Inside the cardboard shell sat a velvet-lined jewelry box of the highest quality. I flicked the lid open and was nearly blinded by the reflection of my flashlight. Dozens of raw, uncut diamonds spilled out onto my palm like frozen rain.
I tore open a second box, then a third, and then a dozen more. Each one was a treasure chest filled with emeralds, gold watches, and intricate necklaces. This wasn’t just a hidden stash; it was a king’s ransom in stolen goods.
The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. My kind, helpful uncle hadn’t just been a handyman. He had been a guardian for a massive haul of criminal loot that had been missing for over twenty years.
I sat on the dirt floor of my barn, surrounded by millions of dollars in gems. I thought about the men at Marsha’s house and the “Level 1 Priority” my uncle had lived with. He wasn’t protecting a truck; he was a prisoner of it.
I knew I couldn’t stay there, and I couldn’t keep the treasure. If those men found me, I was a dead man walking. I closed the compartment, hid the truck behind a wall of hay, and began the long walk to meet Marsha.
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