“Hell yeah.”
My smile came unbidden. I liked Allen. Anyone who could hang out in a muddy hole in the ground for more than a century without losing his mind or developing a severe case of social dysfunction was okay in my book. “I’ll make some calls as soon as I get a chance.”
His hands traveled up and down the front of his coveralls again. “Thank you.”
“Here you go.” Bowman came to a stop on my left holding a Styrofoam cup topped with a plastic lid. I took it eagerly. “You havin’ a chat with yourself out here?”
So much for me looking sane and normal… “Just going over the case.” I pulled back a small flap on the lid, and damp puffs of fragrant steam wafted toward my face. The coffee smelled good.
Bowman smiled as if he didn’t believe me, and my jaw clenched. “My office manager used to do that. She swore she could hear someone talking to her out here, when no one else was around.”
Blowing gently through the hole in my coffee cup lid, I arched my eyebrows at James Allen, who had the grace to appear a little ashamed.
“Natalie Hayes. Cute little thing. Loves the snow. Has no idea she’s a minor psychic. She can hear me, but she can’t see me. I told her I was young, handsome, and virile.”
I nearly choked on my coffee, trying not to laugh.
“You okay?” Bowman asked, oblivious to Allen grinning at me over his shoulder. The foreman pounded me on the back, and I waved him off, nodding to assure him I was fine. “Anything I can help with?” He cradled his own cup in both hands.
“Yes, actually.” I cleared my throat, dislodging the last of the inhaled coffee. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Ask away.”
“I’ve heard rumors about Oak Island, about the pit in particular. Did you see anything strange during your time here? Anything to support stories of curses and hauntings, other than the office manager’s odd behavior?”
Bowman stared into the snow on my left and sipped from his cup. “There’s nothing to those rumors. I’ve heard them too, but I never saw anything weird out here, except Natalie talking to herself. And she was weird even away from the pit, so that doesn’t really mean anything.”
“He’s lying.” Allen’s voice was calm and completely nonjudgmental. He didn’t seem to mind the foreman bending the truth to stay within his own comfort zone. Most humans did it unconsciously, depending upon denial to preserve their sanity.
I wanted some specifics from Allen, but I had to at least appear to address my questions to Bowman, and I couldn’t exactly ask the foreman for details about something he denied having seen. I’d have to work the subject back around carefully.
“Mr. Bowman, did you and your crew know what you were digging for before you brought the box up?”
“Not specifically, no.” He met my gaze that time, and I knew he was telling the truth. “We were supposed to pull up everything we found in the hole and to ship it back to Mr. Devich. He had a helicopter standing by here to carry it to Halifax, and from there his cargo plane was supposed to take it to him, somewhere in the States.” He paused for another sip of coffee. “Most of the men thought we were looking for buried treasure.”
“And the rest?” The hot paper cup felt wonderful in my near-frozen hands, and I almost hated to drink from it and lose the warmth.
“They thought Devich was out of his mind for spending so much time and money on a fool’s errand, but they were willing to do the work, so long as he was paying well. And hedidpay well.”
I glanced surreptitiously at Allen as I sipped from my cup, and he nodded, verifying the foreman’s information. “We thought the same thing back in my day. We were hunting treasure, same as the group after me. None of us worked for anyone named Devich, though.”
That was no surprise. Allen had been dead for more than a century, and Troy Devich had only held the deed to Oak Island for ten years. I’d double-checked that myself.
“Mr. Bowman, were you here when they brought up the box?”
Bowman was staring at the ground again, to the left of the pit, drinking his coffee in long gulps now. When he didn’t answer, Allen nodded for him, crossing long arms over the front of his coveralls. “He was here. They wereallhere.” His words came out in one long string, in an apparent rush to be heard before the foreman started speaking. “The diggers hit the top of the box that morning, and by the time they were ready to pull it up, word had spread. Workers came—”
“Yeah, I was here,” Bowman said, unknowingly interrupting the wraith. “I saw the box. It was long, and carved out of—”
“—in on their day off to watch.” Allen stopped when he realized Bowman was speaking, leaving me to piece together parts of both statements.
“—some kind of stone. Granite, maybe, or something similar. The damn thing was heavy enough to strain the gantry, which should’ve been impossible even it was filled with rocks. Or iron. I knew before they even had it out of the ground that we’d found what Devich was looking for. What we’dallbeen looking for.”
“Wait, let me get this straight.” My right hand went to my temple, rubbing out of habit as I sorted through what I’d just heard. “The box was long and carved from granite, and workers came in on their day off to see it pulled up? Right?”
Allen nodded.
Bowman’s bushy brows furrowed. “How the hell did you know that? I didn’t mention the workers.”
