Riddles that Kill Page 15

  “A lot. I can’t believe he would want to walk away from it.”

  “Did Mr. Walden say why he was leaving?”

  “Not really.” Rod shrugged his shoulders. “He keeps repeating that he has to leave. One time he did tell me this place has been giving him nightmares.”

  “Real nightmares?” Maria knew plenty about those. Unfortunately for Mr. Walden (and herself), nightmares traveled with a person.

  “Kind of.” Rod squirmed. “I wouldn’t repeat this to anyone else but you, but he told me he thought the reservoir was haunted. But he could just be making that up.”

  “Haunted, as in ghosts?”

  “That’s the only kind of haunted I know about, but you’re the expert on that kind of stuff, not me. Let me just say, John’s mood didn’t get any better when the skeletons started popping out of the water. But still, is that really enough to convince him to waste all that time and money? I can’t imagine. There’s got to be something more.”

  The developer and Maria seemed to have more in common than Maria felt comfortable with. She too had been feeling the need to leave Kanab, and she too was certain there were spirits at the reservoir. How could there not be, with all those Native American graves about? But Maria didn’t have millions of dollars resting on getting the reservoir done. A few ghosts would never scare her away from anything.

  “I mean,” Rod interrupted Maria’s thoughts, “I guess it’s not that strange to want to leave. I’ve needed to get out of Kanab for a while now, too. But I have history here. John, he’s from Minnesota. Why wouldn’t he stay and finish the job, unless he was worried about being found out?”

  “I will look into Walden, but honestly, I don’t get you, Rod.” Maria bit her lip, trying to stop herself from saying anything that might make him feel bad. But she didn’t bite hard enough. “You love this place. You could have chosen to practice law anywhere you wanted to, but you chose Kanab? Why? You have roots here. The people love you and you love them. I don’t understand what has made you turn your back on the town and want to leave it behind you. I think you’re acting just as irrational as Walden.”

  Rod stared at her intently but didn’t say a word.

  “Anyhow,” Maria took a step toward her front door, “I will definitely talk with Walden tomorrow—just in case it might be connected to Justin’s kidnapping. I really appreciate you bringing it to my attention, and I can’t thank you enough for your help trying to find Fossum.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to get after you.”

  “Why don’t we go together to see Walden. I think it will be more natural that way. What time are you free tomorrow?” Rod couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. First they were in his pockets and next they were clasped behind his back.

  “I’m meeting with Steven Veil in the morning. Sometime after that would work.” Maria went to open her front door. Standing on the porch felt so out of place.

  “Okay.” Rod took a few steps away from her, leaving an obvious chasm of space between them. “I’ll call you around lunchtime.”

  Maria looked into his face and wished, for a brief moment, that things were different. But life was full of disappointments, and she was pretty sure she would never find someone to love who loved her back. It was just the way it was.

  But finding Justin? That was a different story. She would not accept anything but success. Absolutely nothing.

  “Noon sounds good. Goodnight.” Maria turned the key and opened the front door and walked in.

  Rod didn’t leave her porch until she was in the house with the front door shut and locked. Maria noted to herself that chivalry wasn’t lost on Rod, even if everything else was.

  Chapter Seventeen

  According to Fenn, many people have claimed to have found the treasure, but no one has provided any evidence to him supporting their claim. Forrest reconfirmed searchers have been within 200 feet of the treasure and many within 500 feet.

  “Where to Find Fenn’s Treasure in New Mexico” (video), August 9, 2017, https://agypsyskiss.wordpress.com/

  In the early hours of the morning, sleep came accidently to Maria. She was only going to close her eyes for minute—just a quick break from her research on Jarbidge. Bent over the kitchen table, her head resting on her arms, her breathing steadied and her mind shut down.

  Except for her dreams.

  Ryan’s clothes were in tatters. Rips in his pants. Yellow and brown stains on his shirt. They had brought him to her.

  Did they suspect their relationship was more than professional? How could they? She had given no clue, not one tiny slip that Ryan meant more to her than being a co-worker.

  “Tell her.” A guard shook Ryan by the shoulder. “Tell her what you told us.”

  Ryan’s face was a blank mask, as if emotions had never been invented. “I told them the other names of the other members of our unit.”

  A sneer from the guard. “Tell her the names. She will see her stubbornness has been wasted.”

  “Kent Tyler, JoAnn Rigy, and Gabe Ford.”

  Pretend. All of them. No such people existed. But how should Maria respond? What would make these people leave Ryan alone?

  She hated the games, the guessing, not knowing. It seemed everything she did was wrong. This time, she would let them think Ryan had betrayed her and was now loyal to them. It would keep him safe.

  Maria’s face blackened. Her voice lowered. “How could you? How could you do that to the team?”

  Ryan said nothing but stared past her at the mold that was growing on the wall where sewage dripped into Maria’s cell.

  “You cannot stop us,” said the guard. A bite of his breakfast hung from his beard. His clothes were just a dirty as Ryan’s. How had these men developed such a power complex? It was what they craved, yearned for, and desired.

  It was pathetic. They were the weakest of individuals she had ever encountered.

  The guard pulled out a partially filled water bottle with the label torn off. Inside was a brown liquid. “Give me your hand.”

  Ryan held out his hand, and the guard put the water bottle into it.

  “Your choice. You drink it or she does. I don’t care.”

  Their gaze met. Ryan’s eyes were listless and dead. Maria’s were filled with intensity.

  “Give it to me, Ryan. The bottle is mine.” Maria took a step closer.

  The guard held out his palm and shook his finger. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Come no closer unless I say so.”

  Ryan looked down at the bottle.

  “Ryan. Give it to me, now. That’s an order.”

  Her comrade … no … her friend, unscrewed the plastic lid and raised it to his lips.

  “Drink every drop. Don’t stop.” The guard cocked his head to one side and laughed. The same, gutless laugh most of the guards used. They were so predictable.

  Ryan swallowed the liquid. Again and again until the bottle was empty.

  The coughing began immediately. Ryan raised his fist and pounded at his chest. “I’m burning,” he gasped.

  Maria took another step forward. She had to. She must do something.

  The guard turned on her. “I told you not to move.” He called out in a loud voice, “Baradar!”

  Another man entered who had been waiting near the door in the hallway by Maria’s cell.

  “Beat this woman,” said the guard to the newcomer “until she either begs for help or faints. I don’t care which.”

  All the while, Ryan beat his chest and convulsed. Face red, mouth screwed up in horror. For the first time since he’d walked into Maria’s cell she saw emotion in Ryan’s eyes—desperation.

  The first guard grabbed under Ryan’s arm and began to drag him from the room.

  A dark haze filled the air, and Maria felt her world spinning.

  Ryan, merely a shadow now, turned around and with a voice that permeated the room said, “I’m alive, Maria, I’m alive. Help me.”

  As Maria awoke from the dream with a start, her right arm tingled
from the lack of blood flow from her awkward side sleeping position. Despite the numbness, she grabbed her cell phone, and breathing heavily, pulled up the number for her closest friend still at the CIA. She typed a text message.

  Doug, is there any chance Ryan Anderson is still alive in Tehran, regardless how improbable? –Maria B.

  “Okay, people, Steven Veil will be here in just a few minutes.” Agent Carter addressed Maria and Floyd. “Your job is not to question him, that’s up to me. You two are here to be flies on the wall. Look for reactions, nuances in what Veil says, that sort of thing. Got it?”

  Maria and Floyd both said “yes” and Agent Carter continued. “From research we have, Veil is eighty-two years old. He hid the treasure when he was seventy-four. He’s a bit of an eccentric firecracker from what we gather, and he has adamantly refused to tell anyone where the treasure was hidden for eight years. My job is to break his code of silence. I want to know the location described in the riddle so I can make sure Justin’s kidnapper isn’t hiding him there, though it’s highly improbable.”

  “Why did Veil write the riddle in the first place?” asked Maria. “What was his goal? To cause problems?”

  “According to the information gathered,” said Carter, “his wife left him twenty years ago. I’m sure he wasn’t the easiest man to be married to. His only child died overseas. Veil decided since he didn’t have any family to leave the money to, he’d make a game out of it. The man had always been obsessed with treasure hunting and that sort of thing. Not that that is a great explanation for hiding his life savings in a chest somewhere. I still think he’s got to be on the crazy side.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” said Agent Carter.

  An elderly gentleman accompanied by a middle-aged man shuffled into the room. Steven Veil’s stooped frame was dressed in wrinkled khakis and a long-sleeved, button-up shirt. He raised his head to peer at the group through the top portion of his bi-focal glasses. Lifting his hand, he waved like a beauty queen in a parade. “Hello.” He was the ultimate geriatric version of Mr. Rogers—a show Maria had loved as a child.

  Veil’s companion was taller, a little less rumpled looking, and had partially graying hair with mounds of developing wrinkles. He addressed the group without a wave, but instead kept his grip underneath Veil’s armpit as they made their way to the two open chairs at the table. As they walked he said, “I’m Nathan Porter, Steven’s personal assistant, and I help Steven with his affairs.”

  “And I’m Agent Carter. Floyd Hoyt, an FBI analyst, is also joining us as, well as Maria Branson, the police chief of Kanab.”

  Once the men settled in their chairs, Agent Carter got right down to business. “Steven, you’ve been very hard to contact, but we kept trying because we have some important questions we need answers to. We think you might know some of those answers. I understand each of you have signed the documents acknowledging you are aware we’re recording this conversation?”

  Both men nodded.

  Agent Carter continued, “And that everything you say may be used in a trial of law? We are clear in this matter?”

  “We are clear,” said Steven, who fidgeted in his chair, trying to scoot it in closer to the table.

  Agent Carter pushed a piece of paper with the Veil riddle typed onto it in front of Steven. “Do you recognize this?”

  Steven glanced down and said, “Sure do.”

  “And?” Agent Carter waited for Steven to continue.

  “And what?” Steven asked.

  “Well, what is it?”

  “What you seek is in a bottle of fun,” began Steven, “with one player miss—”

  “No, no. I know what it says. What I’m asking is why did you write this riddle?”

  “Why write a riddle? For the fun of it.” Steven’s face registered a look that said, “Ask a stupid question, and get a stupid answer.”

  “You never had any intentions to use it as a part of the kidnapping?”

  “Heavens no.”

  “You can’t actually believe Steven has anything to do with the kidnapping of the young boy?” asked Nathan. “He wrote the riddle years ago—even before he hid the treasure. People have been looking for it a long time. We have absolutely no idea why the Veil riddle was brought into this horrible situation.”

  Steven Veil shook his head. “Horrible.”

  “And you have received no indication that your riddle has ever been solved by anyone?”

  “None whatsoever,” answered Nathan.

  “And you, Steven?” Agent Carter stared down at the old man.

  “None at all.”

  “Do you believe there is any possibility, even remotely, that someone found the treasure and is now using that hiding spot to hold a young boy captive?”

  Steven shook his head. “No one has found the treasure.”

  “Okay.” Agent Carter cleared his throat. “I’m going to stop beating around the bush. I want you to tell me where the treasure is located. The FBI can go there ourselves and check. We will keep your secret from the media.”

  “Absolutely no media,” Steven’s face grew concerned.

  “I promise. No media. Where is the treasure, Steven?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  In a stronger voice than he had been using, Agent Carter said, “Don’t mess around with the FBI. You need to give us the exact location of the treasure.”

  “I can’t do that,” said Steven, his mouth set in defiance. For an old geezer, he had a backbone.

  “Sir,” said Nathan Porter, the assistant. “we’ve checked our rights on this issue and Steven knows he doesn’t have to divulge the location to you—at least not without an awful lot of paperwork that hasn’t been done and a trial. The riddle is literally the culmination of Steven’s life. We are absolutely sure no one has found the treasure. The boy isn’t being kept there. We are not trying to obstruct this kidnapping investigation. We want to be as helpful as we can.”

  “You say that but you won’t tell me the location of the treasure even though it’s implicated in the kidnapping of a young boy. And you say you’re being helpful?”

  It was all Maria could do to keep her mouth shut.

  Mr. Porter cleared his throat. “We came directly to Kanab as soon as we got word you were looking for us. We can tell you that no one has found the treasure. Steven knows it for a fact.”

  “How?” questioned Agent Carter. “How do you know that?”

  The assistant looked at Steven with his eyebrows raised as if asking Steven what he should or shouldn’t say. The two exchanged a look and Mr. Porter continued, “Along with the treasure is an electronic device. We can’t tell you what kind or how it works, only that Steven paid quite a bit of money to have it made. That device tells Steven if the treasure has been moved. During the last eight years, the signal has stayed strong. No one has moved the treasure.”

  “Can you prove this to me?” asked Agent Carter.

  “Yes, but only if a judge forces us to do so, and again, that will take time. You’ll have to take our word for it. The treasure is untouched. No one has been in the area. The boy is not being hidden there.”

  “So you must know where the treasure is?” Agent Carter asked Mr. Porter.

  “No, but I know where the electronic signal comes from, though I’m not sure of the technology behind it. But I have been sworn to secrecy even over divulging the location of the signal.”

  Agent Carter slapped the table loudly, making everyone jump. “Stop this nonsense. Just give me the location of the treasure.”

  Steven Veil glared at the FBI agent and clamped his lips shut. Nathan shook his head. “No.”

  “Listen, we’ve started the paperwork. You will eventually have to reveal the location to us. Let’s avoid the headache and stop messing around. Give me the location, now!”

  Steven clenched his fists and turned his head, refusing to look at the FBI agent. “Absolutely not.”

  Nathan continued
to recite Veil’s legal rights in the matter. Banter went back-and-forth, on and on, until Maria was literally shaking. “We already know the treasure is in Jarbidge, Nevada,” she blurted out. “Give us the specific details and we’ll let you out of here.”

  Maria had hoped for more of a reaction between the two men. As it was, Nathan’s eyes slightly widened—perhaps merely surprised at the fact that she’d spoken. Steven Veil remained as poker-faced as ever.

  Agent Carter, however, did turn and glare at her, annoyed with her interruption.

  “We hold firm to our rights in this matter.” Nathan set his jaw and began to scoot his chair out. “As I said, we can guarantee the treasure hasn’t been found. Now, that doesn’t mean some crackpot out there hasn’t decided he thinks he knows where the treasure is and has hidden Justin there. That is where I would focus my efforts if I were you.”

  Agent Carter grunted. “Of course we’ve been looking into that possibility as well. But there are quite a few chat boards that discuss the riddle. We’ve been trying to locate those individuals who seem the most unstable and likely to commit a crime like kidnapping. But it would be more helpful if you would tell us where the riddle points to.”

  Nathan had stood up and was gently helping Steven from his chair. “Then we’ll see you in court.”

  Steven Veil didn’t say a word as he left the room, but shuffled defiantly out the door.

  After the two men had left, Agent Carter turned to Maria. “You were supposed to keep quiet.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t take it.”

  “No matter.” Agent Carter typed a text into his phone. “I’ve just requested a subpoena to have Mr. Veil appear in court to reveal the location of the treasure.”

  “And how long will that take?” asked Maria.

  “A couple weeks.”

  “But,” she began. Her voice then faltered.

  Justin did not have a couple of weeks. He didn’t even have a couple of days.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The search for this hidden treasure has become a hobby for some, an obsession for others, and for one recent searcher — a fatal pursuit.