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Biggs must’ve had an exit strategy, or he wouldn’t have killed the only person with the knowledge to summon the Baykok.”

“Because he made a mistake,” Decker replied. “After murdering Karuk, he stayed out of the way and let the creature do its work, killing the other miners. Presumably, word spread that the mine was haunted.”

“Which is why the area was consequently named Ghost Canyon.”

“Exactly. Other prospectors would have been loath to step foot inside the mine, especially since Travis was now the only one who knew about the gold still contained there.”

“Right.” Barnes nodded.

“Except that he could never reach the gold. He went back into the mine and gathered up the scattered bones, just like Karuk said to do. He returned them to their original burial spot, which should have appeased the angry spirit, and caused it to depart. But when he tried to reach the gold, the Baykok was still there. Knowing not to look directly at it, he was able to escape, but only barely. This is where the journal ends. The last pages are blank.”

“Something must’ve happened to Travis Biggs.”

“Clearly. While we will never know the circumstances of his demise, it’s reasonable to assume that he kept trying to reach the gold and eventually fell prey to the creature. My guess is that his bones are somewhere in those tunnels to this day.”

“The man he murdered, Karuk, must’ve done something to ensure his own safety.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Decker said. “He knew Travis Biggs might try to double-cross him. He just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He made sure Travis could not get rid of the creature alone. The most obvious way to do that would be to keep one of the bones and hide it. Then, even if Travis reinterred the remains, the skeleton would not be complete, and thus Shilah’s energy would not dissipate.”

“Makes sense,” Barnes agreed. “It also explains why Harlan Biggs was so interested in the mine. Gold. He was heavily in debt to a mobster and might lose his casino, or worse.”

“He must’ve seen news reports about the deaths inside the mine and realized his ancestor’s journal was true,” Decker said.

“It’s all falling into place,” Barnes said. “You still haven’t said why we’re visiting the Paiute. We know what the creature is and how it came into existence. We know how to defeat it.”

“But there are still two things we don’t know,” Decker replied.

“What happened to the bone Karuk held back in anticipation of Travis Biggs deciding he was a liability,” Barnes said.

Decker nodded. “And where Shilah’s grave is located.”

“You think someone in the modern Paiute Tribe has those answers?”

“I believe they can point us to Shilah’s grave,” Decker said as Barnes pulled up in front of their destination, the Paiute Tribe’s administrative center. “And as for the bone Karuk kept back, I may already have solved that mystery. But we won’t know until our return to Haley.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Barnes asked, turning the engine off and jumping from the vehicle. “Let’s take care of this and get back there quick as we can.”

Chapter Fifty-Six

Decker and Special Agent Barnes approached the Las Vegas Paiute Tribe’s administrative building but were disappointed to find the lobby doors locked.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Barnes said.

“It would appear that way.” Decker peered through the glass, noting that the lights were off. “There are no opening hours posted.”

“We might need to come back tomorrow. Get here earlier in the day.”

“I’d rather not wait that long,” Decker said. “We’ll have to find another way. This is too urgent.”

“Short of walking around knocking on random doors, hoping someone hereabouts knows something, I don’t know what else we can do.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Decker said, “that is what we should do. I’d rather not risk the Baykok escaping again tonight and killing anyone else.”

“I hear that.” Barnes rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m just not sure it will get us very far.”

Decker was about to reply, when he heard a door slam around the side of the building. Moments later, a slender woman of no more than thirty years of age, with long dark hair, and an olive complexion, appeared in the parking lot. She carried a bag over her shoulder, a bunch of keys in one hand, and a can of soda in the other.

She looked surprised to see Decker and Barnes at the building’s front doors. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” She asked, changing course, and walking toward them.

“Maybe,” Decker replied. He lifted a hand and shielded his eyes from the sun, which was now low on the horizon. “Do you work here?”

“Right now, I’m the only one that works here. At least, full time.” The woman drew level with them. “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“Yes, there is,” Decker replied. “My name’s John Decker, and my colleague here is Special Agent Jackson Barnes. We’re looking for information regarding the tribe’s history, and in particular, the final resting place of a warrior known as Shilah.”

“I’m Sandra Levi. I’m the administrator here. Actually, I’m the entire staff.”

“Really?” Decker looked surprised.

“There are less than sixty Las Vegas Paiutes left. Most of us work in one of our smoke shops, or at the golf resort out on Route Ninety-Five.”

“I see,” Decker said. “Can you tell us anything about Shilah? It’s important.”

“I’m sorry,” Sandra said, shaking her head slowly. “I’ve never heard that name. How long ago did he live?”

“We don’t have an exact date, but he would’ve died before the 1870s. Possibly even a century or more before that.”

“That far back.” Sandra looked thoughtful. “Our history, especially centuries ago, was mostly oral. There is someone that might help you, although I can’t guarantee he will have the information you need. His name is Bobby Yellowhorse. He’s been collecting the history of the tribe for as long as I can remember. If anyone knows of Shilah, it would be him.”

“Fantastic,” Decker said. “Is he close by?”

“Yes.” Sandra nodded. “He only lives a block from

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