Preservation

by Charles Lemoine

  PRESERVATION

  A Mariska Stevenson Thriller

  CHARLES LEMOINE

  Copyright © 2018 Charles Lemoine

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your respect and support of the author is appreciated.

  All characters, events, brands, companies, and locations in this story are used fictionally and without intent of slander. Any resemblance to actual people are purely coincidental.

  Cover art and formatting by Incredibook Design

  OTHER BOOKS BY CHARLES LEMOINE

  A Samantha Cambridge Murder Mystery

  MURDER AT A DISCOUNT

  A Cassidy Hudson Mystery

  THE CURE MAY KILL YOU

  A Mariska Stevenson Thriller

  PRESERVATION

  PRESERVATION

  An ancient mystery. A paleontologist searching for answers. A deadly web of lies.

  Dr. Mariska Stevenson has always felt a special connection to the ancient human remains found in the La Brea Tar Pits. Just like the source of her obsession, Mariska doesn’t know her own past or where she came from.

  When the remains are stolen, Mariska will risk it all in a dangerous game where people aren’t who they seem and dark truths put her very life on the line.

  Will Mariska succeed in discovering the truth about not only the remains but her own origins, or will the dark forces plotting against her ensure an ending that keeps the mysteries buried…forever?

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Acknowledgements

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Prologue

  Southern California ~12,000 BC during the Pleistocene Epoch

  The spear struck the tree, mere inches from her head. Bark splintered on impact, sending bits of wood flying into her eyes, blurring her vision. She rolled away from the weapon and ran for her life. Tears flowed but didn’t slow her progress. Deeper into the dark and dangerous wooded region she went, her tiny canine companion following close. She’d entered the forest, thinking it would offer more cover and places to hide than the vast expanses of land that met the morning sun, but the tracker found her anyway.

  She stole a glance back, but with all the shadows and dense vegetation, she couldn’t see him. Now, crashing through the trees and underbrush, she was sure to leave plenty of clues for a decent tracker to find, and he was the best one from the clan. Her only chance was to put as much distance between them so she could have enough time to hide or set up a trap of her own.

  Exhaustion was taking over; her legs felt heavy, and her lungs burned. Had she put enough distance between them? She’d been running for what seemed like forever, but had it been long enough? Her pace slowed, and she looked down for her little friend. His tongue hung thick and heavy from his mouth and drops of saliva fell to the forest floor with each rapid pant. He too was tired. Without warning, the toe of her bearskin shoe caught on a fallen limb, and she slammed to the ground with a thud. She scrambled on all fours, desperate to stand, desperate to keep running, but fatigue won out. She collapsed in a heap. Her little brown dog stopped too. Next to her head, he lay facing her. His hot breath came in rapid puffs, making her cough. His tongue gave her a loving kiss on the nose, and she sat up to better take in the surrounding area.

  She was now deep in the forest, further than she’d ever been. The thick canopy of trees filtered out much of the sunlight. Now a kaleidoscope of light and shadow swirled around her as the wind blew high above her head. The trees whined and sang a mournful song only they knew as they swayed and danced with the force of the gale. The clan often told stories about this place. It was rumored to harbor the Howler. The hairy-man who screamed at the moon and stole from their hunts. She reached into her shirt and pulled out the band that was around her neck. The tooth and square beads had been strung together by her mother’s people generations ago. It was a necklace of protection, from man, from the hairy-man whose teeth separated the beads of the stars. Her mother slipped it around her neck the night she escaped. Had her mother not risked her own life for her daughter, she’d have been sacrificed to the gods. An offering for the return of the mammoth, their main source of food.

  She shivered. Sweating from exertion, she was beginning to cool, and the ever-disappearing forest floor indicated it would soon be night. The creatures of the dark would then awaken to hunt, and she’d have more to fear than the murderous man who pursued her. With effort, she stood and surveyed the large tree next to her. It would be difficult, but if she could secure little Kada in the buffalo skin coat, she might be able to climb high enough to wait out the long period of darkness in safety.

  She bent low to pick up Kada when a cacophony of sound erupted from everywhere. A huge cloud of birds took to flight and screamed a sound of alarm. Had the tracker found them? On shaky legs, she ran for her life. Deeper into the woods she went, branches hitting her face, but not slowing her. A wall of rock lay in the quickly approaching distance. She looked at both sides for a way around. There wasn’t. She was going to have to climb. The first large boulder was no match for her. At a full sprint, she threw herself up and scrambled up the wall. Kada was right on her heels as he scampered around the side and up another way. Almost to the top, she stopped when a hand grabbed her by the leg.

  In a panic, she kicked and tried to pull herself free, her hands still clinging to the rocks above her. She stole a glance down; she couldn’t help it. The pounding in her chest continued, but when she saw it wasn’t the hunter, but her beloved from the village, a calmness settled over her. He had followed her. He was there to save her. She wasn’t alone, anymore.

  She grabbed him by the wrist and helped pull him up next to her. Hugging him tight, she pressed her forehead to his and breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived. Kada growled behind them from the top of the rock outcropping. They both turned, and she saw the danger. The hunter was coming, his spear up and ready to be thrown. Without a word, she stood and yanked
her love by the animal skins, pulling him with her as she fled. To the top of the high mountain of boulders they rushed, headlong and without caution for potential of falling. Rocks skittered down the mound below them as they went.

  It was barely but a moment and they were safely over the crest and starting down the other side. As they set foot on the ground, a sickening smell overcame her. She coughed, then gagged, before sucking in air between her teeth. The earth wasn’t hard here; it was mushy, sticky. Her feet felt stuck in place. With great effort, she pulled up one foot and then the other and moved further away. Tucking her nose and mouth under her animal skins, she looked back to her love for help. Only none came.

  The man she loved and trusted, looked at her with sadness in his eyes. Why wasn’t he running? The hunter cleared the top of the outcropping, and she grabbed for her lover’s hand to run with her, but he yanked it away. Tears in her eyes and out of breath, voice thick with emotion, she pleaded, “Hurry, my love. Come with me.” But he didn’t move. Looking back at the hunter, he signaled for him to throw and then turned away.

  He had chosen the clan over her.

  Without another moment of hesitation, she turned and ran for the dense forest on the other side of the clearing. Fear clouded her mind as the sense of betrayal tore her heart to pieces. Sobs wracked her body as her lungs began to burn for more air.

  Each passing step became harder than the last. She looked down at her feet, now submerged in a thick black liquid. She pulled up hard, but couldn’t budge her feet. Kada, near her, barked, his stressed vocals kicked her in the belly. A sickening omen. Kada jumped into her arms, knocking her backward. She sank into the soft, liquid ground, first her hips and then her arm as she tried to push up to stand. Through tears and ragged coughs, she struggled to breathe, struggled to stand, struggled to live. A rustle from the bushes drew her attention to the side. It was her lover. Standing near the edge of this terrible place she now found herself, a large rock poised over his head.

  She shook her head but didn’t beg for help. Didn’t beg for her life. Without warning, he threw the rock. An explosion of pain on the side of her head as she registered the breaking of her bones. A ringing in her ears didn’t completely drown out the snarls and then whimpers of her four-legged companion. She couldn’t save him or herself. Another crushing pain as a second rock smashed into her face. No longer able to raise her head, she craned her head to look at the man who betrayed her. The hair pulled from her scalp, and she cried out from the searing hot pain.

  They locked eyes in time for her to see the third large rock that he hurled. It connected with a thud, sending her into the vast darkness of her ancestors. No longer in pain. No longer running in terror. She was now a memory.

  Chapter One

  Mariska studied the bones. Skull and pelvis. Ribs and limbs. Ancient. Thousands of years old, the partial skeleton of a woman, meticulously preserved by the very thing that killed her. She noticed something inside the skull that didn’t belong—a foreign object, woven cloth. Her heart raced, but she swallowed her uncertainty. Where the hell had that come from? No, there’d be time—for all of it.

  Her gaze drifted over the swirls of brown and black that had seeped into the skeleton’s pores like smoke, staining them dark with time and tar. The acrid scent of petroleum seeped deep into her nose as she took a calming breath meant to soothe her building excitement. Answers to the questions that plagued Mariska for as long as she could remember danced within reach. Who was this woman? Where did she come from? How did she get here?

  They were all there and, finally, she was going to learn the truth.

  The announcement was to be made today—her grant proposal might finally be approved. Rumor had it she’d get her funding, and almost immediately, the whispers began. Her colleagues speculating on their own whys and hows.

  She’s Mariska Stevenson. What else did you expect?

  You know who her father is, right? He probably funded the grant himself, just to make her happy.

  I wish my daddy would buy me a museum to play with.

  Mariska pushed it aside. None of it mattered, not right now.

  If true, she was going to be given full, official access to the La Brea Woman and her findings would be published. Not even the petty jealousy of her colleagues could ruin it for her.

  She put her ruby-red Swarovski crystal purse down on the table and leaned in close, so close her breath fogged the glass case that separated her from the bones. She saw her reflection in the glass, her shiny black hair a stark contrast to her light skin and bright blue eyes. Many said she looked like a movie star, but she didn’t care for that description—she was a scientist. But she did smile when she saw her dangling earrings as they sparkled in the light. Mariska always enjoyed pretty things. The remains inside the case looked back at her. “I’m going to identify you,” she said quietly, the diamond drop earrings she wore swinging softly against her neck. “And I’m going to take you home.”

  “She can’t hear you, you know.”

  The voice, familiar and warm, brought a playful smile.

  “How can you be so sure?” Mariska straightened to find David Beaumont, her best friend and colleague, watching her from the doorway. “And how’d you know I’d be here?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” David rolled his eyes. “Where else would you be?”

  He was right, of course. Several times a day, she snuck down here to see the set of preserved bones. Nothing more than a partial skeleton, the La Brea Woman had been in the museum’s basement archives for over a decade now. Rows of multi-tiered metal shelving filled the vast underground lair. Deep underground, the repository of ancient and irreplaceable treasures was kept protected from sunlight, great temperature swings, and the killer of all antiquity—moisture. The skeletal remains had been taken off display in an attempt to stave off controversy; left unexamined to avoid having to give her back to her rightful people—whoever they turned out to be. Multiple groups of people, who wanted her returned to them, had made their desires known.

  Mariska planned to change all of that. Not only was she going to identify this ancient woman positively, but she was going to bring her home.

  “I must’ve lost track of time.” She smoothed her hands over her gown. White silk couture. Like the earrings, the dress was a gift from her mother for the occasion. The woman would use any excuse to go shopping.

  David leaned against the open doorway, smirking. He looked good in a tux—standard attire for museum gala fundraisers—but his tousled dirty blond curls and horn-rimmed glasses kept him from full-fledged James Bond status. Kept him David, just the way she liked him.

  “Snyder is looking for you,” he told her, souring her mood.

  “I’m sure he is,” she muttered. Dr. Snyder was the head curator of the Page Museum and their immediate supervisor. “Probably wants to make sure I’m sufficiently silenced for the evening.”

  David patted his hands over his suit. “And look at me—I forgot my duct tape,” he joked in an obvious attempt to lift her fallen mood. “He really chewed your ass, huh?”

  “Dr. Stevenson, I don’t care who your father is—” she said, imitating their boss’s snooty tone perfectly. “If you breathe one word about your little project within earshot of any of the Independent Review Board members tonight, your hope and dream of officially studying the La Brea Woman will come to an abrupt and permanent end. Understood?”

  David whistled low. “Harsh.”

  “As if being granted the funds to do something no scientist has been given permission to do for more than a century qualifies as nothing more than a little project.” Mariska fumed, still stinging from Snyder’s threat. She could read between the lines—mention her grant to anyone at the gala tonight, and her hopes were up in smoke.

  “He’s retiring in less than a month and can feel the loss of power nipping at his heels.” David shrugged, crooking his elbow away from his impeccably cut suit. “Don’t let him get to you.”

 
; She looked him over. “You clean up nice.”

  “Armani.” David looked down at himself before grinning in her direction. “And rented. And don’t change the subject.”

  “Well, you still look nice.” She circled the wide expanse of glass and steel that held the bones and made her way toward him. “How bad is it upstairs? Has Kathy started sucking up to Dr. Snyder yet?” Mariska’s assistant had been a pain in her ass since the day she started, but she’d been powerless to fire her. No doubt the woman had friends in high places.

  “I’m sure she’s got her nose up some rich guy’s ass. And I’m sure once you get past the protestors outside, it’s your average annual Page Museum dog-and-pony show.” He handed her a flute of champagne.

  She winced as she slipped her arm through David’s, pulling the door to the archive room closed before letting him lead her to the bank of elevators and back upstairs. “That bad?” She watched him remove his keycard and swipe it through the reader, summoning the car.

  “We roll over and beg for table scraps from millionaires, celebrities, and politicians.” He tucked his keycard back into the breast pocket of his rented tux. “Bad isn’t the word I would use.”

  She knew what word he’d use. Humiliating. Since her parents happened to be among the millionaire patrons they were supposed to be schmoozing upstairs, she kept quiet as they stepped onto the elevator together. She took a sip of the champagne. Damn, that’s good stuff. It wasn’t her first glass tonight, and wouldn’t be her last.

  “So do you,” David said to her, punching his finger against the call button, staring at his shoes.

  “So do I what?” She felt her stomach drop slightly as the car shot upward.

  He looked down at her for a moment. “Clean up nice,” he said, saving them both from an awkward moment with another lopsided smile. “Come on, Dr. Stevenson—I’ll buy you another drink to quietly celebrate your smashing success.”