Nash looked at the map again, the significance of the symbol sinking in. “Bird Island,” he murmured. “Where the Stone family search began.”
Trey nodded grimly. “I guess we’re going back to where it all started.”
CHAPTER 16
Rain pounded against the windows of the Park City rental house, matching Amy’s somber mood perfectly. She spread Bill’s notes across the massive dining table, her fingers tracing his familiar handwriting one last time.
There was no Porter Rockwell gold.
The truth hit her like a physical blow, leaving a hollow feeling in her chest. For months, she’d been so certain. So hopeful. She’d poured everything into researching Porter Rockwell, convinced he’d hidden a treasure that would connect to her father’s death.
But it had all been a wild goose chase.
“Find anything new?”
She looked up to see Nash approaching, two steaming mugs in hand. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he’d changed into fresh clothes that somehow made him look casual and put together at the same time.
“Just confirmation of what we already know,” she sighed, accepting the coffee gratefully. “It was all for nothing.”
Nash took the seat beside her, his knee brushing against hers. “Hey, it wasn’t for nothing. It led us to Truman’s map, to the connection with Bird Island. That’s something.”
“I know.” Amy couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from her voice. “It’s just … I wanted it to be real. For Bill’s sake.”
Nash reached out, covering her hand with his. The simple touch sent warmth spiraling through her.
“I think I just wanted to find gold,” she admitted softly. “Any gold. As if finding treasure would somehow make sense of everything that happened to me—my father’s death, witness protection, eight years of living someone else’s life.”
“That’s understandable.”
“To South Carolina.” Amy nodded. “Back to where the Stone family’s search began.”
“Back to the beginning,” Nash agreed.
The sliding door opened with a whoosh, letting in a gust of cool mountain air as Trey entered, followed by Brooks, Porter, and Marshall. “Flights are arranged,” Brooks announced. “Two private planes leaving in three hours. Stones first, then Crosses.”
“What about the damage to this house?” Nash asked, glancing toward the boarded-up area where the intruder had broken in.
Trey pulled out his phone. “Already handled. Got a contractor coming to make repairs.”
“And Dr. Martinez?” Amy asked.
“In protective custody,” Brooks confirmed. “Him and his brother both. Plus his wife and family. They’re more afraid of the Ferrantes than federal charges.”
Blaze walked inside and looked up from his phone. “I’ve been going over those photos from the mine. The way that blast was set—it wasn’t amateur work. Whoever rigged it knew exactly what they were doing.”
“Professionals,” Porter agreed, leaning against the table. His gaze fell on Amy’s notes. “So it’s settled? No more chasing Porter Rockwell’s ghost?”
Amy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “There never was any Rockwell gold—just the conquistador treasure, which somehow got linked to his name through legends over the years.”
“And now we follow the only real lead we have,” Marshall said. “Bird Island. The palm leaf symbol combined with the broken arrow.”
“What exactly is Bird Island?” Amy asked, trying to focus on the conversation at hand rather than Nash’s call. “I’ve read a little about the Stone family’s gold hunt, but not many details.”
Trey spread a nautical chart across the table. “Small island off the coast of South Carolina. Not far from South Port, where my family lives.”
“It’s where we found the first piece of gold,” Marshall added. “The one with the palm leaf inscription. Our parents left clues there.”
Amy leaned forward, studying the chart with interest. The island wasn’t large—maybe a mile across at its widest point.
