They passed carloads of casino patrons heading in both directions. Some drivers returning to Portland seemed buzzed and occasionally they swayed over the yellow median before making a sudden correction. Robert gave them a wide berth wherever he could.
“Are you going to finally tell me what this is about?” Robert asked.
Marsh waited until the song was over before considering Robert’s question.
“Come on Robert. It can’t be any real mystery to you. You’ve known for a long time that something big was going to happen some day. Remember the ghost you saw back when you were a kid? How you wondered if it had all been a dream? The ghost is fucking real amigo. In fact I talk to him almost every day.”
Robert felt cold sweat trickle down his back. “Whose ghost is it?”
“Jared Horn. Your great grandfather.”
“So why does he talk to you?”
Marsh stuck the nub of a cigar in his mouth and chewed pensively.
“I’d inherited Horn’s house from my aunt. I got drunk one night and was looking around the place when I fell through a trap door. Broke my back, I did. Lay there for days in a cellar waiting for help to come. Then Horn’s ghost made his presence known. At the time I thought I was hallucinating from the pain but after I was released from the hospital I could still hear his voice in my head.”
“So you’re blaming a ghost’s voice in your head for all this?”
“It’s the truth, Crain. I’ve been following orders.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“What’s in it for me? Horn’s promised a fortune in gold if I can deliver you to the place he wants you to be.”
“Do you know what he’s planning to do when we get there?”
Marsh spat a piece of the cigar onto the floor. “Hell if I know. He’s a goddamn ghost.”
****
Will loaded some supplies into the SUV and siphoned off the remaining gas from his disabled pickup. They found a cell phone on the floor and Peggy left a message at the sheriff’s department. She couldn’t tell if the snide dispatcher believed her abbreviated description of events. She could only trust that the woman would let the sheriff know as soon as she heard back from him.
She turned off the phone and climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. Connor and Nugget had already made themselves at home in the backseat. Will still looked unhappy about taking anyone with him but she didn’t care. They were going to do this thing together.
“Do you have an idea where Marsh is taking him?” Peggy asked.
Will looked at her with hooded eyes. “I only saw the map once. I think they’re headed for the glacier up near Starvation Point.”
“Isn’t that the place his grandfather used to warn him about?”
“That’s the one.”
“Robert said he could never get to the bottom that story. The old man would only tell him it was an evil place and that he should stay away from it.”
Will couldn’t help but grin. “I believe it. I stayed the night a few times up at his cabin when Bobby and I were kids. He scared the crap out of me with his crazy stories. He was quite a character. Too bad you never got to meet him...”
When they’d driven several miles clear of bone dry ranches and barbed wire fences, they passed through dark stands of ponderosa pine until the road crested a hillside and the land opened up onto a long stretch of rock and sage. Will pulled over to study his map and they all climbed out to see the view.
Looming before them was the ominous blue cutout of Mt. Hood rimmed by setting sunlight. They smelled smoke and when they turned around they saw forest fires burning on a distant plateau while a harvest moon waited somewhere offstage for the first sign of night.
Peggy turned back and stared at the mountain.
We’re going to find you Robert. I know we will...
CHAPTER 55
Deep inside the glacier Marco and the crew used torches to extract the coins while Carol tended a fire in the pit and kept watch for potential cave-ins. She couldn’t stop herself from becoming distracted by the rising mound of treasure. How much money in gold had they taken so far? A million? More than that? The size of the frozen robber’s horde was staggering…
Her three graduate students worked harder than they had all summer and Marco was pleased with how fast things were going. He glanced at his watch and smiled, comforted by the fact that they would be able to finish up well before sunrise. Unless they encountered some early climbers on their way to the summit, they’d have plenty of time to return to base camp before anyone took notice of their haul.
So far they’d removed about two thirds of the treasure, including the corpse of the man who’d taken it down into the mountain with him nearly a hundred years earlier. Marco had them set the body down as far from the fire as they could to avoid melting. He didn’t enjoy having the corpse watching them so he covered its face with a piece of groundsheet. The expression on the dead man’s face had given him the creeps.
It wasn’t the first time Marco had been involved in taking treasure from the hands of the dead. There’d been many others over the years that he’d done the same to, millionaires whose planes disappeared into the mountains and were never found or men who’d decided to take up mountain climbing as a hobby and then vanished without a trace. Marco loved the challenge of cracking a mystery, especially if there was money to be had. He’d scour a hundred different newspapers and websites to find his next lead, and he had a knack for breaking open long-closed cases.
This opportunity had dropped into his lap unexpectedly. On a flight to Peru to follow up on some leads with a corrupt government official regarding a missing drug cartel’s plane he’d met a passenger from Portland. Several cocktails later his friendly chat with the man turned to the subject of treasure hunting and maps. And although he never saw him again he did receive a fax copy of a map the American claimed to have found in some old family heirloom—a mysterious carved wooden box that no one in his family recalled the significance of. Marco wrote the man and told him he’d get back to him if he ever gleaned something useful from it. After studying it for a few days he put it away when another prospect stole his attention.
Years later, while reading a book on famous bank robbers of the West, Marco had come upon a story describing Charlie Maynard and his violent history. The man’s name had jogged his memory, and when he dug the copy of the map from his files he was finally able to piece it together.
Plagued by visa problems, Marco knew he wouldn’t have enough time to properly search the mountain. It wasn’t until he searched the websites of universities who had summer mountain research programs that he came up with an idea. Carol had played perfectly into his plan…
CHAPTER 56
Marsh bitched at him for not driving fast enough. He told Robert to turn off the highway onto an old service road. Robert didn’t know where he was at first, but a few miles later he began to recognize certain boulders next to the road and the thick stands of blue fir. It was the same short cut his grandfather sometimes used when he went up for Christmas trees. The road also worked as a quick route to the timberline, where the trail they sometimes took to the glacier dipped down to a campground often used by climbers as a base camp.
Robert hoped Will would recognize where to turn off before recalling how his friend used to come up here and bow hunt in the fall.
He’ll remember how to get here. If he’s still alive…
When they’d gone several miles up the dusty road, Marsh ordered Robert to pull up between some trees heavily bearded with bright green-yellow lichen before tying his wrists together with a piece of rope. They got out of the truck and walked. Bats zipped past their heads catching moths and an owl hooted from a canyon below them.