Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Read online

  “You okay, buddy?” asked Tom, glancing around the table, seeing if anyone else knew what was going on.

  Rod’s breathing was fast and frantic.

  Panic. Maria knew the rhythm.

  “Rod?” She calmly stood up next to him.

  Rod’s eyes had a wild, Tarzan look about them. It almost scared Maria … except that tense situations like these always made her feel alive and, oddly, quite collected.

  “Come back!” Rod yelled at the window again. He threw the napkin he’d been holding onto the floor and bolted from the table. He shot out the front door of the restaurant and into the street.

  Maria was five paces behind him.

  Tom was five paces behind her.

  Everyone else sat frozen at the table, wide-eyed with gaping mouths.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In 1748, Spanish King Ferdinand VI gave 3,750 square miles of what is now Arizona to a Mexican cattle-baron, Don Miguel Peralta of Sonora. The area contained several silver mines as well as a fabulous gold mine in Arizona. Over the next one hundred years, the Peralta heirs made only a few sporadic trips from their home in Mexico. They had a great respect for the Apache war parties and dared not press their luck. Gradually anyone in the Peralta family with direct knowledge on how to get to the mine died.

  —“The Dutchman’s Lost Gold Mine,” by Lee Paul. (Online)

  THE AIR CONDITIONER IN the truck was on “high” even though it was well past sunset. The temperature outside still hadn’t dropped below 80 degrees. A typical September night in Phoenix.

  “I swear I saw her.” Rod’s hands shook. “She even looked right at me. Our eyes met!”

  Maria rubbed the back of Rod’s neck. A gesture that she thought would help him relax. It wasn’t working.

  “At first I didn’t recognize her. She was walking past the restaurant window and then stopped. She turned, and it was her. It was my wife. I couldn’t believe it. Dakota was outside the restaurant looking at me. After all these years!”

  “You mean your ex-wife?” The words escaped Maria’s mouth before her mind had a chance to edit them. It perhaps wasn’t the most compassionate of things to say.

  “Right. Whatever. The woman who totally screwed up my life. She was there.”

  Maria’s hand dropped to her lap, and she studied it like she was a dermatologist looking for cancerous freckles. If only life was that easy. If only it took a blast of frozen nitrogen to eradicate the cancers of the soul.

  Rod was hurting. That much was clear. Whether or not she was the right person to give him comfort was completely uncertain. She had too many of her own issues. She almost felt like finding the contact number for Dr. Roberts, pressing “call,” and handing the phone to Rod.

  Would that really be as lame as it sounded?

  Yes. Yes, it would be.

  “How are you sure it was her?” Maria asked. “It’s been more than six years. People change a lot in that much time. I know most people from six years ago would hardly even recognize me anymore.”

  Rod glanced up at her. For the first time since his nuclear explosion in the restaurant he looked almost like himself. “Maria, no one would ever not recognize you. People don’t forget beauty like yours.”

  Tingles ran up her arms.

  “And Dakota’s the same way. You don’t forget that face.” Rod pressed his lips together.

  Maria’s arms immediately went back to normal.

  In agitation, Rod ran his fingers through his short hair.

  “Well,” she paused. “I’m pretty good at finding people. I’d be happy to spend some time digging around. I could call in a few favors from some old friends in the CIA. But I don’t even know what Dakota looks like. Can you give me something more to go on?”

  Rod turned back to look at her. “You would do that for me? Research Dakota?”

  “Sure. I’ll stay in Phoenix while you and your friends do your hike in the Superstitious Mountains and look for the Dutchman’s goldmine. Personally, after the whole Freddie Crystal mess in Kanab, I’m way over looking for lost treasure.”

  “It’s the Superstition Mountains, and that would be really cool if you could find something out about Dakota. I’m not really in the mood for hiking so much anymore, but I’d better go after they went to all the trouble of planning it.”

  The air in the cab of the truck was feeling less thick and stuffy. Either the temperature outside had finally dropped, or things between Rod and Maria were getting back to normal.

  Rod was scrolling through the photos on his phone. “I’m sending you a picture of her, and I’ll get you any other information I have. It’s embarrassing, but I don’t know a lot. We only knew each other for a few months. Total. I never even met her family. She said they were all still living in Mexico.”

  “Well, that’s somewhere to begin.” Maria’s text alert on her phone chimed. She tapped the message and up came a picture of Rod standing next to a gorgeous dark-haired woman.

  The picture had been scanned, and it wasn’t the best quality. But it was good enough to tell that Dakota turned heads. A rubbernecking magnet.

  Something about the picture was eating at Maria. She stared at the image a few more seconds and then gasped. “Rod,” she said slowly, “you’re sure you saw this woman outside the restaurant last night?”

  “Yes.” Rod nodded. “That’s Dakota.”

  “Because,” continued Maria, “I saw her in Kanab. She was out by the Cracks the day we saved Josh.”

  Rod looked confused. “What? I’m sure I would have noticed her if she’d been—”

  “She was a ghost.” Maria said it bluntly. Rod was the only person, besides Dr. Roberts, who knew Maria saw ghosts.

  “She was? H-how could you tell?” Rod’s eyes were the size of full moons.

  “She had the same fuzzy halo around her as Acalan always had. At first I didn’t notice it. She was standing behind you when I got off the cliff with Josh. But the closer I got to you, the more I could tell. It was kinda … weird.”

  That was the understatement of the century—Rod’s former wife, coming back as a ghost, standing behind him as he, along with his new girlfriend, saved a teen about to die by falling off a cliff.

  Yeah, that definitely qualified as weird.

  “So if you saw her as a ghost, then …” Rod began.

  Maria interrupted him, nodding her head. “Yep. That means you must be seeing ghosts too.”

  “… then,” Rod hardly missed a beat, “Dakota really is … dead?”

  And that, Maria decided, is why she would never win an award for the person with the most tact. Or any tact for that matter. “Oh.” A pause. “I … guess so. I’m … I’m sorry.”

  Rod’s face paled, his eyes distant. At last he whispered to no one in particular, “At least I know.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the 1840s Don Miguel Peralta [a descendant of the original Don Peralta] led an expedition into the Superstitions. Peralta must have felt extremely lucky to find traces of placer gold almost right away. Over the years, [the younger] Peralta established at least eight gold mines in the Superstitions. Although these rather small-scale operations were yielding reasonable profits, they were high-risk enterprises. The nomadic Apaches believed they and they alone owned all the land they rode across. Anyone who thought otherwise was in for trouble.

  —“Mysteries & Miracles of Arizona” by Jack Kutz. Rhombus Publishing Company, 1992, page 19.

  THE ONLY PLACE MARIA had ever visited that even compared to the stifling heat of her cell in Tehran was the Superstition Mountains.

  It was that ridiculously hot.

  And barren.

  The only sign of human life anywhere to be seen was the group of former ASU law students, their professor, Maria, and Clyde (Rod’s German shepherd now owned by Derrick).

  Maria had accompanied Rod once they realized it was Dakota’s ghost Rod and seen. If she was dead, there was no reason for Maria to stay behind and try to find her.

/>   However, Maria was the only non ASU grad in the group. None of the spouses came, which was fine with Maria as that gave her fewer people she had to keep track of. As it was, she already had made nicknames to remind her who everyone was.

  Earlier that morning Derrick (alias Paul Bunyan, the know-it-all outdoorsman) had explained to Maria that nearly two hundred years ago the Pima Indians had their own name for the jutting spires and ragged canyons in which they were hiking. The Pima called it the “The Crooked Top Mountains.” The stories they told about the place always included odd sounds, strange sights and mysterious deaths. They thought it was bad luck to travel through and stayed away from it as much as they could.

  “But not the serious treasure hunter,” Derrick had added. “We can’t seem to stay away.”

  Now, hiking through the craggy, volcanic rock felt like exploring a different planet to Maria. The tall, eroded spires of black rock looked like malformed aliens. Ten-feet tall saguaro cacti seemed to mock the hikers, waving their outstretched needled arms, tempting the unaware to get caught in their sharp grasp. The only thing that could survive in a place like this had to sting, bite, or eat whatever was in its path. Maria already had several welts on her arm from unfamiliar insects.

  In the front of the trail was Rep. Lankin (alias Chevy Chase) and Tom (sultry Denzel Washington). They were deep in a conversation about the tax loopholes for small businesses. Next in line was Melissa (definitely the Perry Mason—female version), who was pumping Rod for information about his law practice in Kanab.

  As they climbed, Maria thought of a bunch of other places she’d rather spend her vacation weekend with Rod. However Clyde seemed to be in dog heaven in the Superstitions. He bounded and barked, climbed and crawled through every crevice, nook, and cranny.

  “Over here, boy,” called Rod, slapping his thigh. Rod looked particularly outdoorsy in his tan, nylon hiking pants. He’d zipped off the bottom portion of the pant legs, revealing muscular calf muscles, which Maria glanced at every so often as he scaled up the rock face.

  Clyde followed Rod’s command and positioned himself in front of his previous owner. It was intriguing for Maria to watch how conflicted the dog was between its two masters—Rod and Derrick.

  All day long Clyde had scampered around Derrick, getting underfoot and nearly tripping him as he traversed up the rocky ridges. Next, with tail wagging, Clyde would bound back to Rod, jump up and yelp, dodging in between his legs.

  “That dog is driving me crazy,” muttered Brian (party boy Ferris Bueller). Brian was the bad attitude of the group. All morning he’d claimed his allergies were acting up (despite the fact he hadn’t sneezed once). But after popping four or five pills, his casual demeanor had returned.

  Maria hoped it was Xanax he was using instead of something stronger. She reminded herself it wasn’t her job to police these people. She was on vacation.

  “If your dumb dog still likes you better than Derrick, it should hang with you while it has the chance.” Brian flipped his long bangs out of his eyes.

  “He doesn’t want to be with me. He’s trying to remember who I am. I’m a novelty,” said Rod, who got a little embarrassed anytime Clyde chose him over Derrick.

  “Not true,” said Derrick, who wiped his sweaty forehead on his shirt sleeve. “He worships you. Always has. Didn’t he climb up the roof of the Academy of Sciences building to get your backpack?”

  “He did.” Rod leaned down and scratched Clyde’s belly. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you Clyde?”

  “Yeah,” agreed Melissa, who had stopped climbing for a minute to take a drink of water, “that dog would do anything for you.”

  Melissa continued to talk in between sips of water, “If I remember right, that dog even went to class with you a couple of times until administration figured out he wasn’t a true service animal.”

  Rod laughed. Reliving the “good old days” with his friends had brought his spirits up. Despite the 110 degree weather, Maria was glad they were there. Seeing Dakota’s ghost had messed with Rod’s psyche. Maria knew how that felt, and she was glad he had this time outdoors to take his mind off of it.

  As if Clyde somehow knew that the humans were talking about him, he let out a howl to rival that of any wild animal.

  “Seriously,” grumbled Brian. “What’s his problem?”

  Before Brian had even finished his question, Derrick had removed a small hatchet from his pack. Large drops of sweat rolled from his temples onto his cheeks. “Nobody move.”

  The group fell immediately silent. Even Brian had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

  “What’s going on, Derrick?” asked Melissa, cool and collected. In some ways, she reminded Maria of herself.

  “That’s Clyde’s warning. He doesn’t howl like that for nothing.” Derrick eyes methodically scanned the ground. Maria joined in the search for what was upsetting the dog.

  Both she and Derrick must have seen the coiled reptile at the same moment because they said “rattlesnake” in unison.

  “Where?” asked Brian, who immediately started jumping up and down. Maria reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s by Tom’s left foot. Calm down.”

  Tom stood motionless. He looked down and grimaced. The snake was no more than five inches from his heel. “Wouldn’t you know it? I swear Mother Nature has it out for me.”

  Clyde let out another howl and posed for attack. “Down boy,” commanded Derrick. “Sit.”

  The dog followed orders just as the end of the snake’s tail began to shake, making the sound of a deadly tambourine.

  “So, I guess I’m supposed to just walk away slowly, right?” Tom licked his lips.

  “Yes. But keep it steady and smooth. Nothing jerky, okay?” said Maria.

  “Hold on,” said Derrick, closing his one eye as if he was sizing up the distance and angle at which he should aim his hatchet still in his hand. “I’ve got this. Don’t move.”

  Tom looked at the overgrown lumberjack. “What are young going to—”

  The hatchet whistled through the air, handle over blade.

  One.

  Two.

  Three spins and the hatchet’s sharp edge sliced through the snake’s neck, cleanly cutting its head off. The snake’s tail continued to rattle as blood oozed from the twitching headless body.

  “Well,” said Melissa, her voice back to business as usual. “That was exciting.”

  Tom leaped away from the once deadly snake while at the same time yelling, “Dude, what were you thinking? That could have been my foot you cut off!.”

  “No,” said Derrick, walking to retrieve his hatchet. “It couldn’t have been your foot unless I’d been aiming for it.”

  “A bit over confident, aren’t you?” scoffed Brian.

  Derrick shrugged. “I know what I’m capable of.”

  At that, Rep. Lankin cleared his throat and said, “I suggest we get going in case our snake has family nearby.”

  The group agreed and continued hiking deep into the chasms and canyons of the Superstitions until near dusk. Derrick and Rep. Lankin took turns being the group’s guide, with plenty of feedback from Brian; all three clearly felt the need to be in charge.

  “Let’s start looking for a place to set up camp,” Derrick suggested. “I’m hungry and getting ready to call it a day.”

  Two hours and full stomachs later, the group relaxed around a blazing fire. They were situated on the top of a lava plateau with the promise of a gorgeous view in the morning. They had told at least three stories a piece about the good old days, and Maria had learned quite a bit about the dynamics of the group. Everyone adored Rep. Lankin like a grandfather, but it was Melissa who really was the “parent” everyone respected. She was the one who had kept them all from getting expelled from ASU for their various pranks. If even half of what they had said that night was true, one would have thought they were recounting the antics from a group of high school seniors, not graduate students in law school.

&
nbsp; Like the nights in Kanab, the sky danced with brilliant stars, unfettered by modern electricity which polluted the sky with never-ending light from large cities. Maria scooted further down into her sleeping bag even though the air outside was relatively warm. Everyone in the group circled the campfire like the spokes of a wheel with their toes close to the flames and their heads the furthest away.

  Maria was grateful she and Rod weren’t the only ones sleeping outside. While normally she would have liked the time alone with him, things had felt slightly strained since seeing Dakota’s ghost.

  “So,” said Tom who was next to Maria in his own sleeping bag, “be honest, Maria. What were some of your past assignments? In the CIA, I mean.”

  It was questions like that which drove Maria crazy. How many times could she tell the same fabricated story of her being an analyst? However, the truth was too painful—and top secret. Rod knew the truth, but he was the only one. Her secret had been kept safe with the death of Sherrie Mercer, the Kanab newspaper reporter who had threatened to reveal all of Maria’s past—the botched mission to Tehran, her time in solitary confinement, and the way her team had all been executed except her. All things Maria buried deep inside her.

  “I already told you. I was an analyst,” Maria answered, “How about your dad?”

  “Analyst.” Tom used finger quotes and winked as he said it. Clearly he understood the term’s vague application.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t go into the CIA,” said Maria. “A lot of times it runs in families.”

  Tom looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Who says I’m not?”

  And he had a point. Maria knew better than anyone that CIA agents disguised themselves as all sorts of average, every day, boring people. “Rod told me you were an entrepreneur. Just going off of what I was told.”

  “I’m into a bit of everything.” Tom then whispered to Maria, soft enough so that Rod, who was on her other side, couldn’t hear, “Including attractive, mysterious women.”

  Gratefully, the usually quiet Derrick yawned incredibly loud and said to no one in particular, “Sure has been a blast from the past. Being all together like this again.”