They stuffed equipment and additional layers of clothing into the packs. Currently, the weather was sunny and sixty-three degrees. But in late March, night could fall quick and harsh in the North Georgia mountains. The temperature was forecasted to drop to forty overnight, and they had no way of knowing how long they’d be out in the elements.
She’d paired the same hiking boots she’d probably worn the last time she’d come here with leggings and a white long-sleeved athletic shirt. When she put on the backpack, it came down almost to the backs of her knees. She peeked up at Luke and found him watching her with amusement.
“I would’ve bought smaller backpacks,” he said, “but I have no idea how big this treasure might be.”
“If it’s so large that I have to fill this entire backpack, we’re in serious trouble. Not even a pack mule could carry the volume of this thing.”
His eyes twinkled. “I’ll be the pack mule. You don’t have to carry anything you don’t want to.”
“Not to worry. I believe Fabergé eggs are only about this big.” She held her fingers four inches apart.
He grinned.
Why did he have to look like a model for Patagonia? He was a car-loving ex-con. He shouldn’t look so comfortable in his navy fleece, rugged pants, and lace-up boots.
Was there enough time before sundown for her to twine her hands through his hair and press her body to his—
“Ready?” he asked.
She shook herself from her reverie. “Ready.” She dropped another pin in their current location and labeled itLuke’s Bad BoyTruck. She didn’t want them to get lost in the dark on their return hike.
They set off, making their way around brambles, over fallen limbs, through drifts of old leaves.
“Not even a horse cart could carry the volume of this backpack,” she stated.
“Uh-huh.”
She entertained herself with more and more far-fetched scenarios. “Not even a Mack truck could carry the volume of this backpack.” Crunching twigs. “Not even a train car.” Birdsong. “Not even a Learjet.” Cool breeze. “Not even a rocket ship.”
The sun’s rays danced against textured tree bark. The air smelled of pine. Typically, nature relaxed her. Today, its relaxing properties were directly at odds with the nervousness that had been growing within her all day.
It should take just under thirty minutes to reach the site. She hadno ideawhat to expect. Would they find the treasure? If they did, would Luke leave? If he stuck around, how long would he stay?
She’d opened the first clue almost three months ago. Mentally and emotionally, she’d had time to prepare herself to finish the last hunt her father would ever plan for her. Now that the moment had come, however, she didn’t feel prepared. This final stage came wrapped in more questions than answers, which gave her imagination permission to drum up all kinds of scary scenarios.
What treasure did you bury for me, Dad?
She could picture him as he’d been the day of the picnic, in his lightweight hiking pants and National Model Railroad Association T-shirt. His white-gray curls had framed a tan face made even more striking thanks to the grooves that gave it character. She imagined him looking back over his shoulder at her and smiling.
“Hold up,” Luke murmured in an undertone of warning.
She stopped.
He nodded to the right. Straining her eyes, she spotted movement through the trees. A trace of red and brown, followed bya feminine voice and a chuckle. Several yards away and heading toward them, a friendly-looking mom and her teenage son came into view. With a sigh of relief, Finley continued forward. Clearly, these two were not a threat.
Attempting not to look like someone en route to excavate treasure, Finley greeted them. They cheerfully returned her greeting as they passed.
Luke was always vigilant, but the fact that he’d registered the mom and son before Finley informed her that he was on high alert.
As they progressed deeper into the forest, they could no longer hear the sound of cars on the road. They encountered no other humans.
Just a quarter-mile left.
“Almost there.”
Less than seven hundred feet left.
The topography began to open, allowing glimpses of sky ahead. The GPS counted down the remaining feet to her destination.Yes. In general, this felt right. A few more steps, and the terrain dropped downhill, providing an iconic North Georgia landscape of mountains undulating to the horizon. Lake Trahlyta nestled below like a sapphire cushioned in green velvet.
