Chapter 8 #2
Breathless, they collapsed onto the ground, watching as a steady stream of bats poured from the cave mouth, spiraling up into the blue sky before dispersing.
For a moment, they just sat there, hearts racing, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. Nash’s hair was disheveled, his expression stunned.
A giggle escaped Amy’s lips before she could stop it.
Nash looked at her in surprise; then his mouth quirked up at the corner. “Did you just giggle?”
“No,” she lied, before promptly dissolving into full-blown laughter.
Nash joined her, his deep laugh warming her more than the spring sunshine. “Oh my gosh, I thought it was someone trying to kill us,” he admitted between chuckles.
“Me too,” Amy confided, wiping tears from her eyes. “I was convinced it was the Ferrantes or—” She broke off, overcome with another round of laughter.
They sat there laughing like children, the release of tension making everything funnier than it should have been. Amy couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed like this—freely, without reservation or fear.
“What do we have here?” The unfamiliar voice cut through their laughter like a knife.
Amy and Nash jerked around to find a figure standing a few yards away, watching them with obvious curiosity.
“Dr. Martinez,” Amy gasped, scrambling to her feet with Nash’s help.
Her department chair stood there in full hiking gear—expensive moisture-wicking pants, a North Face jacket, and a hat that looked like it had never seen actual trail dust. He carried a professional-grade walking stick and had a small backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Professor Blair,” he replied, his gaze shifting between her and Nash with undisguised suspicion. “I didn’t expect to find anyone here.”
Amy brushed dirt from her jeans, suddenly conscious of how disheveled she must look. “What are you doing here?”
Dr. Martinez raised an eyebrow. “Well, I got your messages asking about this place. I tried to call you back about half an hour ago. When you didn’t answer, and since it’s Saturday, I thought I would do some investigating myself.
” He gestured to the mountain around them.
“This is connected to your thesis work, isn’t it? ” He turned to Nash. “Who is this?”
Amy wasn’t sure if she could trust him. The timing of his appearance seemed too convenient, too coincidental. “Yes, this is connected,” she said carefully. “Um, sorry. This is Nash Cross. He’s … helping me with my research.”
Nash stepped forward, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Dr. Martinez hesitated before shaking it, his grip visibly brief. “Nice to meet you. What do you do, Mr. Cross?”
“I’m an attorney,” Nash replied, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Dr. Martinez looked skeptical, glancing between them. “An attorney? Why would a historian need an attorney for field research?”
Amy’s heart raced as she scrambled for an explanation. “We’re dating,” she blurted out, moving closer to Nash. “He wanted to see what I do on weekends.”
Nash slipped his arm around her waist with such natural ease that even Amy almost believed their cover story. “Can’t let her have all the fun,” he added with a casual shrug.
Dr. Martinez’s expression shifted subtly, his eyes lingering on Nash. “I see,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t quite believe them.
An awkward silence fell over the three of them. Dr. Martinez’s gaze kept drifting to the cave entrance, his expression calculating.
“We were just exploring some potential historical sites,” Amy said, trying to sound casual. “There are legends about Porter Rockwell using these caves.”
“And apparently a lot of bats,” Nash added dryly.
Dr. Martinez didn’t smile. “Find anything interesting?”
Before Amy could decide how to answer, Nash spoke. “Just some graffiti and a lot of dirt. These old caves have been picked clean by hikers over the years.”
Amy felt a rush of gratitude for Nash’s quick thinking. He hadn’t mentioned the broken arrow symbol.
“Hmm,” Dr. Martinez hummed noncommittally. “Well, I won’t keep you from your … research.” The way he emphasized the last word made it clear he suspected there was more to their presence than academic interest.
“Actually, we were just heading back down,” Nash said. “Sadie’s ankle is bothering her.”
Dr. Martinez’s eyes dropped to her taped ankle, then back to her face. “Hiking injury?”
“Something like that,” Amy replied vaguely.
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Dr. Martinez said, stepping aside to let them pass. “Perhaps we can discuss your findings at our next department meeting, Professor Blair?”
“Of course,” Amy agreed, though the thought made her uneasy.
“I’m going to just stay and check things out.”
Amy’s heart raced.
Nash placed a supportive hand at the small of her back as they started down the trail. “Suit yourself.”
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Cross,” he called after them.
“You too,” Nash called back, but he kept walking.
As they made their way carefully down the steep path, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Dr. Martinez’s appearance wasn’t a coincidence—and that he knew exactly what they were searching for.
Nash seemed to sense her unease, keeping his voice low as they descended. “Did you notice how he knew exactly where to find us? How did he know which trail to take?”
Amy nodded grimly. “And he’s never hiked a day in his life. All that gear is brand new.”
They glanced back once to find Dr. Martinez still watching them, silhouetted against the sky, his posture unnaturally still.
“I don’t trust him,” Nash murmured.
“Neither do I,” Amy admitted.
As they continued down the mountain, Amy’s mind raced with possibilities. If Dr. Martinez was connected to the Ferrantes, their search for the gold had just become infinitely more dangerous—and more urgent. They needed to find it before he did.
And if he wasn’t connected to the Ferrantes? Then they had another player in this dangerous game, one whose motivations remained a mystery.
Either way, Amy knew one thing for certain: the broken arrow in that cave was just the beginning. Somewhere on this mountain were the answers to questions that had haunted her for eight years.