“Because I’ve been searching for Thomas Wolf’s legacy for forty years,” she says, her voice taking on a passionate edge. “My great-grandfather worked with him in those mines. They were partners until the mining company forced them out.”
The story sounds plausible, but I’m not ready to trust her yet. “If that’s true, why all the secrecy? Why not just tell us from the beginning?”
“Would you have believed me?” Margret counters. “A stranger showing up at your door with tales of hidden gold?” She shakes her head. “Besides, I needed to make sure you were the kind of people who would do the right thing with what you found.”
“And what is the ‘right thing’?” Caleb asks, his voice cool.
Before Margret can answer, Scout’s head whips toward the entrance, his growl deepening into a warning bark.
“Someone’s coming,” I whisper, my heart suddenly pounding.
Caleb moves swiftly despite his injury, positioning himself where he can see both Margret and the doorway. “Is this a setup?” he demands.
“No!” Margret looks genuinely alarmed. “I came alone, I swear.”
The sound of approaching footsteps grows louder, crunching through the snow. Then a familiar figure appears in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright outside light.
“Julia?” I call out, surprised. “I thought you were staying with the UTV.”
She steps into the mill, snowflakes clinging to her dark hair. “I went and grabbed some stuff from my car and saw someone else approaching down the road,” she explains breathlessly. “A blue pickup truck, and I thought I should warn you.”
Margret’s face pales. “We need to go. Now.”
“Why?” Caleb demands, his gun still at the ready. “Who’s coming?”
“Someone who won’t hesitate to kill for what Thomas Wolf left behind,” Margret says grimly. “My nephew, Danny. He doesn’t know about the ammunition box yet, but he knows I’ve been looking for the gold, and he’s been following me.”
Julia moves closer, her eyes wide. “Is he dangerous?”
“Very,” Margret confirms. “He’s already killed once for this treasure.”
A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Killed who?”
“My brother—his father.” Margret’s expression hardens. “It was ruled an accident, but I know better. Danny pushed himoff the ridge behind our property last summer when they were arguing about the treasure.”
The sound of a car door slamming outside spurs us into action.
“Back exit?” Caleb asks Margret.
She nods, pointing toward a narrow doorway half-hidden behind collapsed beams. “Through there. It leads to the creek path.”
“Go,” Caleb orders, motioning for Margret and Julia to move. “Lana, you too. I’ll be right behind you.”
I hesitate, not wanting to leave him alone. “Caleb—”
“I’m fine,” he insists. “Scout, go with Lana.”
The dog whines but obeys, staying close to my side as I reluctantly follow Margret and Julia toward the back exit. The doorway is partially blocked by debris, forcing us to squeeze through one at a time. Margret goes first, then Julia.
As I’m about to duck through, I hear heavy footsteps entering the main room of the mill.
“Aunt Margret?” a male voice calls out. “I know you’re in here. Your truck’s outside.”
I freeze, looking back at Caleb. He motions urgently for me to continue through the doorway, but I can’t leave him alone with his injured leg.
“Go,” he mouths silently.
Instead, I press myself against the wall beside the doorway, out of sight but still inside the mill. If Caleb thinks I’m going to abandon him to face an armed killer alone, he doesn’t know me very well.
