“Or someone rigged it,” Brooks said grimly, his gaze sweeping the area. “Trey, we need to get everyone back from the entrance. There could be secondary explosions.”
They retreated to a safer distance, dragging Dr. Martinez and his brother with them.
Nash helped Amy to her feet, quickly checking her for injuries. Beyond a small cut on her cheek and dust covering her from head to toe, she seemed unharmed.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice gruff with concern.
She shook her head. “I’m okay. Are you?”
“Fine,” Nash assured her, though his ears were still ringing from the blast.
Trey surveyed the mine entrance. “Well,” he said flatly, “I guess there’s no more looking inside those tunnels.”
Dr. Martinez coughed, spitting dust from his mouth. “They’re booby-trapped, I swear. But it doesn’t matter because it was a dead end anyway.”
“A dead end you were willing to risk your life exploring?” Amy challenged, her voice sharp with disbelief.
Nash stepped forward, shining his flashlight directly on their faces.
Dr. Martinez squinted against the bright beam, recognition dawning in his eyes when he spotted Nash and Amy. “Professor Blair,” he wheezed. “And Mr. Cross. What a … surprise.”
“Really?” Brooks stepped forward. “Because finding you here, at the exact location we’ve been researching, seems less like a surprise and more like deliberate interference.”
“I don’t have to answer any questions,” the other man spat, struggling against Trey’s hold. “You people have no authority here!”
“Actually,” Chance said, pulling out his sheriff’s badge, “We don’t need authority to hold you for breaking into an abandoned mine shaft. That’s trespassing at minimum.”
In the distance, the wail of sirens grew louder, red and blue lights flashing through the trees.
“Someone called the cops,” Porter muttered.
Dr. Martinez seemed to deflate under their collective gaze. “Please,” he said, his voice smaller now. “My brother doesn’t know what he’s involved in. This is my fault.”
“Don’t say anything else, Richard,” his brother hissed. “These people have no right to interrogate us.”
Nash couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between the two men. Where Dr. Martinez seemed resigned, perhaps even relieved to be caught, his brother radiated defiance.
“Why don’t you start by explaining who your brother is?” Nash suggested, keeping his tone conversational despite the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. His legal training had taught him that sometimes a softer approach yielded more information than direct confrontation.
Dr. Martinez sighed. “This is my brother, George. He lives in Tooele.” His eyes darted between the men holding them. “He’s heard about the Porter Rockwell gold legends his whole life. When I started researching Rockwell’s activities, he … got involved.”
“Involved how?” Trent pressed.
“Don’t answer that!” George snapped.
Dr. Martinez ignored his brother’s warning. “A month ago, a man approached me and said he represented the Ferrante family.” He swallowed hard. “He asked about my research on Porter Rockwell’s gold. He seemed to know about Bill Harris, about Professor Blair’s work …”
Amy stiffened beside Nash. “So you sold Bill and me out?”
The shame in Dr. Martinez’s eyes answered before his words could. “You were connected to Bill. But I have tried to protect you. I told them that you were just an assistant, that you don’t know anything.”
Relief washed over Nash, but it was short-lived. “But theydoknow about her.”
Dr. Martinez shook his head. “I tried to warn you all last night. And clearly, she hasn’t stopped. They questioned me yesterday evening. You should just get out of this situation.”
Amy blinked rapidly. “It’s not so simple.” Her jaw set tighter. “Did you tell them about the tunnels?”
“No. I was trying to figure this out and find something to give them.” Dr. Martinez took a deep breath as if steadying himself for a confession. “There are no leads with the Rockwell gold,” he said flatly. “These tunnels are a dead end. You can search them all you want, but it was all false information.”
