Page 19 of Nothing But Air

A man stood and joined Virgil at the podium. Early thirties, maybe younger. Expensive hiking boots that had never seen a trail. Designer outdoor gear with the tags probably removed that morning. Dark hair styled with product. A Rolex catching the fluorescent light.

Everything about him screamed money and inexperience.

And something in his eyes. Guarded. Careful. The look of a man holding cards close to his chest.

Virgil gestured to Marcus. “He’s a great-great-great-grandson of Theodore Roosevelt, and his grandfather—Theodore Roosevelt’s great-grandson—hid all three chests of gold in the park back in the seventies. Marcus has information that might help us find the last one.”

A ripple of interest moved through the room.

Teague straightened, attention sharpening. One more treasure to find. And maybe—maybe—the park could reopen.

Marcus stepped forward, his expression serious. “Thank you, Virgil. I’ll keep this brief.” He pulled out a worn notebook—leather cover cracked with age, pages soft from decades of handling. “I know you have heard that the chests were hid as a publicity stunt. Something done to boost tourism in the national parks. That isn’t exactly true.”

A murmur traveled through the crowd, and Virgil raised his hand to quiet everyone.

“My grandfather hid the chests back in the seventies because he felt as if his three sons had lost what it meant to be a Roosevelt. He had hoped the search would bring the brothers together. However, it ended up dividing them more. All he told them was that they were all hidden in the same national park. My father spent years researching and searching, but without knowing which park to start in, it always seemed impossible. When it was clear they weren’t going to find them, the brothers spun the story to elicit the help of the public. It worked for a while, but by the nineties, it had faded into myth.”

Teague’s gaze shot to Virgil. The guy’s jaw was clenched tight.

Marcus cleared his throat. “After the first discovery over a month ago, we finally knew the park, and I started digging through my father’s old papers. And my grandfather’s.”

He opened the notebook, revealing pages of handwritten notes and copied documents—faded ink, careful diagrams, margin notes in different hands. “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the poem that describes the three locations. If not, we’re passing out copies for you.”

Half sheets of paper began to pass through the rows. Teague took one, then passed it on.

Where the river carved its deepest mark,

In shadows hidden in a crevasse dark,

A treasure rests in canyon deep,

Where ancient stones their secrets keep.

High above where eagles soar,

On cliffs where no footsteps came before,

Where birds find rest on rocky ledge,

A chest awaits at heaven’s edge.

In caverns hidden from the light,

Where darkness reigns both day and night,

Tucked in the rocks, it waits for you,

A chest hides where the spring flows through.

Marcus cleared his throat. “We believe the chests mentioned in the first and third stanzas are the two chests already found, so that leaves us with stanza two for our clue.”

“Where eagles soar, cliffs, rocky ledge?” Liam released a laugh. “Have you looked at the canyon? That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

No kidding. Teague’s jaw tightened. They had been going over that since the poem surfaced.

“True. But based on what I’ve found in the documents, I believe I can narrow down the search area significantly,” Marcus continued. “But I need help. Someone who knows this terrain. Someone with technical climbing experience and backcountry navigation skills.”

Noah leaned forward. “How much are we talking about narrowing it down?”