Set to the side under the cover of trees, a small pipe sprouted from the earth. It was topped by a conical roof. Luke knelt next to it. This was a ventilation duct. Unlike the house, this had been built in recent years. Maybe around the time of the renovation.

What were they venting way over here?

And then it struck him.

They were venting something underground.

He yanked his phone from his pocket and ran a search. What does a ventilation pipe for an underground bunker look like?

The first image populated. His pulse and his focus intensified as he held up the image on his phone’s screen, comparing it to the scene before him.

It turned out that a ventilation pipe for an underground bunker looked just like . . . this.

What better place to store stolen gold than in a bunker, on a remote property, owned by someone not named Vance?

Certainty flooded him.

He drove to the nearest town. A friendly local directed him to the only pay phone still in operation. He pushed a quarter into the slot and dialed.

“Blairsville Police Department,” a female voice said.

“Is this Detective Romano’s station?”

“It is. But I’m afraid he’s not in just yet.”

Excellent. He’d hoped for that because he didn’t want to risk Romano recognizing his voice. “No problem. A friend of mine told me yesterday that he saw an article about missing Confederate gold. It mentioned that the police are searching for it and listed Romano’s name. I have information for him.”

“I see. I can transfer you to his voice mail—”

“Actually, can you take down a written message and hand it to him when he arrives?”

“Certainly.” Paper rustled on the other end. “I’m ready.”

“I thought Romano would want to know that I have a place near Blood Mountain. About a week and a half ago, I was out smoking a cigarette and saw three men unloading gold from an ATV into my neighbor’s cabin.”

“Do you know which night that was?”

“Sunday, March twenty-eighth.”

“And where is the cabin located?”

Luke rattled off the address. “It’s owned by a guy named Cliff Ollenburger, but Cliff wasn’t one of the guys unloading gold. Cliff has a son named Cody, and one of the men looked to me like Cody’s father-in-law, Ken Vance. Are you getting this down?”

“One second.” Then, “Yes. Go on.”

“Cliff has an underground bunker below the house.”

“May I have your name and number?”

“I’d prefer to remain anonymous. I wouldn’t want to stir up any trouble with my neighbor. Will you make sure that Romano gets this message?”

“I will.”

Before she could say more, Luke hung up and texted Finley.

Luke

I’m going to arrive late today. Can I pick up anything for you?

Finley

How about some vegan cinnamon rolls from Sugar Maple Kitchen?

Luke

Done.