“Nora Kelly.”

Corrie took a deep breath. “Dr. Kelly, you told me earlier that Clive Benton was the originator of this excavation. When exactly did he approach you?”

“Last November.”

“Could you go over the circumstances for me?”

Even with the recorder going, she took notes as Nora described how he’d found Tamzene Donner’s journal and brought the idea to the Institute.

“And who at the Institute approved it?”

“The president, Dr. Jill Fugit. And the board.”

“So the Institute agreed to finance it? On the strength of an old journal? This would seem to be an expensive expedition.”

“Yes, the Institute is financing it.”

Corrie picked up on the uneasiness in her tone. “Financing it how? Through private donations? Grants?”

The archaeologist hesitated again. “There’s something you probably don’t know yet. Regarding the financing.”

“Go on.”

“The Institute hopes to recoup the cost of the expedition by…recovering a hoard of gold believed to have been hidden near the camp.”

Corrie could hardly believe what she’d just heard. “You mean, as in buried treasure?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Would you please explain?”

Corrie listened as Nora related the history of Wolfinger’s chest of gold, his murder, and the gold coins they had discovered on two sets of remains. “We believe the rest is hidden close by,” she said in conclusion.

“Have you been looking for it?”

“Yes. After Peel left. We thought it best to—to get that part of the expedition safely out of the way, if possible.”

“But you haven’t found it?”

Nora shook her head.

“What’s the total estimated value?”

“Twenty million dollars.”

It took Corrie a moment to process this. “Twenty million? And it goes to the finder?”

“No. It’s to be divided, a third to the state of California, a third to the feds, and a third to the Institute. For obvious reasons, we have to keep that aspect of the expedition under wraps. But it’s all spelled out in the fine print of the permits.”

Corrie scribbled in her notebook, trying not to appear incredulous at this revelation. She considered asking Nora why she hadn’t mentioned it before, but realized she’d probably get an evasive answer. The archaeologist had not exactly been cooperative, failing to notify her when she found the Parkin skeleton, and she sure as hell hadn’t mentioned anything about any gold on Corrie’s brief first visit to the camp. There was something bizarre, if not fishy, going on up here, she now felt sure—and she felt equally sure that, one way or another, it was linked to the missing Parkin remains she was investigating.

“Who else knows about the gold?” she asked.

“Everyone in camp. A few individuals at the Institute. We’ve obviously been keeping the information restricted. The last thing anybody wants is for this place to be overrun with treasure seekers.”

“So Peel knew of the gold?”

“Actually, no. He left before we confided in the full team.”

“And Dr. Benton?”

“He was the one who first became aware of its existence.”

Corrie paused. This was such an unexpected turn, she was finding it hard to formulate questions.

“Getting back to Peel’s death,” she said. “What were his relations with the others in camp?”

“He was a bit of a loner. I never got to know him well.”

“No conflicts?”

“Not that I knew of. No friends, either.”

“Nobody who might have reason to want him dead?”

Nora stared at her. “You don’t think Peel was murdered, do you?”

Corrie pondered this. She wasn’t sure of the answer herself—but stirring the pot now just might produce results.

“It’s possible.”

“Anything’s possible. Why would you think that?”

“My understanding is that Peel was an expert horseman and wilderness guide,” said Corrie. “He had a headlamp. Most important, there was a contusion on his head that looked like it might have happened prior to the fall.”

“You mean, he was clobbered on the head and then thrown off the cliff?”

“Yes.”

“I saw Peel’s head. It was a mess, and I noticed several contusions—not just one. How can you be sure they weren’t caused by the fall?”

This was, unfortunately, a fair question. Given the environmental conditions and the state of the body, Corrie couldn’t answer it—not without a meticulous examination at a forensic lab. So she said nothing.

“But who would have done it? I mean, as far as I know, we’re the only people up here.”

Corrie let the tension build. Silence, she had been taught in interrogation classes, was one of the most effective tools.

“Are you suggesting,” Nora said, her voice rising, “it was one of us?”

“We can’t rule out unknown persons up in these mountains, but that scenario seems less likely.”

Nora stared in disbelief and growing anger. “And this is why you want to question us?”

“Yes.”

“I can tell you, none of us are killers. Besides, why would anyone murder Peel?”

“In recent months, three Parkin graves have been robbed and a grave digger murdered. A living Parkin has disappeared, presumably murdered as well. And now another Parkin skull is missing—and the man who stole it is dead under suspicious circumstances.” She paused. “Someone seems awfully interested in the Parkin family.”

Nora shook her head. “It just seems so crazy. Why?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

Corrie could see Nora was shaken up. “Could you please ask Dr. Benton to come in? And after him I’d like to question your archaeological team, and the others tomorrow.”

34

AFTER NORA LEFT, Corrie took a moment to jot some questions in her notebook and check the recording she’d just made while waiting for Dr. Benton to arrive. The tent was pleasantly warm, the air fresh. It was nice being in the mountains, even if this was her first real job in the field and she felt stressed out as a result. She took another deep breath and tried to tamp down her nervousness. The practice interrogation sessions at the Academy had been straightforward, leaving her ill-prepared for the sort of investigation she was engaged in now—in which she could see no motive, develop no hypothesis of a crime. All she had were a lot of disconnected facts and coincidences, along with a gut feeling.

One of the things she’d been taught at the Academy was to clarify the facts, work chronologically, and—especially—resist forming ideas. But as Clive Benton entered the tent, Corrie realized she had already formed an idea about him, and it wasn’t good. The man was not a slope-shouldered, meek, bespectacled historian; he was tall and fit, not rugged exactly, but with a good-looking, weather-beaten face from which two baby-blue eyes looked out at her own. Maybe it was the good looks that put her off, but more likely it was the fact that he, and no one else, had set in motion the events that led to the discovery of Albert Parkin’s skull—now, unfortunately, missing.