders disappeared, “there were a lot of things to worry about with this project, but I never expected something like this.”

Nora sighed as she reached for the sat phone. “I guess I’d better call the Institute.”

Clive groaned. “The optics of this are terrible. First, I promised them twenty million in gold and all we found were ten dinged-up coins.” He paused. “And now a good portion of the artifacts have been stolen. I’m sure glad I don’t have to make that call.”

“Thanks,” said Nora sarcastically as she dialed the Institute.

26

AN HOUR LATER, Nora and Clive hiked back up to the dig site. Nora’s conversation with Dr. Fugit had not been pretty. After hearing about the theft, the president had delivered a chilly lecture on security and professionalism. And then she asked about the gold, and Nora had to admit they’d found only ten coins so far and there was a good chance no more existed. Fugit seemed even more upset about this than about the stolen bones and threatened to shut down the excavation entirely. In fact, she was going to call an emergency meeting of the trustees to discuss just that.

A total disaster.

As Nora looked over the site, Adelsky brought over the list of specific damages to the individual quads. Nora felt, if not exactly relief, a little less sick to her stomach. It wasn’t quite as bad as it had seemed at first. Peel had tampered with six of the quads—the four that made up the front face of the midden heap and the two containing the skeleton of the Carville girl. He hadn’t touched Spitzer and Reinhardt, the rear of the midden, or the test quads they’d done some preliminary work on.

“We noticed something odd,” said Adelsky. “The midden heap is all messed up, the bones pulled out higgledy-piggledy, boot prints all over. But the Carville bones were taken out piece by piece, with the utmost care—and with no boot prints in the excavated area.”

He took Nora over to the Carville quads. Nora peered in. “It looks as if that skeleton simply got up and walked off on its own.”

“Maybe it did,” Salazar said with a snort.

Nora grimaced. “Hey, Clive, take a look at this.”

Clive came over. He frowned, looking into the shallow hole. “Maybe he was more careful because it was a child—and the skeleton was almost intact.”

“Or,” said Nora, “perhaps Peel took the Carville bones first and then, while he was collecting bones from the midden heap, he realized it was taking him too long, or he thought he heard someone coming, and began to rush things.”

“Maybe,” said Clive. “What now?”

“I think we’d better remove any artifacts of value,” she said, “and lock them in the strongbox. I don’t want the chance of any more thefts.”

“Agreed,” Clive said.

There weren’t many: a gold medallion, a silver cross, some gold and silver rings, and a silver belt buckle. Nora used tweezers to remove each one from its matrix of soil and place it into a labeled artifact bag. Then she carried them into the work tent. She opened the strongbox and took out the plastic container with the ten gold coins, and then—on a whim—unlatched the container’s lid. They were all there, gleaming, nestled in the withered and split remains of the leather pouches that had once held them. One at a time, she took out each coin, laid it in a specimen tray, and examined it. All were ten-dollar gold eagles minted in Philadelphia, uncirculated when withdrawn from the bank, but scratched and dented after having been carried inside boots for a couple of months.

“Sad, isn’t it,” said Clive, peering over her shoulder. “Pretty low grade from a numismatic point of view.”

“Yeah. Funny how the rumor grew—that Wolfinger was carrying a fortune. They murdered him over a hundred dollars.”

“They were fooled. Just like we were.”

A silence fell over the work tent as Nora looked at the coins. All dated 1846. Out of nowhere an idea began to form in her head. A strange idea.

She turned to Clive. “Remind me, please. When you found that Independence bank ledger, you said a withdrawal of a thousand ten-dollar coins had been made. Correct?”

“Not exactly. The ledger indicated the bank had received a thousand coins in anticipation of a withdrawal. But beyond that, the records were damaged. I couldn’t determine who withdrew the money, whether it was a single person or many people. I only know Wolfinger made a withdrawal because of that note from the bank.”

“Were other people listed? Who’d made withdrawals that week, I mean?”

“It’s possible, but as I told you and Dr. Fugit, those ledger pages were spoiled by silverfish. I assumed Wolfinger had withdrawn the entire ten thousand in preparation for his trip west. That was my big mistake.”

“Let me put this a different way. When we found only ten coins on Spitzer and Reinhardt, and nothing else in their camp, we decided that’s all there was.”

“Seemed logical.”

“What happens if, instead, we assume Wolfinger did withdraw a thousand coins?”

Clive shrugged, as if to humor her. “So where are they?”

“Hold on and let me finish. If we assume Spitzer and Reinhardt did steal a chest with a thousand coins, what would they do? Hide it, of course. But before they hid it, they’d take some money out and keep it on their persons.”

Clive shook his head. “If that was the case, why would they be carrying around any money at all, when they had no place to spend it?”

“Because they anticipated being rescued. They would need that money when they got to California, so they could outfit an expedition to come back and retrieve the rest.”

Clive looked at her.

“Think about it. If they didn’t have some gold on their persons, they’d arrive in civilization destitute.” She gestured toward the coins. “These coins aren’t evidence that Wolfinger’s treasure doesn’t exist—but that it does.”

Clive was silent a long moment, thinking. “You know, that makes a lot of sense. But then why didn’t we find the strongbox at their campsite?”

“Because they hid it well. They weren’t going to leave it lying around their camp or hidden in the snow nearby. They’d put it in a place where they could come back and get it later without fear of someone else finding it. Especially after the snow melted.”

“Nora? Clive?” A voice boomed out. They turned to see Burleson in the doorway to the tent. He was staring at the coins spread out on the tray.

A silence settled.

He stepped inside. “Drew and I tried to catch up to Peel, but with no luck. It seems that instead of going directly down the trail to town, he took some other route through the mountains.” He pushed his hat back on his head. “I’ve got Wiggett tracking him, and I’ve got Red Mountain staff on horseback looking to intercept him if he emerges on any of the Forest Service roads around Truckee. One way or another, you’ll get your bones back.”

His gaze swiveled up slowly toward their faces. “Now. What’s with the gold?”

27

WHAT ABOUT IT?” Nora said, after a moment.