Ghost Canyon (The John Decker Supernatural Thriller Series Book 7) Anthony Strong (popular romance novels .TXT) 📖

“That doesn’t make sense.” Wagner unlocked the truck with the key fob remote and slid behind the wheel. “You sure you’re feeling all right, Harlan?”

“I’m feeling fine. Just start the damned engine and get us out there. I’ll tell you on the way.”

“Take it easy, I was just asking.” Wagner started the truck and steered through the parking garage to the exit. When he reached the road, he turned right toward East Flamingo Road. “You got an address for this place?”

“It’s out on Ninety-Five.”

“Fine, put the address in the GPS.” Wagner turned left on Flamingo, heading away from the Strip toward the interstate.

Harlan read the address from his phone and entered it into the navigation system, then sat back. “It will take about forty minutes to get there.”

“Great, now maybe you can tell me why we’re rushing out there in such a hurry.”

“Because my great-great-grandfather, Travis Biggs, used to own a share of that mine. He went missing a few years after the mine dried up, but he’d already found a good amount of gold by then, which got passed down to his illegitimate son, sired with a town prostitute.”

“I know all this, Harlan. Your grandfather built the casino using what remained of the modest wealth Travis Biggs accumulated as a prospector. I don’t see what that has to do with paying off Rossi.”

“It has everything to do with it,” Harlan said. “It wasn’t just the money that was passed down through the generations. Travis Biggs kept a journal. The Ghost Canyon Mine was an obsession. He claimed there was a huge seam of gold that no one else knew about.”

“I still don’t see how that helps us.” Wagner steered the truck onto the interstate and joined the flow of traffic. “Even if there was gold in that mine, it’s probably long gone.”

“That’s just it, Travis wrote in his journal that he had cursed the mine using the bones of a disgraced Paiute warrior, who’s undead spirit protected the seam from other prospectors until he could extract the precious metals. When the mines stopped producing, the town’s population left for richer pickings, like the Comstock Lode. Not Travis. He stayed behind, convinced he could still get gold out of the Ghost Canyon Mine. But he never did because he couldn’t remove the curse.”

“Harlan, listen to yourself. I know you’re worried about this Oscar Rossi business, but you sound crazy. This is a fool’s errand.”

“I get it. It sounds nuts. I thought the journal was nothing more than a liquor induced fantasy. A tall tale written by a crazy old man. But it’s not. The curse is real. Something supernatural killed those three people—”

“Harlan, come on—”

“And if the curse is real, then so is the gold.” Harlan folded his arms and watched the desert landscape slip by.

“Even if it is, how are you going to get it?” Wagner asked. “You said it yourself, there’s a curse on the mine.”

“We don’t have to get the gold out. All I need is enough gold in hand to convince Oscar Rossi that the seam is real. Then I can negotiate. He rips up the note on my casino, and I’ll tell him where he can get enough gold to make us both rich. And the best of it is, he’ll be the one who has to deal with any curse.”

“And the fact that you don’t own the mine?”

“I might not have the money to pay Oscar Rossi almost four hundred grand in interest payments, but I’m not completely broke. I’m sure I can pull enough cash together to make the current owners an offer. After what happened, I can’t imagine they want to keep it.”

“So that’s what we’re doing?” Wagner asked. “Buying that mine?”

“Not until I see the gold for myself. First things first, I want to look around up there and get the lay of the land. Check out the mine entrance. Then we’ll come back when no one’s around and actually go in, find the seam, and make sure the gold is really there. Maybe even snag a sample or two.”

“And then?”

“Then we get ahold of that mine, cut a deal with Rossi, and save the casino.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

The bright Nevada sunshine streamed in through Decker’s window. It was a little after eight in the morning and he could hear hammering and sawing coming from further down the corridor. He rose and got dressed, then headed downstairs and made his way to the kitchen.

When he entered, Decker found the Feds, Barnes and Fowler, sitting at the table, eating bacon and eggs. A shaggy yellow-haired dog sprawled at their feet, looking up hopefully.

Robyn was fussing over the stove. She turned at Decker’s arrival and smiled. “Sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” Decker took a seat. The dog dragged itself up and padded over to him, sniffing curiously.

“That’s Tieg,” Robyn said. “He’s the official food taster.”

“He’s going to have to wait awhile to taste mine,” Decker replied. “I’m famished.”

“Good.” Robyn turned with a plate of food and placed it in front of him. “Eat up.”

“Thanks,” Decker said. He glanced around the table. “Did anyone else hear gunshots last night?”

Fowler shook his head. “I slept like a log.”

“Me too,” Barnes said. “Although I did wake up around two, but I don’t know why. What time did you hear the shots?”

“Around that time.”

“It was probably yahoos out in the desert,” Robyn said. “It’s happened before. They drive up into the mountains to camp, party, and get shitfaced. I wouldn’t worry yourself about it.”

“Seems reasonable.” Decker shrugged and turned his attention to the food. He ate quickly, digging into the hearty breakfast with gusto. When his hunger was sated, he glanced toward the two FBI agents. “I’m planning to look around this morning, maybe go up to the mine, just to get the lay of the land. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I don’t see why it would be,” Fowler said. “You’re the specialist