Chapter 16
Rain pounded against the windows of the Park City rental house, matching Amy’s somber mood perfectly. She spread Bill’s notes across the massive dining table, her fingers tracing his familiar handwriting one last time.
There was no Porter Rockwell gold.
The truth hit her like a physical blow, leaving a hollow feeling in her chest. For months, she’d been so certain. So hopeful. She’d poured everything into researching Porter Rockwell, convinced he’d hidden a treasure that would connect to her father’s death.
But it had all been a wild goose chase.
“Find anything new?”
She looked up to see Nash approaching, two steaming mugs in hand. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he’d changed into fresh clothes that somehow made him look casual and put together at the same time.
“Just confirmation of what we already know,” she sighed, accepting the coffee gratefully. “It was all for nothing.”
Nash took the seat beside her, his knee brushing against hers. “Hey, it wasn’t for nothing. It led us to Truman’s map, to the connection with Bird Island. That’s something.”
“I know.” Amy couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from her voice. “It’s just … I wanted it to be real. For Bill’s sake.”
Nash reached out, covering her hand with his. The simple touch sent warmth spiraling through her.
“I think I just wanted to find gold,” she admitted softly. “Any gold. As if finding treasure would somehow make sense of everything that happened to me—my father’s death, witness protection, eight years of living someone else’s life.”
“That’s understandable.”
“To South Carolina.” Amy nodded. “Back to where the Stone family’s search began.”
“Back to the beginning,” Nash agreed.
The sliding door opened with a whoosh, letting in a gust of cool mountain air as Trey entered, followed by Brooks, Porter, and Marshall. “Flights are arranged,” Brooks announced. “Two private planes leaving in three hours. Stones first, then Crosses.”
“What about the damage to this house?” Nash asked, glancing toward the boarded-up area where the intruder had broken in.
Trey pulled out his phone. “Already handled. Got a contractor coming to make repairs.”
“And Dr. Martinez?” Amy asked.
“In protective custody,” Brooks confirmed. “Him and his brother both. Plus his wife and family. They’re more afraid of the Ferrantes than federal charges.”
Blaze walked inside and looked up from his phone. “I’ve been going over those photos from the mine. The way that blast was set—it wasn’t amateur work. Whoever rigged it knew exactly what they were doing.”
“Professionals,” Porter agreed, leaning against the table. His gaze fell on Amy’s notes. “So it’s settled? No more chasing Porter Rockwell’s ghost?”
Amy nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “There never was any Rockwell gold—just the conquistador treasure, which somehow got linked to his name through legends over the years.”
“And now we follow the only real lead we have,” Marshall said. “Bird Island. The palm leaf symbol combined with the broken arrow.”
“What exactly is Bird Island?” Amy asked, trying to focus on the conversation at hand rather than Nash’s call. “I’ve read a little about the Stone family’s gold hunt, but not many details.”
Trey spread a nautical chart across the table. “Small island off the coast of South Carolina. Not far from South Port, where my family lives.”
“It’s where we found the first piece of gold,” Marshall added. “The one with the palm leaf inscription. Our parents left clues there.”
Amy leaned forward, studying the chart with interest. The island wasn’t large—maybe a mile across at its widest point.
“We searched it thoroughly,” Trey continued, “but only found that single piece of gold. The island’s mostly limestone, full of caves. Some extend underwater.”
“You think there might be underwater passages you haven’t fully explored?” Amy asked, intrigue pushing aside her disappointment.
Trey nodded, his finger tracing the eastern shoreline. “We explored some, but the network is massive. With this new combined symbol—the broken arrow and palm leaf together—we think there could be hidden passages or chambers we missed.”
“Better get to exploring,” Nash said.
“We need to move. Now,” Marshall reiterated.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, casual planning morphing into urgent action.
“We’ll need advanced diving gear,” Marshall said, turning back to the map. “Underwater lights, breathing apparatus, communication systems.”
“Already arranged,” Brooks confirmed. “Trent’s handling that end.”
“What about sonar?” Blaze asked. “If we’re looking at deeper underwater structures, we should map them thoroughly before going in.”
“Got that covered,” Marshall replied. “Latest tech, military grade.”
“And if we need to blast our way in?” Porter asked, always practical, always focused on action rather than theory.
Trent walked into the room. “Let’s just say I’ve got some expertise in that area.”
Amy watched the men circle the table, pointing at the map, discussing equipment needs, debating access points.
A wave of apprehension washed over her. She’d never left Utah since entering witness protection.
South Carolina might as well be another planet—one where she’d have no established escape routes, no safe houses, no familiarity with the terrain.
Nash seemed to sense her sudden unease. He moved to her side, his hand finding the small of her back. “Having second thoughts?” he asked softly, for her ears only.
Amy met his eyes. “I’ve never been this far from … from my safe zone. Not in eight years.”
Nash’s expression softened. “That’s a big step.”
“It’s terrifying,” she admitted. “But also necessary. I’m tired of living in fear, tired of waiting for answers that might never come if I don’t go after them.”
“You’re not alone this time,” Nash reminded her, his voice low and intense. “I’ll be right beside you, every step of the way.”
His words gave her courage, steadying the tremor that had started in her hands. With Nash at her side, she could face whatever waited for them in South Carolina.
“Do you think the Ferrantes know about Bird Island?” she asked the group, her voice stronger now. “With Dr. Martinez in custody, they might not have connected the dots yet.”
Brooks looked thoughtful. “It’s hard to say. They knew about the Porter Rockwell angle, but there’s no evidence they’ve linked it to Bird Island yet. We’re monitoring their associates on the East Coast, but so far, nothing around South Port.”
“This could be our advantage,” Trey said. “If they’re focused on Utah while we move to South Carolina, we could get ahead of them for once.”
“We leave soon,” Brooks decided. “Everyone get packed and ready. And keep your phones in airplane mode until we’re in the air—no digital trail.”
A timer chimed from the kitchen, followed by Sadie’s voice announcing lunch. The men gathered up their maps and notes, leaving Amy and Nash momentarily alone.
“Are you okay with all this?” Nash asked quietly. “It’s happening fast, and I know leaving Utah is a big deal for you.”
Amy tucked Bill’s notes into her folder. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “But I’m more scared of never finding the truth, of letting the Ferrantes win again.”
Nash’s eyes searched hers. “You’re braver than you think.”