“In 1680, the Indians rose up, killed four hundred settlers and dozens of padres, and drove the rest of the Spanish out of New Mexico. This was the Pueblo Revolt. The Pueblo Indians proceeded to erase every trace of Spanish occupation. They destroyed houses, burned churches, smashed the crosses, and ground up the statues. Anyone who’d been baptized was ritually washed clean. All marriages performed by a padre were dissolved. That’s why it’s rare to find an object that survived the destruction—particularly one made of gold.”

“Why gold in particular?” asked another person.

“The Puebloans had come to think of gold as an accursed metal that made Spaniards crazy, the thing most responsible for their enslavement in the mines. They are said to have blocked up and hidden those mines so the Spanish couldn’t reopen them if they returned. And when the Spanish did return in 1692, some of the mines did, as far as we know, remain hidden.”

The level of excitement and interest in the room had intensified. Gold, Nora thought. The magic word.

“So why would a guy like that be carrying this cross in 1945?”

“We don’t know.”

“He must have gotten it from somewhere.”

“It might have been passed down in the man’s family. He might have found it or stolen it. As I said, there’s no documentary evidence that we’ve been able to find, except the assay marks I mentioned. It’s possible we’ll never know where it came from.”

More hands were up, and a murmur of excited voices filled the room. Morwood, Corrie’s boss, stood up and turned to the group, holding up his arms. A hush fell, and one by one the hands lowered.

“I’d like to remind the group that this is a potential homicide investigation. The gold cross is intriguing, but let’s not take our eye off the ball. We’ve no reason yet to think it’s associated with the man’s death—even if the death is a homicide. What I find more significant are the signs of violence—the cracked skull, the broken ribs, the mule shot in the head. They, not the cross, have bearing on whether the man was the victim of homicide.”

He turned to Corrie. “In your opinion, how serious were the injuries sustained by the victim?”

“None fatal, or even disabling, to be honest. Looks like he might have fallen off his mule.”

This elicited a murmur of laughter.

“I wouldn’t rush to any conclusions,” said Morwood. “He might have been in a fight, and there might also have been internal injuries of a more serious nature. Have you looked into that?”

“Yes, sir. The peritoneal cavity showed no signs of internal bleeding. The organs are still out at the lab, but so far nothing indicates internal damage. The remains are scheduled for a CT scan, which will give us a more definitive answer.”

“Good. And, Dr. Lathrop? I commend you and Agent Swanson for that excellent facial reconstruction.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Lathrop. “Thank you indeed!”

*

Corrie walked down from the stage. She couldn’t believe that shithead Lathrop had hogged the credit for her reconstruction. Maybe she should have objected when Morwood had suggested, ever so gently, that Lathrop be the one to present the findings. She had agreed—and then he’d flat-out stolen credit for her work.

She saw Nora approaching. “Great presentation,” Corrie told her. “Much appreciated, thanks.”

“Glad to help.” Nora looked at her closely. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Corrie under her breath as she gathered her files together and put away her computer.

While the room emptied, Morwood came up and shook Nora’s hand. “I want to thank you, Dr. Kelly, for speaking today.”

“Of course.”

“There was quite a lot of interest in the cross, as you saw.”

“Gold, gems, lost mines—that gets people’s attention.”

“Sometimes too much.” He turned to Corrie. “A fine piece of work with the reconstruction.”

“You should know, sir,” Corrie began, “that Dr. Lathrop took credit for work that I—”

Morwood held out a hand. “Dr. Lathrop is the world’s expert on telling a horse skull from a mule skull. Is that what you’re about to tell me? Because I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

Corrie fell silent, her face coloring.

Morwood’s voice softened. “A bit of advice: let others share credit, even if undeserved. It’ll work wonders for your career.” He leaned forward. “I know who did the reconstruction, and I’m the one who counts.”

“Yes, sir.”

Morwood turned to Nora. “I’d like a private word with Corrie, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

Nora left the two alone in the conference room. Corrie could see a stern look gathering on Morwood’s face. “I need to speak to you about Brad Huckey,” he said.

Corrie folded her arms. “What about him?”

“You and I have had several conversations about how important it is to get along with everyone, even those who are difficult. At the FBI, we place a high premium on maintaining good working relationships. It’s the nature of our business to come in contact with unsavory, retrograde, obnoxious, and even criminal individuals.”