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Sam clicked his seat belt and clutched Josie's new, Nebraska-winter-worthy coat in his lap. No doubt she'd be freezing once they found her.
The snowfall had gained intensity in the ten minutes he and Hank had been on the road. Wind pushed against the cruiser and swirled the quarter-inch of snow covering the asphalt. McPherson's Bluff towered over the prairie, an optical illusion making is seem just around the bend when in reality it was a good fifteen miles away.
“So Chris tells me Josie is a waitress in Vegas.”
“Yes. She's a painter too.”
“Any good?”
Guilt sucker-punched him in the kidneys. “I don't know, I haven't seen any of her paintings.” He'd spent so much time questioning her motives or trying to get into her pants, he hadn't bothered to find out more about the one thing that really mattered to her.
You're a real asshole, Layton.
“So should we try the east or west entrance to the bluff?”
“Neither, we have to start at the beginning. They took both maps. I marked the regional map with the possible beginnings. They have to know the starting point is either Rebecca's first homestead or the McNerny boarding house.”
Hank gave him a hearty dose of side eye. “Dial that back, professor, and talk to me like I don't live this crap every day.”
“Sorry. Snips is after Rebecca's Bounty. That's why my office was trashed this week. He told Josie that if she finds the treasure for him, he'll forget he wants to turn her brother over to some mob boss.”
Hank's mouth gaped open, but he kept his eyes on the ever-worsening road. When he didn't say anything, Sam shrugged and continued.
“Josie was given Rebecca's diary. Inside the back cover was a map to the treasure. The key to finding it is knowing the correct place to start, homestead or boarding house.”
“So which is it?” Hank rolled to a stop at a T in the road.
Go left to the west side of the bluff and Rebecca's first homestead. Go right to the east side of the bluff and the McNerny boarding house. He had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right, if he wa
s correct about Snips’ determination to get the treasure. With Josie's life on the line, he had to be.
“Turn left.” The sky had turned white and visibility had gone from so-so to downright concerning. They were the only vehicle on the two-lane highway. “Thanks for doing this, Hank.”
“Better than just taking off, which you would have done about ten minutes after I'd left you alone.”
“True.”
“At least this way if we get stranded in the middle of a snowstorm, Mom won't kill me for letting you go off on your own.”
“You'd think we were still kids the way she mother-bears us.”
“Yeah, I think we're forever twelve to her.”
Sam couldn't help but wince at the mention of being twelve, especially with McPherson's Bluff taking up a big portion of the real estate in front of the windshield.
Ever observant, Hank didn't miss a thing. “Shit, Sam. I'm sorry.”
“I think it's time we moved beyond that—way past time when I need to do that.”
He rubbed the fleece lining of Josie's electric-blue coat between his thumb and finger. They'd find her and then he'd find the words to tell her everything. He couldn't promise forever, but he sure could do a damn sight better about the here and the now.
Despite the weather conditions, Hank made good time, turning onto Rural Route Fourteen without having to sacrifice much in terms of speed for the dirt road. The cruiser's shocks absorbed most of the beating from the rough surface. Three miles in and they were almost to the trees Rebecca had used as a windbreak for her new home.
There wasn't much left of Rebecca's original homestead, but five years ago the Dry Creek Historical Society had started to build a replica of the one-room farmhouse. They'd gotten about halfway through the building process when funds ran out, the economy tanked and donations dried up. The abandoned building stood alone just off the road.
He searched the road ahead for tire tracks, but the fresh layer of snow, now at least a half-inch thick, covered any sign of previous traffic.
“Pull over by the trees.”
