But who knew when Chen would arrive in this weather, and coaxing the sheriff out from his comfortable hole would have taken at least an hour. Besides, she wasn’t sure they’d be an effective backup. But Nora? She had to admit, Nora was resourceful, smart, and tough.

After a while the trail turned slick and muddy, and she could clearly make out the hoofprints of Clive’s horse. They had been moving fast, and despite his head start weren’t all that far behind him—at least, judging from the freshness of the prints. When they turned off the established trail, along Hackberry Creek, she could see where Blaze had left prints in the damp grass and pine needles.

“Nora? Hold up for a moment.”

Nora reined in her horse and swung it around.

“That .30-06 is a hunting rifle with a range of a thousand yards. If Benton really is the killer, it’d be suicide to just ride in on him.”

“I was thinking the same thing. But I can’t believe he’s a thief and a murderer. How sure are you—exactly? We don’t want any mistakes that might end in tragedy.”

This was true, and Corrie answered carefully: “I’m not sure. But Benton is up to something, and we need to find out what it is. And he did steal a gun, which suggests he’s ready to use it.”

“Then what we should do,” said Nora, “is find a way to observe him from afar—before we determine how to respond.”

“Makes sense. Any ideas?”

“Yes.” Nora plucked the portable GPS from her pocket, gave it a moment to acquire satellites, then consulted its small screen. “We can ride up Sugarpine Creek to where it tops out, then climb the ridge between it and Poker Canyon. From the top, we should be able to see down into the valley.”

“Is it rideable?”

“We can probably get at least halfway up the ridge, but the last part we’ll have to hike.”

Corrie nodded. “Let’s go.”

They rode up Hackberry Creek to Sugarpine, then turned their horses up the canyon. Nora led the way, occasionally crossing the burbling stream. The rain continued to mist down and the sky darkened to the color of iron. The wind picked up further, the treetops bending before it and exuding the sharp smell of pine resin.

The creek eventually led them into a cirque carpeted by meadows that rose to a series of bare granitic ridges. Here they were close to timberline, and the few surrounding trees were dwarfish and twisted from the harsh wind and weather.

They tied up their horses and started hiking up the grassy slope. It grew steeper, finally turning into a scramble among lichen-splotched boulders. Near the top, they crouched to work their way up to the ridgeline and peered over.

Bingo, thought Corrie. It was a perfect lookout.

About a quarter mile below, she could see the large meadow where the dig site was. The HQ tent appeared as a crisp white rectangle next to the excavated area, which was covered with the bright blue tarps. The trail the expedition had made over weeks of work could be seen winding down through the meadow and into the trees, where it emerged at the campsite half a mile down the canyon. Everything appeared undisturbed, exactly as she had left it the day before, except a whole lot wetter.

She took out her binoculars and glassed the area. There was no sign of Clive, either in the camp or at the dig site. Had he already collected the gold and split?

But then she saw something—a horse. It was Blaze, and he was tied to a tree about a quarter mile above the dig site. Scanning the area, she noticed movement—then spied Clive at the base of the cliffs. He was hard at work, but at what she couldn’t immediately make out. She watched him collect a rock, then another, then carry them to the base of the cliff. There, he fitted each of the rocks into a small cavity at ground level, blocking its entrance.

“I see him.” She handed the binoculars to Nora, who took them and peered through.

“He’s concealing something.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Corrie excitedly. “He’s hiding the gold. Or rather, moving the gold that was already hidden to a more secure location. My forty-eight-hour search must have spooked him.”

“That area he’s in is the red zone,” Nora said. “The portion of cliffs we haven’t dared search because of that huge rotten cornice above it.”

Corrie raised her eyes to the row of peaks far above. The cornice was still there, among snowfields, hanging menacingly. “Makes sense. He knows that’s precisely the place you won’t look. Let me see those binocs again.”

Nora handed them to her. Corrie watched the historian move the rocks, cleverly obscuring the cavity. Then she took a few photos of the scene with her agency camera. “I bet he plans to come back and get it later, once the cornice has fallen. He’ll make some excuse for borrowing the horse and rifle. Then he’ll return once everything has died down—probably in the summer.”

Corrie continued observing as Clive finished placing rocks into the hole at the base of the cliffs, arranging them to look natural. Then he gathered pine needles and leaves and sprinkled them around the area.

“Okay, Agent Swanson—what’s the plan?” Nora asked.

“We can’t face off against a man with a rifle. But we don’t have to: we know where the gold is now. When Clive leaves we can retrieve it. What we’ve just seen is testifiable in court. There’s no need for a confrontation.”

“That means going in the avalanche zone.”

“The overhanging snow has been like that for weeks,” Corrie said. “It didn’t deter Clive. And it won’t fall in the few minutes it takes us to pull out those rocks and retrieve the gold.”

“Clive will get away.”

“One of the first things you learn at the Academy: evidence is key. Get the evidence and you’ve got the perp. The evidence we need of wrongdoing is right there behind those rocks.”

She observed Clive again with the glasses. He was now brushing away the marks he’d left in the grass with a branch. Walking backward, he collected Blaze, untying him and leading him away. Once at a safe distance, he mounted and rode down the canyon. She followed him with the binoculars as he carefully went past the dig site and then down the trail. Another moment and he had disappeared past the camp and into the forest.

They waited fifteen minutes to make sure he was gone before rising and making their way down into the canyon. It was a steep descent, made worse by the slippery pine needles and mud. A rumble of thunder echoed off the peaks and a rising wind pressed down the grass. The rain was increasing.

Once they reached the meadow, it took them only a few minutes to cross to the spot where he’d hidden the gold.

“Let me take some pictures first,” Corrie said, camera in hand.

She took a quick series from a couple of angles, then put the camera away. “Okay. Let’s get these rocks out.”

This was it—the moment that would prove her suspicions had been right all along. Heart pounding, careful not to smile out of sheer relief and pride, Corrie knelt beside Nora and began to uncover the cavity.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of a distant gunshot.

“Get down!” she said, instinctively grabbing Nora and pulling her to the ground.

They flattened themselves in the grass as a series of shots, evenly spaced, rang out, echoing off the canyon walls. It was impossible to pinpoint their source, but the shots sounded far away—and, oddly, they didn’t seem to be directed at them.