She pointed at him. “And that we ended up in Provo Canyon at the same time.”
Nash nodded. “Another curiosity.”
They arrived back at his place, which was an older home in a nice area of the Avenues. Ever since he’d bought it, he’d been working on it in his off hours, which weren’t many. He put the car in park outside the garage. It would be easier to get the groceries in the house through the front door, because he had so much stuff shoved into the garage.
The Avenues neighborhood was one of the oldest in Salt Lake City, with tree-lined streets and historic homes. Nash’s place was a craftsman-style bungalow built in the early 1900s, with a deep front porch and classic architectural details. Inside, he’d been gradually restoring the original woodwork and updating the kitchen and bathrooms.
He cut the engine, and they carried the groceries inside.
Sadie stood in his kitchen, watching as he put things away. She seemed upset, arms folded across her chest, eyes darting to the windows occasionally.
“What’s up?”
“Do you think someone is watching me?” she asked abruptly.
Nash paused, a box of organic pasta in his hand. “Why do you ask that?”
“That student. In the store.” She rubbed her arms as if cold. “It just made me realize how … exposed I am. How many people know me as Sadie Blair.”
Nash set down the pasta and turned to face her. “I don’t know, but I need to tell you something else because I want to be transparent with you.”
“Okay.”
“Brooks found some information about Bill Harris.”
Her eyes widened. “What kind of information?”
“He had some suspicious bank deposits before his death. From an offshore account. And he met with someone connected to an organized crime family. They specialize in art theft and smuggling antiquities.”
“Gold smuggling,” she whispered.
“Possibly.”
Sadie sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “Bill never said anything about … I mean, he seemed completely above board. A respected professor. I can’t imagine him involved with criminals.”
“Maybe he didn’t know who he was dealing with,” Nash suggested. “Or maybe he played you.”
They fell silent, both lost in thought.
Nash continued unpacking groceries, giving her space to process. “Also, it appears that Bill Harris was a Navy SEAL with my father and the Stone's father.”
“What?” She looked completely confused.
“I told you about that letter between them.”
“Right.”
“Well, we don’t know anything except that he served with them.”
“Wow,” she said, reeling back. “I … he never mentioned that. I mean, we always just discussed the research. We never really shared personal things.”
Silence fell between them again.
“What if …” Sadie began, then hesitated. “What if Bill found something? Something valuable enough that these people would kill for it?”
“Like what?” Nash prompted.
“I don’t know. We were researching locations, not artifacts. But maybe he made a discovery he didn’t share with me.”
