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“No. Not yet. But I hope we can both help each other out. See, I know the only reason anyone drops by Derek’s place driving a vehicle like yours is if they want information about his father’s estate. And grandfather’s.”

“Derek give you a heads-up we were there?”

“Hmm. He’s a good guy despite his bitterness with his family. And he needs money. He lets me know things.”

“You’re a treasure hunter.” Kira let her guard down a bit, with her arms falling to her sides.

Bryce wasn’t backing down just yet. This man had some explaining to do. And he was still armed.

Theo nodded. “I take city slickers like yourself out into the wilderness in search of buried treasure. We play up the local folklore and tell a few ghost stories to give tourists an adventure while camping. Throw in a few s’mores, and people shell out big bucks for one of our tours. But we mainly do white water rafting and glamping, if you can believe that.”

He huffed. Despite the man’s rough exterior, his Southern accent somehow softened his appearance.

Bryce still wasn’t ready to trust him, though. “What does any of this have to do with us?”

“I know one of the rabbit statues was on display in a fancy museum. If you’re searching for the other two, I might be able to help.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

Bryce snorted. “For a price, I’m sure.”

“I’ve got to earn a living somehow.”

“I’m Katrina and this is my husband Brian,” Kira said. “We work for a private collector who pays top dollar for one-of-a-kind finds.”

Bryce nodded but stayed silent, waiting to see where Kira was going with this.

Theo leaned forward, interest sparking in his blue eyes. “I can tell you what I know. All I ask is you pay me a finder’s fee. Shall we say fifteen percent?”

Kira glanced at Bryce, and he gave her a look that said Let’s do it.

“I think that’s a fair price,” Bryce said. Of course, the FBI wouldn’t be paying this guy a dime. He struck Bryce as the type who played both sides, throwing out shady offers to anyone who might bite. But was he all talk?

Theo leaned back, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, and Bryce sensed he enjoyed spinning tales as much as chasing treasure.

“Ever heard of the Collector?” Theo asked.

Bryce shook his head.

“No,” Kira said.

“The legend of the Collector dates back to the Civil War.” Theo lowered his voice, as if the walls might overhear. “According to the story, one man set out to protect valuable artwork during the war. As Union troops moved across the area, he gathered expensive paintings to keep them safe. When a mansion reputed to have several valuable pieces caught fire, this guy risked his life and darted into the flames and saved them.”

If what this guy said was true, Bryce’s theories of someone sitting on a stockpile of art might hold water.

“The man built a bunker for the paintings in some remote and secure place where he could guard the collection,” Theo continued, pausing every so often for dramatic effect. “When he passed away, his son took over. It’s said that each generation took the reins and became the new Collector. At some point, they added climate control and maintained high standards to preserve history. They guarded the art and the secret.”

He paused once more, and Bryce smothered a smile. Theo had so much showmanship that he could see why people would go on treasure hunts with him.

“What does this have to do with rabbit statues?” Bryce asked.

Theo waved his hands as if he were about to pull a rabbit statue out of a hat in some epic magic show. The theatrics were starting to wear on Bryce’s nerves. “I’ve been researching this for years. I believe the man had a grandson who became a soldier in World War II. My theory is that he added to the collection. The family mission was to save art—by stealing it. It’s possible this guy retrieved art looted by the Nazis and got it out of Germany.”

“So, let me get this straight. You think that missing and stolen artifacts from the Civil War through World War II have been secretly housed in some small town in West Virginia?” Bryce leaned across the counter, his brain working, comparing what he knew to be fact to this new information from a questionable source.

Theo smiled, obviously loving the spotlight. “If that man passed the role of Collector to his son, that soldier could be Derek Young’s grandfather, Daniel Young. Derek’s father Fenton had been town historian his entire life, taking on the role from his father. What if Fenton was the last Collector?”

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Bryce said. “Why wouldn’t they have found someone else to take over? If they’d been that meticulous for five generations to keep this secret, they’d have a contingency plan in case something happened.”