2 A Haunting In Oregon by Michael Richan Page A

removed one of the bags
and held it up for the others to see.
    Roy stepped up to the bag and
inspected it. “‘Klamath Mining Company,’ just like Robert said.”
    “Should I untie it?” Steven asked.
    “Wait,” Roy said. “We need to
transfer the contents to something else, as Robert instructed. Pete, could we
ask you for a few more baggies like the one you gave us yesterday in the south
wing?”
    Pete’s eyes were as wide as
saucers. “Sure!” he said, and left Steven and Roy to go upstairs.
    “So far so good,” Roy said after
he left.
    “He may not try anything, but
let’s just be ready if he does,” Steven said.
    “I’m always ready,” Roy said.
“You’re the one I worry about in that regard.”
    “Don’t worry,” Steven said. “If he
tries anything, I won’t second-guess myself. I’ll take him down.”
    “Just be careful,” Roy said.
“Don’t misjudge his actions and create a problem where none exists.”
    They could hear Pete coming back
down the stairs. He worked his way through the basement rooms and joined them, breathing
heavy. He raised his arm, holding a handful of plastic Ziploc bags.
    “OK,” Roy said. “Pete, can you
hold open one of those bags while Steven pours the contents into it? We have to
be careful and not spill any of it, or Robert will not come through for us.”
    Pete got down on one knee next to him
as Steven untied the twine on the bag he was holding. He positioned the canvas
bag over Pete’s open baggie and slowly tipped it over. The contents flowed from
Steven’s bag into the clear baggie in Pete’s hands.
    “Would you look at that!” Pete
said. “Sure looks like gold to me!”
    They stopped and switched to a new
baggie as the current one filled up. One canvas bag filled two of the Ziploc
baggies. Steven shook and inspected the empty canvas bag to be sure they had
emptied it completely.
    They repeated the process and
wound up with four Ziploc baggies full of tiny glittering nuggets. Steven
placed them back into the tin box.
    “Pete, do you have a way we could
burn these bags?”
    Pete left the room once more and
returned with lighter fluid and a book of matches. He took the two bags and
tossed them into the hole in the wall, then squirted a stream of fluid onto
them. He lit a match and tossed it in. The bags began to burn and the smoke
rose up out of the hole.
    “When I refill that hole, I’ll
leave the ashes in there,” Pete said. They watched the bags burning for a
moment. “Shouldn’t you two get that gold where it belongs? The sooner it’s out
of here the better I’ll feel.”
    “Right,” Steven said, picking up
the tin box.
    “I’ll let you out the same door,”
Pete said. “Don’t worry about this mess, I’ll fill the hole back in and get the
bricks back in place, then I’ll patch the drywall. Sarah will never know.”
    Pete led them to the basement door
and opened it for them. “Will you let me know how it goes?” he asked Roy.
    “Sure,” Roy said. “I’ll call you
as soon as we’ve delivered it.”
    “Thank you,” Pete said. “I hope
this settles it.”
    “So do I,” said Roy.

Chapter Ten
     
     
     
    Roy drove as Steven searched for
Amy Maysill on his phone. He found her and mapped to her home. “She lives a few
blocks from the cemetery,” Steven said.
    “Probably walks to it to maintain
the gravesites,” Roy said.
    “What are we going to tell her
about this?” Steven said. “I know if someone showed up at my house and said,
‘Here’s a shitload of gold for you,’ I’d have questions.”
    “We’ll tell her the truth,” Roy
replied, “but omit some parts. A recently discovered will of her ancestor
disclosed the location of this treasure, and directed that it go to his
descendants.”
    “There could be dozens of his
descendants living,” Steven said. “Why her?”
    “She doesn’t need to know this is
any more than her share,” Roy said.
    “What if she knows other members
of the family?”
    “I