“How do you know that?”
He figured he might as well just tell her. After all, she had shared some pretty deep secrets about her own life and her family. “I’ve recently seen a letter between my family, their family, and a Mr. Harris from Salt Lake in regards to the Porter Rockwell gold. But there was nothing else in the letter, and we don’t know why he reached out to our fathers.”
“You thinkMr. Harrisfrom the letter is Bill Harris, the BYU professor?”
He shrugged. “It seems like it fits.”
“Hmm,” she said, seeming to ponder. “What else can you tell me about your search for gold?”
He hesitated.
“Hey, I’ve already told you a lot,” she said.
He figured he did need the help, and maybe she would know something he didn’t. “The broken arrow symbol. My family first found it on decommissioned missile silos on our ranch. My father was a Navy SEAL who helped decommission them.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Missile silos? On your ranch?”
Nash nodded. “Hidden ones that weren’t on any official maps.”
“That’s … not what I expected,” she admitted. “In my research, the broken arrow is connected to Porter Rockwell through a group called the Danites—a sort of protective force in early Mormon history. Rockwell was one of their leaders.”
He hesitated. “And you think Rockwell hid gold in the mountains? Gold that somehow connects to the conquistador gold my family has been tracking?”
Sadie ran a hand through her hair, dislodging more strands from her ponytail. “I don’t know. That’s what Bill and I were trying to figure out. He believed the broken arrow marked caches of various valuable items—not just gold, but documents,weapons, artifacts. Things the early Mormon settlers wanted to protect or hide.”
Nash’s mind was racing now, legal training kicking in as he connected dots. “I wonder if he found that out from my father?”
She shrugged. “Could be.”
His phone buzzed. It was on the group text thread with Porter and Trey.
There was a Bill Harris from Salt Lake City in their Bravo unit,Trey had texted.
“What does it say?” She must have seen something tense in his face.
His heart was racing as he told her what the text said.
“Wow,” she said softly.
“We need to have a meeting. Everyone needs to know this.”
“No.” Sadie sat up straighter, wincing as she jostled her ankle. “Absolutely not. The fewer people who know about this, the better.”
He grunted. “Too late. The Stones and the Crosses have been in this for years together. We’ve dealt with threats, violence—they even had a fire at the ranch that was definitely arson. Mafia ties that were used to sell the gold. They’re already involved whether you want them to be or not.”
Sadie looked genuinely distressed at this information. “That’s exactly why you should stay away from me, from all of this. People get hurt, Nash. People die.”
“Which is precisely why we need to work together,” Nash countered. “More resources, more protection, more chances of figuring this out before anyone else gets hurt.”
She shook her head firmly. “No way. I work alone. It’s safer that way.”
Nash couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Safer? Your research partner was murdered a week ago. Your security system might as well have a neon sign saying ‘paranoid residentlives here.’ And you’re clearly injured. How exactly is that safer?” He gestured to her. “Plus, we’ve just shared information.”
She scoffed, then looked horrified. “Ohmygosh, I need to think. This is all happening too fast. Please go.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“Go!” she shouted.
