Chapter 5

Seeking Treasure

Monday morning came all too quickly for Emily Appleton. Before she knew it, her weekend was over, and she was stuffing papers in her satchel and generally rushing about to get going before her classes start. She'd forgotten that Patrick lived several miles farther from the university than she did, so today her commute would be longer. She was briskly approaching the door when Patrick called out, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Emily quickly browsed over what was in her hands: keys—purse—bag—coat—

She looked up as Patrick approached, smiling serenely at her and indicating his cheek with his forefinger. Emily laughed, draped her arms around his neck and administered a mind-numbing kiss to his mouth that inherently promised more later when she got home. He pressed a brown paper bag lunch into her open book bag and she was gone. Patrick closed the door behind her and sighed contentedly as he went about preparing for his own day.

***

At 1:30pm, Emily was browsing over the reports from her graduate students working in the field when the telephone rang.

"I'm calling to find out where you would like to go for dinner tonight," Patrick said, making Emily smile as she removed her reading glasses.

"What's the occasion?" she asked, sitting back in her chair.

"Do I need an excuse to spoil the woman I love?" he teased. When she laughed rather than answering, he continued, "You don't have to decide this minute, but let me know this afternoon before you leave the office and I'll make arrangements. Ben and Abigail would like to come with us so I'll need to let them know."

"Sounds good. I don't often go out to eat anymore…I'll really have to look into it!" Emily said. "Anywhere I'd like?"

"Anywhere at all," he assured her. "I have to go for now, but you have the cell phone number and you can leave me a message. I love you, Em."

"I love you, too. See you when I get home," Emily said, still grinning and blushing like a teenager when she hung up the phone. So many of her colleagues and students had commented that she looked so well rested and so happy that she'd had to look in the mirror on her office wall to see what they meant. Emily had lightly touched her own cheeks in wonder as she observed that her complexion was brighter, her eyes were clearer, and she seemed to truly give off a vibration of easy happiness that must have baffled the entire scholarly community. A history professor friend had even joked that Dr. Appleton must have found the fountain of youth along with Cibola. Emily pulled a worn phone book from a drawer in her desk and began to scan the listings of restaurants.

***

Patrick hummed as he dressed for the evening. Emily had called an hour before and chosen a lovely French restaurant and he wanted to look his best. As he dressed, he couldn't help noticing that the three piece suit that used to fit him so well was snugger than he remembered. Perhaps, he thought, Emily wouldn't mind going for walks with him in the evenings to help him get into shape. After all, she had agreed to marry him again—he wanted more than anything to offer her the best husband that he could possibly be. He finished just as the doorbell rang. Ben and Abigail were there. Now all they needed was the guest of honor. He was beginning to wonder what was holding Emily up, but perhaps she had gone home to dress and do her hair and was running late. Patrick was in far too good of a mood to nit-pick about the time. They would have the rest of their lives, right?

***

Emily was eagerly packing her things to go home at five o'clock. She was still smiling from ear to ear and was going over in her head what she should wear to dinner. A knock at her door startled her but she called, "Come in." A tall man in a crème white suit strode into her office bearing a tube that looked like the kind fragile documents were carried in. The man had slicked back dark brown hair that turned to curls as soon as it passed his ears. His eyes were cerulean blue and matched the shirt he wore. The tie was the same color as the rest of the suit, and so were his shoes. His complexion betrayed a Mediterranean lifestyle, but his accent was what threw Emily when he spoke: it was British, like her own.

"Dr. Appleton, I presume?" he said politely.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm leaving the office early tonight," she said professionally. "If you speak to the department secretary—"

"This won't take long. I need you to take a look at an artifact that my research team is investigating," he said.

"I beg your pardon, you are?" Emily said. This man had quite a bit of nerve insisting on seeing her when she had just told him she was leaving for the day. The man smiled cordially and extended his large, tanned hand.

"Dr. Odysseus Major," he replied, shaking Emily's hand a little more firmly than he needed to.

"Forgive me, Dr. Major," Emily said, "but I have to wonder why you don't have an expert on your research team. There are many talented—"

"Our expert was not familiar with this particular dialect and she recommended you," he said, interrupting her for the second time. Emily's patience was swiftly receding at the same rate that her own innate curiosity was growing.

"I haven't all night," she said. "Let's see it. I cannot promise that I know it either, but I will try." Emily set her things on the floor behind her desk and dug her glasses out of her pocket as Dr. Major spread a delicate-looking animal skin parchment onto the coffee table across the room. Emily's jaw fell open.

"Where did you find this?" She asked.

"It's been on display in a museum but no one's been able to identify the markings. It was donate to the museum by a family that's had it since the gold rush," Major replied.

"Shasta?" she asked, beginning to examine the markings.

"Then you know it? You can translate it?" Major asked. Emily looked at the markings again and then slowly took a breath.

"There are variations in the dialect that I've never seen before. I would need to know much more about this in order to even begin to research the markings. You have a very finely preserved map, sir, but at the moment, that is all that it is. If you can give me scans of these and a few days to look them over, I'm sure I can at least attempt to translate," Emily said. Major looked down at his fine shoes and then back at her. Emily sat back almost imperceptibly. Something in the change of his expression put her on her guard and she didn't know why.

"I'm afraid I don't have that kind of time, Dr. Appleton," Major said. Briskly, Emily stood and started back toward her desk.

"Then I'm afraid, Dr. Major, that I cannot help you," she said, picking up her phone. "I'll call the department secretary and see if she can schedule you an appointment to see me tomorrow."

"There's been a change of plans," Major said firmly. Emily looked up to see that Dr. Major had removed a gun from a shoulder holster inside his previously buttoned jacket and was pointing it at her. Emily inconspicuously dialed her voicemail as she set down the receiver.

"What on earth is going on here?" Emily asked.

"You're coming with me, Dr. Appleton," Major replied.

"Where?"

"That map that you claim you can't translate is not just any map. It's leads to a quaint little northern California ghost town," he said, his eyes narrowed and focused on any move that she might make.

"California…Shasta? I've no intention of going off on another buried treasure hunt! I've had quite my fill of adventure for the time being!" Emily cried. The stubbornness in her that was usually so endearing was now quite adamant.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Major said, indicating his weapon.

"I said, no," Emily growled. "If you think, young man, that this is the first time a gun's been pointed in my face, you've got—" Emily abruptly stopped herself when the hammer clicked back into place, making the weapon ready to fire at a fraction of a second's notice. Emily's bravely had nearly run out. Some things were more important than bravery: thoughts of Ben, Abigail, Patrick, and even Riley swirled in her head as she swallowed hard and then nodded.

"I think you've made your point, Dr. Major. California it is," Emily said, setting the handset back on the cradle. A note of fear ran through her voice as she spoke, as if this time, she wasn't sure that this time she'd make it out alive. As they left the office, the little red light indicating a message on Emily's phone blinked in the dim afternoon light.

***

"I wonder what's keeping your mother," Patrick said, sitting in the living room with Ben and Abigail. "She said she was leaving as soon as she could pack her things and that she was going home to change, but she's never taken this long to get ready."

"You don't suppose there could have been an accident, do you?" Abigail said gently.

"God forbid," said Patrick softly as he looked from Abigail to Ben. He stood and walked to the mantle and back as Ben pulled his cell phone out and instinctively dialed his mother's phone number. All thirty of the seconds it took for the phone to ring and then transfer to her voicemail felt like they had weights attached to them as Ben listened to the message and then hung up without leaving one of his own.

"I'm sorry," Abigail said. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Maybe she just left it in her purse or something. I do that all the time." She was trying to make Patrick and Ben feel better, but it wasn't working as well as she hoped. Ben took a few steps and then turned back to them.

"Why don't we swing by the house and get her? She could just be running later than she thought," Ben said. As they gathered their coats, Patrick still wasn't convinced.

"Or she's been in an accident like Abigail said," he said nervously. "She could have fallen in the shower, or down the stairs…she could have had a heart attack for all I know!"

"Dad…" Ben said as they got in the car.

"Did you know that heart disease is the leading cause of death in women?" Patrick asked.

"Mom's a lot of things, but frail is not one of them," Ben insisted. "Did she tell you about the mugger she sent to the emergency room?"

"Say what?" Patrick gasped. Abigail was fighting a grin. "I haven't heard this story either," she said.

"Let's just say he pulled a knife on her and she broke a few things besides his pride," Ben said.

"My goodness…" Patrick muttered in wonder.

"Mom's perfectly healthy and feistier than hell," Ben continued. "I don't want to hear another word about it."

"As you wish," Patrick said with a note of 'you'll be sorry' in his voice. "But when she's lying in a ditch somewhere…"

"Dad!"

"Patrick, really!"

"All right! All right! I'm overreacting!" Patrick said, throwing his hands in the air. "I just don't want anything to be wrong…" There was sympathetic silence in the car for a few moments before Ben stopped for a red light and turned to look at his father.

"I'm sure she's fine," Ben said gently. Patrick nodded but didn't reply. He was still trying to get his own heart to stop pounding in nervous fear of what they'd find when they arrived at Emily's home.

Patrick's mouth went dry when they discovered that Emily's car wasn't in the driveway and her house was secure—as if she hadn't been home yet. Abigail was worried again, and now even Ben was starting to pace, much like his father sometimes did.

"Before we panic, let's check the university. Maybe she just got carried away working. She's not really used to having evening plans. She's more of a workaholic than I am," Ben suggested.

"All right," Patrick said.

"Good idea," Abigail affirmed as they got back into the car.

As they walked through the empty halls of the linguistics department to Emily's office, the trio felt strangely overdressed, but the strangeness only felt stronger when they discovered that Emily's office had been left unlocked and the desk light left on. Ben entered slowly, calling out, "Mom? Are you still here?" When his question went unanswered, he drew closer to the desk with Abigail and Patrick behind him.

"This isn't like her," Abigail said softly.

"I know," Ben said, sitting down in the chair at his mother's desk.

"Stubborn, feisty, intelligent, and apparently quite the magician to pull off such a disappearing act," Patrick grumbled.

"She may be all of that," Ben replied, ignoring the tone of his father's weary voice, "but she's also a Gates. If something was wrong, she would have left us some sort of a clue or a trail to follow."

"If she's so meticulous, she would never have left a message unanswered before she left," Abigail said, gesturing toward the blinking indicator on the phone.

"You may have something there," Ben said, picking up the receiver. A quick search of the shallow middle drawer of the desk got him a little card with her email and voicemail passwords on it, and he carefully pressed each digit and pushed the speaker button so that Abigail and Patrick could hear also. When Emily's voice and that of a stranger played out on the recording, Ben's gaze immediately met his father's. Patrick had to sit down and Abigail bit her lip as she held onto Ben's shoulders.

"We need to know everything there is to know about that map, that legend, and that man and we need to know it fast," Ben said gravely, standing up and pushing in the chair.

"I'll call Riley," Abigail said, opening her cell phone and dialing while Ben crossed the room to sit beside his father, "and I'll have to call Agent Sadusky, too."

"Why?" Ben asked as he sat down.

"That map was the document stolen from the National Archives last night," Abigail said nervously. Ben turned his attention to his father, who sat forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped before his eyes. He looked up at Ben with a look that spelled heartbreak as clearly as Abigail's had when they were escaping from Cibola and Ben had volunteered to stay behind. It tore at Ben's heartstrings and he slid his arm around his father's shoulders.

"Ben…I just…" Patrick choked out, his eyesight blurring with tears.

"I know, dad. I know you just got her back…she's going to be okay," Ben said softly.

"You can't know that," Patrick said.

"It will take them at least three days to drive and we're only a couple of hours behind them. They need her to translate the map and any symbols along the way. She's going to be okay, dad," Ben explained.

"I hope to God you're right, son," Patrick said softly. Abigail snapped her phone closed and turned to them.

"You're not going to believe this," she huffed. "It's a good thing you two are already sitting down."