Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Page 20

“You sent that bag to Rod? I thought Brian did.”

  “No, that’s not Brian’s thing. He’s not really all that aware of—”

  Maria tuned her out. Thoughts flew at her, faster and faster. The reason for Amy having an affair with such a loser—to get close to Rod without anyone expecting. She had access to his things. She could infect him with the bacteria so easily. And the woman in the photo? Could it have been Amy, not Melissa. The body shape matched Amy’s as well.

  But why?

  Why?

  Why?

  Why?

  “—I shouldn’t be so hard on Brian,” continued Amy. “I mean, he does help out some. Now that I think about it, he did help me gather a few of Rod’s things that morning.” A pause. “And he’s great to call housekeeping if he leaves the pool room a mess after a night of drinking with his friends.”

  The two women entered Rod’s room together. Maria instantly saw the green and white bottle of contact solution on top of the dresser Rod used. The lone toiletry left in the room.

  Don’t look at it. Keep your cool.

  Maria walked to the closet. “I’ll double check the pockets on his jeans in case the insurance card happens to be there.”

  “That would be odd, wouldn’t it though?” Amy went to the bed and straightened the Ralph Polo bedcover. “Had he been to the doctor lately? Why wouldn’t he have kept the card in his—”

  Without formulating a plan or an analysis of costs versus benefits, Maria blurted out, “I’ll come clean. I’m actually looking for a handwriting sample. I’m close to breaking the case—some big clues have turned up.”

  It went against her training—but not her instinct. Someone had taken Rod the wrong contact solution. Someone was killing her boyfriend, slowly, meticulously, right underneath the doctors’ noses.

  Was it Amy?

  Was she the woman with Dakota in the photo?

  If so, why had she infected Rod six years later?

  Amy quit her mindless tidying and stared at Maria. “What kind of clues? Why do you need his handwriting? This is all so … exciting.”

  “I can’t tell you much more, but I do have to go back one more time to the crime scene in the Superstitions. I think the police overlooked one of the biggest clues. At the time, I hadn’t realized the significance of it, but looking back, what’s there will most likely point me to the person who’s framing Rod for Dakota’s murder.”

  It was hard to read Amy. She seemed well-trained at keeping a poker face.

  But then again, so was Maria.

  “So there’s something else with handwriting on it? Is it that kind of clue?” Amy questioned.

  “I can’t say too much right now. But we’re pretty sure the crime scene was faked.”

  “Really?” Amy was intrigued, or at least acted that way. “So do you think it’s not even Dakota’s skeleton?”

  “Again, it’s too early to discuss the details.” Maria looked directly into Amy’s face. “But I’m sure by later this afternoon I’ll know a lot more.” She hurriedly went through Rod’s pocket and, serendipitously, found an old, washed “to do” list in the back of one of Rod’s pair of jeans. “I got something.” She flashed Amy a brief look of the tattered paper to make the whole situation real, which, of course, it wasn’t.

  There was no clue at the crime scene. Maria wasn’t hot on the trail of the killer. She was lukewarm at best. And she didn’t need Rod’s handwriting. If she had, she could have used the notes she kept in her wallet that he’d sent her last month. Every day for an entire week he’d mailed her a note. Each only had one word on it—a quality he admired about her: curious, ticklish, decisive, intelligent, strong, breathtaking, and loyal.

  What Maria did have was a hunch and the makings of a trap—a way to find out if Amy would be worried, possibly even frightened by what Maria had revealed to her—that the crime scene was suspected to be fake. Would knowing that inspire Amy to follow Maria into the Superstitions and prevent her from finding the supposed “clue” that had been overlooked?

  A trap was the quickest, easiest way to find out.

  Handling Rod’s old “to do” list with care, Maria asked Amy if she could have a small plastic bag to put it in.

  “Sure. I’ll run downstairs and get you one.”

  “Thanks,” said Maria, “I’ll grab a few things from my room and be on my way. I’m leaving straight for the Superstitions from here. I won’t be back until this evening.”

  Amy headed off downstairs as Maria thought about what she had done. Another trip to the Superstitions meant another six hours gone. What if Rod’s condition worsened? Would she regret not being close to the hospital?

  The image of her sitting in a sterile, antiseptic-scented hallway while letting a criminal run free was nauseating. No, this was better. Grant and Beth were with Rod. They could do anything she could do, and they would probably do it better. She’d probably tick the doctors off and cause trouble.

  A trip to the Superstitions to trap Amy, however, would be useful. Once she caught Amy, she’d drag out of her what kind of bacteria she used to infect Rod and what the antidote was. A wave of satisfaction swept around Maria. When she’d woken up this morning, there had been absolutely no progress on the case. But now, after the contact solution clue and the admission of Amy that she was the one who had gathered most of the toiletries for Rod, Maria had so much more to go on. Who knew, by later this evening maybe she’d have a suspect in custody.

  True, Amy’s motive wasn’t clear. But with a little more research into her background, something would turn up. Secrets weren’t that secret anymore. Not in the age of the internet. And, of course, it could be that Amy was working with someone else, but that would all come to light as well.

  Maria had baited her hook and cast it far.

  It was time for Amy to bite so Maria could reel her in. Slowly. Carefully. Strategically.

  Amy was, after all, a very, very, big fish.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  [During the time of the eradication of the Apaches] Walz continued to make solitary trips to his secret mine. Rumors floated—all unproven—that he killed several men who tried to follow him. He came out of the mountains for the last time in 1884, carrying only two small sacks of gold which sold for a mere $50. The Dutchman was 74 years old now.

  —“Mysteries & Miracles of Arizona” by Jack Kutz. Rhombus Publishing Company, 1992, page 27.

  BY THE TIME MARIA got back downstairs, Amy had put together some snacks for her drive to the Superstitions. She handed them to Maria with a hesitant, “here you go.”

  “Thanks.” Maria looked into the bag. The woman hadn’t put together a few things. She’d gone all out and used Brian’s cookies from Belgium, his wildebeest jerky from Brazil, and his special water from some exotic place. “Wow, this all looks very … expensive.”

  With a seemingly newfound confidence, Amy said, “It is, and I hope you enjoy every last over-priced item.”

  “Thanks. Uh … be sure to thank Brian as well.”

  In a tone thick with sarcasm, Amy replied, “Will do.”

  ***

  Exhausted, Maria pulled into the parking lot of the ranger station at the Superstitions. She had ignored the “Don’t drive drowsy” signs and pushed through. No sleep. No exercise. And eating all the wrong kinds of food was not doing wonders for her energy levels. She felt as spent as the old-fashioned ranger’s station built back in the 70s.

  Inside, Ranger Ferlund was straightening a circular rack of postcards. The noise from the opening door caused the man to look up. His dark brown eyes studied Maria a moment. “Hello. Ms. Branson.” He stood up straight—at least as straight as his hunched shoulders let him.

  “Ranger Ferlund.” Maria nodded she considered the best approach to take with the spindly man. This scheme of hers called for a side kick, and he was unknowingly going to be it. “Good day at the park?”

  The ranger had moved to straighten the maps and guidebooks on display. “So far so goo
d. Anything going on with you?” He eyed her with suspicion.

  “I thought I’d take another look at the crime scene. I’m supposed to meet my friend here, but she texted to tell me she’s running late. Could you do me a favor?”

  Ranger Ferlund’s face scrunched into a shriveled raisin. “If I can. I’m a government servant and have promised to uphold the law. So nothing prohibited.”

  Maria pushed back a laugh. “No, no. Nothing like that. I hoped you’d keep an eye out for my friend’s car. When you see her drive into the station, even if she doesn’t come inside, could you text me? I’ll stay within service so I can watch for her along the trail.”

  The ranger’s face relaxed. “I suppose I can do that. What kind of car does she drive?”

  Maria’s phone rang. It was Derrick. “Hang on,” Maria told the ranger. “I need to grab this.” She turned around and headed to the furthest corner of the room for privacy. Derrick may have an earful for her. “Hello?”

  “Maria?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m calling in behalf of the Materfamilias. She would like the other pictures that were in the envelope you … borrowed. They are important to the Keepers but of little value to anyone else.”

  “You’re not much into small talk, are you Derrick?”

  “No, and especially not when you’re about to go into the Superstitions, once again, with no protection.”

  “How did you know that?”

  An exasperated sigh. “I just do.”

  “Fine. Will you be sure to tell your excitable friend with the bow and arrow to stay as far away from me as he can? I don’t need a repeat of the other day’s adventure.”

  “Clint’s not in town. You should be safe from arrows. But we need the pictures—I would hate for something to happen to you, especially before you’re able to return what is ours.”

  A threat?

  Possibly.

  Or perhaps it was Derrick not knowing, or caring, how to say “stay safe” in a socially acceptable way.

  “How about none of your people try to deter me with deadly weapons, and when I get back to Phoenix I’ll get you the photos. All of them. You can then add them to the one you stole two nights ago at Rep. Lankin’s house of Dakota and the mystery woman.”

  “I didn’t steal that photo.”

  “Oh no? Who else would have wanted it?”

  “That,” said Derrick in the condescending tone Maria was getting used to, “is exactly what Materfamilias wants to know. You’ll get me the other photos ASAP?”

  “Yes.” Maria turned back around to find the ranger again. “Bye.”

  But Derrick had already hung up.

  Maria kept her phone in her hand and walked toward the front the desk. She clicked into her camera app. “Ranger Ferlund, here is a picture of my friend’s car. I really appreciate you keeping an eye out for me.”

  He nodded. “Watch yourself. It’s hot this afternoon. Cell service dies about a two miles from the station, give or take some. We have a booster here, but if you go too far in you won’t have a signal.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be careful.”

  Maria was about to slide her phone back into her backpack, when her text alert chimed. Maria looked at the screen.

  We need to talk. We should be working together for Rod’s case. Not against each other. Call me when you get back from the Superstitions.

  The message was from Melissa.

  How did you know I was in the Superstitions? Maria texted back.

  It took a full minute to get Melissa’s reply.

  Rep. Lankin. Tom called him. Derrick called Tom.

  Pity sakes! So much for being stealthy.

  Okay. Don’t tell anyone else where I am, please. I’ll explain later.

  As long as Amy didn’t know that everyone else knew Maria was going into the Superstitions, her trap was still a go.

  Be safe. Melissa wrote.

  The phone went back into the side pocket of Maria’s backpack and she headed back outside. The hot air clung to her skin. The afternoon sun in all its glory. This was not the right time of day to be out in the black lava rock that glistened like hot tar.

  Maria ignored the sweat beading on her forehead. She wouldn’t be outside for long. Her plan was to hike only a mile of the way to the crime scene and then find a place to hide with a good vantage point. If Amy was guilty of planting Dakota’s skeleton in the mountains, she would come to find Maria. But Maria would see her first. She would have the upper hand.

  Maria hoisted her backpack higher on her shoulders and started the hike, all the while listening for the text alert from Ranger Ferlund.

  ***

  For the first part of the hike, Maria wove between the large saguaro cacti scattered across the hazardous landscape, their inhospitable spikes a warning to stay clear or suffer the consequences. Soon she descended into a wind-tortured canyon. On occasion a red velvet ant buzzed past her exposed calves, and a shudder would pass through her; her own bites were barely healed.

  On her own, full of anxiety about what the confrontation with Amy would be like and what the results of the lab would be, the canyon held none of the tempting whispers of gold that called to so many of the treasure hunters who roamed the hills. To Maria, it seemed like a vast expanse of desolation. What had Dakota felt, spending her last breathing moments on earth in this forsaken desert?

  Maria checked her cell phone and was dismayed to see a “no signal” at the top of the screen. She needed to get to higher ground. The canyon walls were obstructing her from getting texts. Hopefully Ranger Ferlund hadn’t sent any.

  The easiest way out of the canyon was half a mile ahead. Maria scanned the rugged black spires that jutted from the earth like enormous stalagmites in a cave which eventually peaked and leveled off. They were impressive, though the darkness of the Superstitions was nothing like the vibrant color of the Red Rock Canyons in Kanab.

  Maria peered upward; the sun’s glare was relentless. Doing her best to block the blinding light, she spied a grouping of spires adjacent to a cliff wall that seemed not very high. Thirty feet max. At the top was a flat plateau that butted up to a series of rocks with a gentle slope—it would be a steady climb out of the canyon from that point.

  Without any climbing equipment, it wasn’t perhaps the safest choice, but it was definitely the quickest. And so much was riding on her getting cell service. A small risky climb seemed insignificant compared to what Rod’s mind and body was going through.

  A dash to the bottom of the precipice revealed what Maria considered an easy ascent. The first part of the climb was simply a matter of bracing her hands and feet apart up a half circular narrow well—similar to what she’d done at the bottom of the slot canyon while rescuing Josh at the Cracks. Fifteen feet up, one of the sides of the well had eroded enough to force Maria to push off, her hands and feet quickly finding purchase on one side. Instinctively, she combed the wall for the most optimal foot and hand holds, finding numerous options in the jagged stone.

  Maria pressed her body close to the rough surface and scooted upward without difficulty. The higher she got, however, the more she began to notice a swirling haze around her—an odd heaviness to the air. It was if she were in the middle of a polluted, crowded city, not the in the middle of the pristine Arizona desert.

  Was she imagining things? Had Rod’s delusions spread to her? Was she getting sick?

  She felt fine. No fever. No excess sweating. This must be another one of her mind’s pathetic attempts to remind her of fear. Of anxiety.

  Maria was going to show her mind who was boss. She found another hold and pulled herself up a half foot. She was making great progress. Yet, despite her attempts to shake off the impression, the air seemed to be getting thicker and thicker. She closed her mouth and began only breathing through her nose. It didn’t help, in fact it made her feel all the more suffocated.

  Climb faster. At the top surely this pocket of sludge would dissipate.

  Toe hold.
Hand hold. Toe hold. Hand hold. She methodically made her way up, always keeping three of her four limbs secure.

  The top of the cliff had a nicely eroded edge, making it easy for Maria to hoist herself upward and onto the solid ground of the plateau. She took a deep breath and was disappointed when the air up there felt no better than along the cliff wall. Turning to the left she gasped, stepped backward, and nearly fell off the cliff.

  A figure stood thirty feet away. The person’s back was to Maria and her heart began to pound. Had Amy somehow beaten her here? How had she possibly done that?

  Maria reached for her gun, her hand posed and ready, until she realized the figure had an opaqueness around her curvy outlines.

  It wasn’t Amy, unless the woman had recently died and transformed into a ghost.

  The figure turned, and Maria let out sigh, moving quickly away from the ledge she’d almost tumbled over. Dakota stood before her, with the smooth skin, sparkling eyes, and blank expression Maria was getting adept at recognizing.

  “Hi, Dakota.” Maria waved. No reason for her to be rude even though she had been Rod’s ex. “Glad you could join me.”

  Maria expected no response. Dakota still seemed rather confused about her whole ghost-like state. Maria chalked it up to her being a newbie. Maybe ghost years were like dog years only opposite. They aged more slowly instead of faster.

  Maria slipped her backpack off one shoulder and was about to check her phone for service, when something caught her eye directly behind Dakota. It was a five-foot tall crag in the rock, wide enough for a person to slip inside. But it wasn’t the size of the hole that was intriguing—it was the yellow light coming from inside it.

  Maria’s gaze was drawn to it, but even more disturbing was the way it pulled at her whole body. She’d watched her fair share of Star Trek reruns as a kid. The mental and physical force she felt emanating from the pulsing yellow beacon was what she’d imagined it would feel like to be caught in an alien’s space ship’s tractor beam. It was a force calling to her against her will.

  Dakota had planted herself firmly in front of the glowing opening, feet spread apart and arms out wide. It was almost as if—