Chapter 5 #3
Nash snorted and then couldn’t help but smile. Truly, he didn’t keep much food in his place. He usually just had fast food or picked up something from the deli.
He texted back, What do you want?
It didn’t take her very long to fire off a huge list: Organic kale, quinoa, wild-caught salmon, free-range eggs, grass-fed beef, almond milk, cold-pressed olive oil, chia seeds, raw honey, organic blueberries, avocados, sweet potatoes, sprouted grain bread, cage-free chicken, and some kind of natural body wash with no parabens. And herbs—basil, cilantro, rosemary.
Nash stared at the text message, baffled by the list. What in the world were chia seeds? And who cared if the chicken had a cage or not? He texted her back: I’m leaving the office now. I’m going to pick you up, and we’ll go shopping together.
He wasn’t going to do this by himself. He didn’t even know what half of these things were.
She texted back. Sounds good.
Half an hour later, they were walking through the grocery store, which felt both normal and incredibly weird. They were at one of those stores in downtown Salt Lake that was all upscale. She was limping, but not too badly. Nash had told her that she didn’t have to come with him, but she’d insisted.
She put a scented candle in the cart.
“Do you really need that?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “Scented candles make me feel safe at night.”
Nash couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Okay, can we say diva?”
She shrugged. “Well, I just ran out of one of mine and you didn’t have any. Don’t stress it. I’ll pay for all my stuff.”
Nash grunted. He could imagine she didn’t make much money.
He didn’t know her financial situation, but it wasn’t in him to let a woman pay.
He’d been taught that men took care of women, and men paid.
Even though he knew she didn’t like it, his protective instincts were all spun up at the moment. Technically, she did need his help.
They took another hour walking around the grocery store picking up this or that. He ended up getting a bunch of produce and string cheese.
“I’ll cook,” she told him. She stockpiled twelve lemons into a bag.
Nash was confused. “How long do you plan on being at my house?”
She looked bothered. “I like lemon in my water. It pulls out the toxins.”
He grunted again. He hadn’t known what this older version of Amanda would be like, but technically, he should probably start thinking of her as Sadie. That was her witness protection name. It was fine.
As they approached the checkout lane, a young man with a store name tag glanced up and did a double take. “Professor Blair?” he said, smiling. “I didn’t know you shopped here.”
Nash watched Sadie’s face carefully. A flicker of tension crossed her features before she smiled at the young man. “Hi, Jason. How are you?”
“Good! Working on that paper for your summer class. Just need to finish the section on the territorial capital.”
“Sounds great. Email me if you have questions.”
“Will do. Oh, and Dr. Martinez was looking for you today. Something about the Porter Rockwell research?”
Nash saw Sadie stiffen slightly. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll check in with him.”
The young man nodded and moved on. Nash studied her face, noting her discomfort. She hadn’t mentioned teaching. And who was Dr. Martinez? More importantly, why did this random grocery store encounter make her so uncomfortable?
“You teach at the university?” Nash asked softly as they moved toward the checkout.
“Part time,” she mumbled. “History department. It’s just to supplement my income while I finish my thesis.”
“You didn’t mention that yesterday.”
She glanced around nervously. “There’s a lot I didn’t mention yesterday.”
At the end, she tried to pay, but he just swiped his card.
“Nash, I didn’t want you to pay. What is your Venmo?”
Nash put up a hand. “If you Venmo me, I’ll hate you. So don’t do that.”
She snorted out a laugh. “You’ll hate me? I mean, you don’t hate me for never getting in contact with you or for trying to not let you in my house or running away from you yesterday, but you’re going to hate me for paying you back for groceries?”
Nash couldn’t help but roll his eyes and grin as he carried the bags to the car. “Yep.”
Once in the car, he couldn’t help noticing how Sadie kept checking the rearview mirror. “Are you looking for something?” he asked.
She jumped slightly. “What? No. Just … habit.”
Nash had spent enough time around Chance to recognize the vigilance of someone who felt they were being watched. Rather than push her on it, he decided to keep his own eyes open for anyone who might be following them.
They drove back to his place.
She was quiet now, not as talkative as she’d been before the encounter with her student. Nash decided not to push it until they were back at his place.
“So how long have you lived in Salt Lake?” she asked.
“A year and a half. I got done with law school and came here. It’s a nice place.”
She smiled, though it seemed forced. “Isn’t it crazy that we both ended up here in Utah?”
“It is crazy.”
She pointed at him. “And that we ended up in Provo Canyon at the same time.”
Nash nodded. “Another curiosity.”
They arrived back at his place, which was an older home in a nice area of the Avenues.
Ever since he’d bought it, he’d been working on it in his off hours, which weren’t many.
He put the car in park outside the garage.
It would be easier to get the groceries in the house through the front door, because he had so much stuff shoved into the garage.
The Avenues neighborhood was one of the oldest in Salt Lake City, with tree-lined streets and historic homes.
Nash’s place was a craftsman-style bungalow built in the early 1900s, with a deep front porch and classic architectural details.
Inside, he’d been gradually restoring the original woodwork and updating the kitchen and bathrooms.
He cut the engine, and they carried the groceries inside.
Sadie stood in his kitchen, watching as he put things away. She seemed upset, arms folded across her chest, eyes darting to the windows occasionally.
“What’s up?”
“Do you think someone is watching me?” she asked abruptly.
Nash paused, a box of organic pasta in his hand. “Why do you ask that?”
“That student. In the store.” She rubbed her arms as if cold. “It just made me realize how … exposed I am. How many people know me as Sadie Blair.”
Nash set down the pasta and turned to face her. “I don’t know, but I need to tell you something else because I want to be transparent with you.”
“Okay.”
“Brooks found some information about Bill Harris.”
Her eyes widened. “What kind of information?”
“He had some suspicious bank deposits before his death. From an offshore account. And he met with someone connected to an organized crime family. They specialize in art theft and smuggling antiquities.”
“Gold smuggling,” she whispered.
“Possibly.”
Sadie sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “Bill never said anything about … I mean, he seemed completely above board. A respected professor. I can’t imagine him involved with criminals.”
“Maybe he didn’t know who he was dealing with,” Nash suggested. “Or maybe he played you.”
They fell silent, both lost in thought.
Nash continued unpacking groceries, giving her space to process. “Also, it appears that Bill Harris was a Navy SEAL with my father and the Stone's father.”
“What?” She looked completely confused.
“I told you about that letter between them.”
“Right.”
“Well, we don’t know anything except that he served with them.”
“Wow,” she said, reeling back. “I … he never mentioned that. I mean, we always just discussed the research. We never really shared personal things.”
Silence fell between them again.
“What if …” Sadie began, then hesitated. “What if Bill found something? Something valuable enough that these people would kill for it?”
“Like what?” Nash prompted.
“I don’t know. We were researching locations, not artifacts. But maybe he made a discovery he didn’t share with me.”
Nash considered this. “Brooks mentioned a guy named Dominic Russo. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Sadie shook her head. “No. Bill never mentioned anyone by that name.”
“What about your department head? This Dr. Martinez your student mentioned?”
“He’s the chair of Utah History at the University. He’s been supportive of my research, but lately he’s been … I don’t know, more interested than usual. Asking for regular updates.” She frowned. “I just assumed it was because I’m nearing completion of my thesis.”
Nash made a mental note to have Brooks look into Martinez. If Bill Harris had been compromised, anyone connected to the research could be suspect.
Silence fell over them. Nash was lost in his thoughts about the connections between Bill Harris, the Ferrantes, and the gold. When he looked up, he found Sadie studying him intently.
“What?” he asked, feeling inspected by her gaze.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” Sadie said suddenly. “With you.” She looked up at him, her green eyes luminous. “I always wondered about you.”
Nash felt his heart rate accelerate, but he kept his expression neutral. Inside, he was hanging on every word. “Really?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
She nodded. “I always thought you were so handsome. And …” She trailed off.
“What?” Nash prompted.
She looked embarrassed. “Well, you did turn out handsome.”
Nash didn’t know what to say. He felt suddenly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck and rearranging items in the refrigerator that didn’t need rearranging.
Part of him wanted to tell her that he’d thought about her too, wondered what had happened to her, imagined what she might look like now. But the words wouldn’t come.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from Porter. He pulled it out and read the message, his eyebrows rising.
We’ve been researching stories about gold around Salt Lake. Have you visited Mount Olympus yet?
“What is it?” Sadie asked.
Nash looked up from his phone. “My brother Porter is asking if I’ve checked out Mount Olympus yet. They’ve been researching gold stories around Salt Lake.”
“Mount Olympus?” Sadie sat forward, suddenly animated. “That’s one of the primary locations I’ve been researching.”
“What’s the connection to Porter Rockwell?” Nash asked, intrigued by her reaction.
“There are several caves on the eastern face that local legends say were used by early Mormon settlers as hiding places,” she explained, eyes bright with excitement.
“Some stories specifically mention Rockwell using one particular cave system during his time as Brigham Young’s bodyguard.
The caves were perfect for hiding things—or people. ”
“And you think gold might be hidden there?”
“It’s possible.” She paused. “I’ve been trying to get permission to explore those caves, but most of the eastern face is privately owned.”
“By whom?” Nash asked.
“A corporate trust called the Olympus Foundation. They own several thousand acres and have the whole area posted with ‘No Trespassing’ signs. They’re extremely protective of the property—almost suspiciously so.”
Nash’s legal mind immediately flagged this as interesting. “How long has this foundation owned the land?”
“That’s the thing—I can’t find much information about them. The property records I accessed only go back to the 1950s, and the foundation already owned it then.” She shook her head. “There’s very little public information about the foundation itself. No website, no listed board members, nothing.”
The coincidences were piling up too high to ignore.
Nash looked at her, feeling the pieces starting to come together. “I think we need to go to Mount Olympus,” he said.
Sadie’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I think you’re right. Let me make some calls to see if I can get us access. But, would you mind if we prayed first?”
Nash was taken aback. “Uh, sure.”
“If you mind we don’t have to, it’s just … well, the last few years I’ve tried to do things with God’s help and … I think we need his help now.”
Nash’s heart raced. This woman was more amazing then he thought. “I like it. Would you mind saying it?”
She bowed her head. “Dear Lord, thank you for this day. Thank you for bringing Nash back into my life. Father, please help us figure this out and help us be safe. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”
“Amen,” he said, feeling warm chills. “Thank you.”