Covert Pursuit by Terri Reed Page A

Sanchez landed here?”
    His eyes twinkled. “Yes. There was a Native American tribe living on the island. Sanchez married one of the tribe’s princesses. He used the dowry to claim the land and founded the town. He then buried the rest of the treasure in fear that Rodriquez would come back looking for it.”
    Remembering the tunnel she’d seen in the side of the cliffs, she asked, “Did Sanchez tell his son where he’d buried the treasure?”
    Horatio gave a beleaguered sigh. “Unfortunately, no.” Then he brightened and gave his grandsons a sidelong glance. “But we think we may know where it is, though.” From the breast pocket of his linen shirt he produced a round gold coin and offered it for her inspection. “We found this in the side of the hill.”
    Taking the coin, she marveled at the piece of history in her hand. “This is real?”
    “Yes, we’ve had it authenticated.” He took the coin back and redeposited it into his pocket.
    “So you’re hunting treasure,” she stated.
    “That’s why the armed security. They think the treasure is in the cove. This has nothing to do with Picard.”
    Palpable disappointment echoed in Jason’s voice. Sympathy twisted around Angie’s insides like the jasmine winding around the trellises on the outside of the Corrindas’ house. She understood how much Jason wanted to find the gunrunner and bring him to justice. Though the look in his eyes and the note of hate in his voice when he’d talked of Picard made Angie almost glad they hadn’t found the man.
    She really didn’t want to see Jason do something that could ruin his life.

SEVEN
    A deluge of rain fell as Angie left the Corrinda estate. She was no closer to finding Picard than before. But at least now she understood why the Corrindas had an army of armed men and their purpose. To guard the site where Horatio and his grandsons believed the treasure to be hidden.
    But the question remained, what had been in that black bag that she’d seen dumped in the ocean? If not a body, then what?
    Up ahead, Jason emerged from the tree line, now wearing the rain slicker with the hood pulled over his face. She pulled the car to the side of the road and he climbed in. Rainwater dripped onto the seat.
    “That was a complete waste of time,” he stated glumly.
    She peeled the earpiece from her ear and slipped into the pocket of her jacket. “So you didn’t find Picard yet. If he’s here on the island, you will.”
    Angie drove on toward his condo.
    “Yeah, from your lips to God’s ears,” he said.
    She slanted him a glance. “Have you prayed about it?”
    He lifted one eyebrow. “Every day for the past six months. I don’t think God is listening.”
    “Just because you haven’t received an answer doesn’t mean He’s not listening.” She slowed at a stop sign and turned to face him fully. “You know there’s a Bible verse that talks about time from God’s perspective.”
    Amusement danced in his gaze. “Really?”
    “Yes, really. It basically says that to God, a day is a thousand years, and a thousand years is a day. I think the point being, time, as we humans understand the concept, is irrelevant. God moves when He deems the time to be right and always to our benefit.”
    “You sound as if you really believe that,” he said, peering at her with curiosity in his eyes.
    Sadness for his obvious doubts about her faith—and, she suspected, about his own—flooded her. She tried for some levity as she eased the car through an intersection. “What? You think I’m just giving you lip service? Of course I believe it.”
    He turned to stare out the window. “I wish I could be so sure. Garrett had faith like yours.”
    The pain in his voice packed a wallop. He was still taking his friend’s death hard. Angie reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “Faith isn’t so hard. It’s really coming to terms with our own inability to control life and knowing, believing, there is a loving God who can control