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Spenser and Dakota lived in a townhome in Echo Park. It was roomy and tastefully decorated with the exception of Dakota’s bedroom, which resembled that of a teenager, with clothing strewn on the floor and empty cans, bottles, and glasses on every flat surface.
The contrast between the twins was striking. Spenser was an astute businesswoman with a strong work ethic. Dakota was a daydreamer who acted much younger than his age. He lived with Spenser, not for financial reasons, but because she doubted he would last a week without supervision.
While Kendra did some digging into the mysterious Joab Zollner, the others sat down at the kitchen table to examine what they had found inside the hearse. Maddock carefully opened the bundle. Inside was a sheaf of old papers, brittle and yellowed with age. Lines of precise writing covered the pages front and back.
“What does it say?” Bones asked.
Maddock read the first line aloud. “So, we boiled my son, and did eat him; and I said unto her on the next day, give thy son, that we may eat him; and she hath hid her son.”
“Ugh.” Spenser scrunched up her face as if she had smelled something disgusting. “I hope it gets better.”
Maddock continued to read. “For whatsoever man he be that hath a blemish, he shall not approach: a blind man, or a lame man, or he that hath a flat nose, or anything superfluous, or a man that is brokenfooted, or brokenhanded, or crookbacked, or a dwarf, or that hath a blemish in his eye, or be scurvy, or scabbed, or hath his stones broken.”
“Ouch,” Bones said.
“Hold on a second.” Spenser frowned. “Disabled and injured people can’t go to church?”
“Not during Old Testament times,” Maddock said.
“They’re both Bible verses but I don’t see a connection,” Bones said.
Maddock scanned the page. It was filled with more verses with no obvious commonalities. He turned the sheet over and found more of the same written on the back.
“I don’t get it,” Maddock said as he inspected the other pages. “It’s just out-of-context Bible verses.”
“Somebody went to the trouble of hiding these pages in a secret compartment in Brigham Young’s hearse,” Kendra said. “We’re missing something.”
“Bones, you take a look.” Maddock pushed the sheets across the table to his friend. “Spenser and I will dig into Golden Jesus.”
This line of inquiry bore no more fruit than their attempt to puzzle out the mysterious pages. In an online treasure hunting forum, they found a couple of references to the lost Treasure of the Golden Jesus, but without elaboration. They finally took a break.
“This is going nowhere,” Maddock said. “Kendra, any luck with Zollner?”
“Not much. Zollner grew up and attended university in Bavaria, where he majored in business. I did find one interesting detail. His wife, Petra Fischer, is the great-granddaughter of Magda Fischer.”
“I don’t know that name,” Maddock said.
“She was an actress and sex symbol back in the thirties.”
“How does that help us?” Bones asked.
“I said it was interesting, not useful.”
“Bones, any epiphanies about the documents from the hearse?”
“I’ve never had an epiphany in my life. And no, I found jack-all.”
“I hate to say this,” Spenser said, “but are we certain the treasure is real? I’m not finding anything online.”
“There is a wealth of information out there that isn’t on the web,” Maddock said. “Books and documents that have never been scanned or transcribed, artifacts that haven’t been cataloged, and a wealth of obscure legends no one has really delved into.”
“How do we move forward, then?” she asked.
Maddock grinned. “The old-fashioned way.”
“How did people do any research before the Internet?” Dakota asked.
“Books, documents, oral tradition, talk to experts,” Maddock said.
“Just thinking about it makes me tired and thirsty.” The young man went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.
“I see you gave up on your raw water idea,” Bones said. When they had first met, Dakota was pitching a product he called “raw water”—unfiltered, untreated water “fresh” from the ground.
“It gave people the runs,” Dakota said. “One guy was hospitalized. On the bright side, it led to the discovery of a previously unknown parasite.”
“Congratulations,” Bones deadpanned.
“Thanks. I’m also working on a sugarless soft drink. It’s balsamic vinegar mixed with seltzer water. It tastes like cola, but without all the calories.”
“It’s also highly acidic and will eat up your teeth,” Spenser said.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet.” He opened the water bottle and took a gulp. “This is the best-tasting water in the world.”
“Let me try.” Bones took a sip, frowned. “It tastes weird, like somebody added sea salt.”
“Oh my God, Dakota, you didn’t give him some of your latest creation, did you?” Spenser asked.
“What brand is this?” Bones took another sip.
“Celebrity sweat,” Dakota declared proudly. “It’s regular water, filtered this time, with an added spoonful of sweat from a celebrity.”
Bones spewed a mouthful of water onto the floor. “What in the hell, dude? That’s nasty.”
“It’s just salt water.”
“And waste products and toxicants,” Spenser added.
“Incidentally, whose sweat did I just drink?” Bones said.
“Mine. I haven’t persuaded any public figures to contribute. I pitched it to Steven Segar, but he claims he already sells his sweat to MMA fighters. Says it works like steroids or PEDs but without the side effects. I also asked Terry Gold, and he told me to shove the bottle up my tailpipe. I don’t even own a car.”
Bones grimaced and handed the bottle back to Dakota. “Back to Golden Jesus. How are we going to find it?”
Maddock considered the clues they had already discovered, and an idea came to him.
“Daniel was obviously hunting for the treasure. Remember the draft letter we found in his email account? He was seeking the help of a professor of archaeology in Utah.”
“I’ve already followed up on that lead. The guy died a few years back,” Spenser said.
“Yes, but he was on the faculty of Central Utah University. And we happen to know someone who worked in his department for several years.” Maddock cast a meaningful glance at Bones, who grinned.
“Time to give Isaiah a call,” Bones said. Isaiah Horsely was Bones’ cousin and a professor of archaeology. A few years back, he had aided them in their search for the Seven Cities of Cibola. He now worked at the Black Hills Archaeological Institute in North Dakota and had recently helped Maddock solve a murder.
Bones called his cousin, and after exchanging pleasantries, asked Isaiah if he had ever heard of the Treasure of the Golden Jesus. His eyes brightened as he listened. “Hold on, Izzy, I’m going to put you on speakerphone. He tapped a button on the screen.
“I told you not to call me that,” came Isaiah’s voice from the phone.
“And that’s why he does it,” Maddock said.
“Maddock! I’m glad there’s someone there with a few brain cells intact.”
Maddock gave a brief overview of their search thus far and gave the name of the professor whom Daniel had tried to contact.
“I worked with him. Good guy, a bit eccentric. Dabbled in the same sort of esoteric stuff Bones is into.”
“Was he interested in the Treasure of the Golden Jesus?” Maddock asked.
“Oh, yes. He only talked about it with me once, but there was a gleam in his eye like Bones at a Vegas buffet.”
“I won’t deny it,” Bones said. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Tell us the story.”
“Understand, I haven’t researched this myself. I’m repeating Zander’s tale the way I recall it. He was a collector of stories, so his information came almost exclusively from oral tradition.”
“Got it,” Maddock said.
“In the early 1800s, a group of Spanish soldiers serving in Mexico deserted and went on a rampage across what is now the American southwest. They traveled north, killing, robbing, and pillaging. They even went as far as to raid churches and monasteries. They eventually accumulated so much treasure that it required forty mules to carry it.”
“That would buy a lot of Dos Equis,” Bones said.
“That’s great,” Isaiah said. “Now shut up and let me tell the story.”
Bones laughed. “Such love in our family.”
“Back to the story. As the soldiers crossed the desert, their mules started dropping. Each time one of them died, they stashed some of their loot along the trail. Eventually, they had no choice but to hide the remainder of their horde in a cave somewhere in the Escalante region of Utah. They covered the cave entrance to conceal it. When they tried to go back for it, they were driven away by the Navajo. The survivors never returned to claim the treasure.”
Maddock was familiar with the Escalante Desert. Located in southwestern Utah near the Nevada border, it was known for its colorful sandstone formations and its narrow, twisting slot canyons. A treasure secreted there could easily remain hidden.
“Doctor Horsely,” Spenser began, “where does the name Golden Jesus come from?”
“Please, call me Isaiah. The prizes of the treasure trove were a three-foot tall cross of gold, and a golden statue of Jesus, hence the name Treasure of the Golden Jesus.”
“The Escalante Desert is vast,” Maddock said. “Can you narrow it down for us at all?”
“Legends of the local Indigenous people tell of treasure caves in the Fiftymile Creek area. Pictographs there lend credence to the story, and Spanish artifacts have been found in the area.”
“That helps. Anything else you can tell us?” Maddock asked.
“Zander might have been paranoid, but he told me there were dangerous people after the treasure. He said they first contacted him about thirty years ago. Now and then he’d get an unexpected visitor, a large, brutish type, who would inquire about his research. They never threatened him, but he said they went out of their way to intimidate him—flashing firearms, trimming their fingernails with a knife, making references to people who had gone missing. I know you two can take care of yourselves, but please be careful.”
“Will do,” Maddock said. He thanked Isaiah and ended the call.
“That gives us something to go on,” Bones said.
“True, but it’s thin. I feel like we’re missing something obvious in the papers we found in the hearse,” Maddock said.
“Whoever wrote them is an idiot,” Dakota said.
“I can’t wait to hear this.” Bones grinned at Maddock.
“All these random capital letters in the middles of words? Half the sentences don’t begin with capital letters. Same with proper nouns. It’s like he has no idea what the rules of capitalization are. Even I know the rules and my dad paid for my high school diploma.”
“He did not,” Spenser said.
“Only kidding, Spence.” Dakota turned to the others and mouthed “Did too.”
Bones pulled one of the papers over to his side of the table. His eyebrows sprang up like a surprised cat. “Dude, he’s totally right. How did we miss it?”
“Maybe somebody paid for your diploma, too,” Spenser said.
“Didn’t need to. I was hooking up with the guidance counselor my senior year. She made sure I passed.” Bones held up his hands. “Don’t worry, she was single, and I was eighteen.”
“That’s a crime these days,” Spenser said. “And gross in any decade.”
Maddock barely heard them. He scanned the first page, looking only at the capital letters. He thought he understood! “I need a pencil and paper.”
“What for?” Spenser asked.
“I think if we take only the letters that are capitalized, they will form a message,” Maddock said.
“Why don’t you read the letters to me, and I’ll type them into my phone? That way we’ll have a permanent digital copy.”
“I’m old-school, but we can do it your way.” Maddock had to admit reading the letters aloud was much faster than copying them down. But it made it almost impossible for him to piece them together in his mind. Only Spenser could read the message as it unfolded. He paused at the end of the first page. “Tell me what we’ve got so far.”
“I have seen the face of the devil.” Spenser pursed her lips. “That’s ominous.”
“Let’s keep going,” Maddock said.
They went through every page, listing the capital letters. As Maddock read, a fascinating tale unfolded. The author, Brigham Young, had been visited by a man named Croslin, who sought guidance for a problem he faced. While searching for lost sheep, Croslin had discovered gold in the desert to the south. Brigham Young strongly discouraged his followers from seeking gold, which he believed stoked the fires of greed and gluttony, leading a person to commit all sorts of evil. And mining towns always seemed to become dens of iniquity. But there was something unique about Croslin’s discovery that concerned Young so much that, following directions provided by the shepherd, he personally led an expedition to seek out the gold.
“Did he find it?” Bones asked.
“I don’t know,” Maddock said. “But I’ll bet you’ll find out if you stop interrupting.”
“Never going to happen, but keep on dreaming if it makes you happy.”
Young did, in fact, find what he called “cursed treasure.” He was “of two minds” about the treasure, and concluded it was best to leave it alone. He had decided to leave this record, believing that, in the event he was wrong, God would lead the right person to find it.
“I’ve got to admit, Dakota, you’re a genius!” Bones said. “Just not where it comes to bottled water.”
“Thanks. Sounds like we’re making a trip to Fiftymile Creek,” Dakota said. “I’ll start packing.”
“Hold on. Maddock and I are going,” Bones said. “You heard what Brigham Young said. Sounds like the two of us were chosen.”
“So was Jesus, but he had disciples,” Dakota said.
“He’s got you there,” Kendra said.
“Don’t encourage him,” Bones said. “And you’re not going either.”
“That’s up to her. And don’t forget, I’m the one who cracked your code, amigo.”
“It’s for your own good. The people who are after us will crack your skull without a second thought.”
Maddock was surprised Spenser had not chimed in yet. He expected her to put up a fight, but she sat smiling, typing on her phone.
“Let’s get down to grass tacks,” Dakota said.
“You mean brass tacks,” Spenser didn’t look up as she kept typing.
Dakota nodded, eyes wide. “That makes so much more sense.” He turned back to Maddock and Bones. “Like I was saying, let’s get down to... tacks. You can leave without us, but that means Spenser and I will go on our own, and Kendra if she wants to join. That means, whatever danger we face, I’ll be the only one there to keep them safe.”
“Reverse that last part and you’re spot-on,” Spenser said.
“The man does make a compelling case.” Bones sounded like he was already resigned to his fate. “Better they tag along than go haring off on their own.”
Maddock rubbed his temples. Searching for a hidden cave in the Escalante Desert was a treacherous proposition even without the Dominion on their tail. “Spenser, you’ve got to understand how dangerous this could be.”
“I do understand. But we won’t be alone.”
“No offense,” Bones said, “but you’ll be a distraction we really don’t need.”
Spenser gave a one-shoulder shrug and continued typing. “Go without us. We’ll be taking a team in on our own.”
“What team?” Maddock asked.
Finally, Spenser looked up from her phone. Mischief sparkled in her big, blue eyes, but her face was a mask of innocence. “I’m going for work. I just pitched the idea to Gold and Segar, and they love it.”
Maddock sprang to his feet. “Why would you do that?” Maddock and Spenser rarely fought, but this one was promising to be a doozy.
“Lots of reasons.” Spenser began counting on her fingers. “First of all, there’s safety in numbers. Second, they will pick up the bill. Third, you and Bones may lead the search, you can lay claim to any treasure we find, and you’ll receive a stipend on top of that. You get money, they get content, and I advance my career.” She batted her eyelashes and flashed a mocking smile. “What was your objection, again?”
Maddock let out a long breath. He knew when he was beaten. “Fine, just remember to pack your breathing strips. You’ve been snoring a lot lately.”
Spenser quirked an eyebrow. “One more comment like that and you’ll be sleeping with Bones and Dakota.”
“By the way,” Dakota said, “I forgot to tell you, somebody was standing behind the juniper outside the window.”
“What?” Maddock rushed outside with Bones hot on his heels, but there was no one in sight. He looked at the ground behind the juniper. Sure enough, there were footprints, about a man’s size ten, in the earth outside the window. There was no meter around to be read. It looked like someone had indeed been eavesdropping on their conversation.
“That kid is going get us killed,” Bones said.
“That ‘kid’ is almost thirty years old,” Maddock said as they headed back inside.
“He won’t make it to thirty if he pisses me off again,” Bones said.
“Three deep breaths,” Maddock said.
“That never worked for me.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Maddock closed his eyes, calmed himself before he stepped through the door. Dakota looked abashed. “When did you first notice this person?”
“While you were reading out the letters to Spenser. I didn’t say anything because I thought it was the meter reader. It was only after she finished that I looked again, and the person was just hurrying away. I was going to say something, but then Bones called me a genius and I got distracted.”
“I’ll never make that mistake again,” Bones said.
“It’s over and done with,” Maddock said. “If that was someone from the Dominion, they now have the same clues we do. It’s going to be a race, and I mean to get there first.”
