“I don’t think Gage has ever really gotten over it. Will you tell me what happened?”
“It is his story to tell.”
“If you tell me, I might be able to help him.”
Mateo fell silent. Abby waited, sure he wouldn’t say more.
“It happened in Honduras. Gage was escorting a pair of archeologists to newly discovered ruins near Pacavita. Cassandra’s father worked for an American company in San Salvador. That is where they met. Cassandra was beautiful and smart. She was in love with him.”
“Gage said she loved him, but he wasn’t in love with her.”
“I think that made it worse for him. He enjoyed her in bed, so when she begged to go with him, he agreed. It was not supposed to be a difficult trip.”
“What went wrong?”
“Cassandra could not handle the jungle. She was miserable, and she let everyone know. We had only been gone a few days when the accident happened. We were crossing a rope bridge over a gorge. Gage went first to make sure it was safe. Two men went next with no problem. I waited with Cassandra. When it was her turn, Gage encouraged her to go slow and not look down.”
“What happened?”
“Halfway across, she panicked. One of her feet slipped off the rope, then she fell partway through. For several seconds she just hung there, but instead of waiting for Gage to reach her, to help her back to her feet, something went wrong. Gage nearly died himself trying to save her, but it was too late. She plunged to her death at the bottom of the gorge.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Gage brought her body home. The expedition failed, and Gage never went back.”
Abby’s eyes burned. Her heart ached for the woman who had died so young. And for Gage. “Thank you for telling me, Mateo.”
“You are not like Cassandra. Gage knows this. I believe he cares for you, but it may not be enough.”
Abby said nothing. She could only imagine the guilt and pain Gage had suffered. He wouldn’t risk that kind of pain again.
She told herself it didn’t matter, that her heart wasn’t involved, and she would make certain it never would be.
“You must sleep,” Mateo said, rising to his feet. “Tomorrow you hunt your abuelo’s gold.”
“Yes . . .” Abby stood up from the rock. “Tomorrow we search for it. Good night, Mateo, and thank you.”
He made a faint movement of his head. “Good night, Abby.” She climbed back into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes, but her mind raced with thoughts of Gage and the woman who had loved him.
It was nearly dawn when she finally fell asleep. The echo of a woman’s cries as she plunged to her death crept into her dreams.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SHE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GROGGY AS SHE ROLLED OUT OF BED AFTER a mostly sleepless night. Instead, Abby felt invigorated, excited clear to her bones.
Kyle made coffee, then went to tend the mule while Abby took photos and video of the camp. They powered up on protein bars, drank boiled water for hydration, then refilled their bottles. Kyle and Mateo both headed off to stand watch on different sides of the camp as she and Gage searched. Mateo would be scouting their back trail, looking for any sign of the men, but Gage was clearly worried.
“Keep your eyes open,” he’d said to them. “Watch for sunlight reflections, anything that might signal their location.” He glanced at the peaks and ridges that could provide a hiding place. “If they’re out there, they’ll be somewhere above us. Keep your weapons handy.”
Kyle’s hand went to the Glock holstered at his waist. Mateo was armed only with a knife, but Abby figured he knew how to use it a dozen different ways, including self-defense.
Gage headed for a flat rock at the edge of their campsite and spread open the various maps they had brought with them. Abby took out King’s notes and joined him.
They reviewed the first few paragraphs. Gage paused and looked around.
“This is the harshest country we’ve encountered so far.” His gaze ran over the barren landscape, just boulders and cactus and dirt. “On the surface, there isn’t much to distinguish this place from a hundred others. Read the next passage.”
Abby looked back at King’s notes. “‘Find the low stone wall at the base of the arroyo. If you study it closely, you’ll see it’s not part of the natural landscape. It’s man-made.’ ”
It took thirty minutes of intense searching to locate a stone wall that was only a foot high and so worn it simply looked like a pile of rocks. Abby’s excitement swelled the moment she recognized it as the place in King’s notes. Though she had read the notes a dozen times, it was different now that they were actually there.
“I found it!” she called out to Gage, who turned and strode along the narrow path at the base of the arroyo until he reached her side.
“There!” She pointed. “That’s the wall.”
Gage crouched next to the pile of rocks, surveying the fit of the stones, which was too perfect to be an accident of nature. “Once you see the pattern, you can tell this was part of a larger structure.”
Abby looked down at King’s notes. “‘Looking east from the stone wall, dig down two feet to an old wooden ammunition box. Inside the box is what you’ll need to find the treasure.’ ”
“I’ll get the shovel,” Gage said and returned a few minutes later with the handle gripped in his hand. Placing a big boot on the head of the blade, he drove the shovel into the ground and started digging.
Abby’s heart raced faster with each load of dirt he scooped out and tossed aside. Her mouth felt dry but her palms were damp.
“Please . . .” she whispered softly.
The low stone wall was about six feet long. The first hole yielded nothing. Gage moved the blade, dug down a couple of feet, and found nothing. With the ground so dry and hard, it wasn’t easy work. A third dry hole. Gage moved the shovel and started digging again.
Abby’s tension built. Maybe there was another group of stones that formed a wall. Maybe she should re-read the notes, check for something she’d missed.
She looked at Gage, who had stripped off his shirt. A fine sheen of perspiration covered his heavily muscled body. Even with her mind fixed on the treasure, desire slipped through her.
It wasn’t fair. Not when she had so little effect on his iron control.
The shovel dug in, and Abby’s thoughts returned to the treasure. With a soft thunk, the blade hit something solid. Gage dropped to his knees, and Abby dropped down beside him. As they scooped out the dry, powdery earth, she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a piece of wood.
They scooped out more dirt, and the top of an old wooden box appeared.
Gage dug around it, then reached down to lift it out. His muscles strained. The box was heavy. Gage took a more solid grip on the box, hefted it out of the hole, and set it on the ground. In faded red letters, SHUR SHOT REMINGTON ARMS appeared on the side of the dovetailed box.
“Looks like this is it,” Gage said. “You ready?”
She swallowed and nodded, her long braid moving against her back. “I’m ready.”
Gage slid out his big knife and pried open the lid, set it aside. The box was filled with sand.
Gage growled something she couldn’t quite hear, but Abby was already digging through the sand, scooping handfuls out of the box.