“Who are the Tewa? Are they local here in California?” Mariska asked.
“They are a group of Native Americans who settled near the Rio Grande in New Mexico or Santa Fe.”
“That’s so strange, considering the bead was found in California.” Mariska sat back in the chair.
“Not completely surprising,” Doc said.
“Why’s that?”
“Constellations are observed all over the world.” Doc reached behind him and pulled out a book, plopping it on the desk. “Greek.” He turned around and grabbed a couple more books. One by one, he dropped them onto the desk. “Roman. Norse. Iroquois. Pawnee. Inuit.” He stopped and looked at her for a moment. “Each of these books contains a list, description, and the mythological stories provided by each of these civilizations. Many of them overlap. They are looking at and using the same groupings of stars, but often telling completely different stories.”
Her head was spinning. How would she ever narrow this down?
“Even within the same region. Take the desert southwest for example. There could be multiple Native American tribes that carved or told stories about the same constellations as the neighboring tribe. I think I remember a totally different story about the same set of stars as what’s on the bead, from the Navajo.” Doc leaned against the desk. “What I’m trying to say is, it would be hard to identify the bead’s origin without other associating factors.”
“Like, what else? DNA?” She sat up straight and leaned in.
He looked shocked and sat back against his chair. “You’re the expert, Dr. Stevenson. To determine the origin of this bead, you would need the exact location of discovery. Not to mention looking for other artifacts at the same location and depth. For example, pottery, other beads or jewelry, maybe even human remains…bones.”
Other beads. Bones. The La Brea Woman’s bones. But everything was gone.
“Where did you find this artifact?” Doc asked.
She cleared her throat. “You’ll never believe it. I was at an estate sale in West Hollywood, and I found it in a jewelry box I’d purchased.” Mariska fidgeted a bit in the chair. There was no telling who she could trust, even within the scientific community.
“You’re absolutely, right,” Doc said. “I don’t believe you.”
Suddenly, the calm and centeredness Mariska had felt moments ago, had been stripped away. The confines of Doc’s basement office began to close in around her. The tightness in her chest threatened to stop her from breathing.
“Thank you, Doc.” Mariska stood to leave. “I have to go.”
She was about to pull his office door closed behind her when he said, “I’d love to get my hands on that bead again.”
Without a word, Mariska closed the door and ran down the hallway. She was going to need a new place to meditate and solve her problems.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mariska burst through the front doors of the Observatory, down the steps and onto the lawn where she slowed to a walk. Three school buses in the parking lot opened their doors and a flood of screaming children spilled out of them. It was a good thing she’d already done her meditation. She made her way to the far Eastern end of the property which led to the parking area as well as the hiking trails when her cell phone rang.
It was her mother.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey.” Her voice was so chipper and brought a smile to her face. “I wanted to see how you liked the car we had sent over to you this morning.”
“Oh Mom. I tried calling this morning but got your voicemail. Practically squealed when I saw what you’d picked out for me.”
“Your father and I were out to brunch with a few city officials, and I wasn’t able to pick up the phone. It was so boring.” Her mom chuckled.
“I can imagine it would be.” Mariska shared her amusement. “You and Dad are so generous. Thank you very much for all the help. I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to pay you guys back as soon as I can.”
“I’m happy you’re happy. Your father is friends with the owner of the dealership and he handled the entire transaction, but I picked out the color.” Mariska could almost hear her mother beaming with pride.
“And it’s perfect, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you more.” Her mom paused for a moment and Mariska took that second to turn and find a place to sit and continue their conversation. Spotting a cement bench not too far away, she made a beeline. Under a large pine tree, it would at least offer some shielding from the sun.
“Your father wants to know if you’re remembering to eat.” Mariska knew where the question originated. Her mom had always been worried about her eating habits during times of stress—she’d lost too much weight one semester in college and her mom threatened to force-feed her pizza and milkshakes.
“I sure am. Let Dad know I had an egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast.”
“Of course.” Leah sighed, no doubt with relief.
“I hate to bring up the car again, but I’m a little surprised you got me such an expensive one. I feel guilty you guys fronted so much.”
“Oh nonsense. You deserve it.”
Mariska laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I appreciate it. And, I love the color. Black with tinted windows. I hope when David sees it he won’t give me crap about it being a Mercedes.”
“Your father was going to get you a red car. I told him that wasn’t your thing. You prefer stylish and low-key. David’s a good boy. I can tell he really likes you.”
Mariska didn’t say anything for a moment. Her mom must have sensed the awkward silence. “I’m sorry. I know, I know, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s not that. I honestly don’t know where we stand these days. And, until I know, I’d prefer not to talk about it.” Mariska pulled the phone away as she heard a beep from an incoming text message.
“Hey, I have to go. Can I call you later?”
“Yes, dear. Your father and I will be going to a fundraising banquet later, but feel free to call me anytime. Lord, knows I’d rather talk to you than those stuffy socialites.”
They shared a quick chuckle. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, more.”
Mariska disconnected the call and went to her text messages. It was from an unknown sender, which could mean only one thing. Badger. She clicked on the message, and it read: Follow my instructions.
Mariska typed a reply, but the phone wouldn’t send the message since it was from an unknown number. So, she sat and waited for further instructions.
Beep
Last week when you came here you spent some time on the trails. Go to the large tree that you rested under and wait for further instructions.
How long has Badger been watching? There was no way it was a coincidence that he answered her online ad for tech support. Too many coincidences. He knew too much. She thought back to last week, and the time she’d spent up here in the hills. So much had happened between now and then. There was a favorite place on the trail she rested though. That must be where Badger was referring. She got up from the bench and jogged to it. It didn’t take, but five minutes to reach the spot. She stopped and looked around. Mariska hadn’t noticed before just how deserted this part of the park was. Even a week ago being alone didn’t seem as unnerving as it did now.
Beep
Follow the path behind you. Four hundred feet. Stop. Turn right.
Mariska followed the instructions precisely as she was told. Using the average stride length of an adult female being close to two feet as a guide, she paced off two hundred paces. But when she turned right, there was a steep ravine that looked treacherous.
Beep
Jump.
“Not on your life, Badger.” Mariska looked around with her arms crossed. There was no one in sight. From this height, she could see loose graveled trails snaking around the park. Through the trees and over and around the many hills. In the distance, the people jogging, hiking and walking their dogs; all l
ooked small. Far enough away, they wouldn’t hear her scream for help.
Beep
Just kidding. I left the package at the edge of the ravine. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.
Maybe he left me my laptop? “Why couldn’t you drop it off at my house?” Mariska said. She looked at the phone. Nope, he didn’t respond. Where the heck is it?
The earth had crumbled at the edge of the ravine, and she stepped up to it. Hugging a pine tree and peering over the edge, she saw a brown cardboard box about twenty feet down. The damn package had fallen over the edge—dammit. Thankfully, she was dressed in jeans and sneakers. Had she been in heels, there would be no way for her to climb down the steep wall. Moving to the edge, she sat on her butt, letting her legs go over the side. She inched forward and lowered herself down to the first little ledge. This was where it got interesting. Surveying the path she planned to take, it seemed pretty straightforward. Work herself down the hill slowly, always have one limb braced against something solid at all times, and don’t fall. It wasn’t so steep that she’d die from the fall but she’d definitely be in a wheelchair for the next eight months.
Mariska turned to face the wall of loose rock and began working her way down the side. Every few feet, the small pebbles and crumbling rock skittered over the ledge and down the side of the cliff. Don’t look down, Mariska kept telling herself. Look at the wall in front of you. She was almost there. A few more feet down and she could rest. Her heart raced, and she was covered in sweat. Partially from the exertion, but mostly from fear. Facing the wall, she sidestepped over to the next ledge where the prize was waiting for her. Setting foot on the five-foot-wide landing, she was able to take a sigh of relief. From there, she could rest before going back up.
Beep. Another text message came through.
Good job. Once you open the present, follow the instructions.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mariska said. Although, she wasted no time tearing into the cardboard box. There it sat, her laptop. “Yes.”
She opened the lid and pushed power. A few seconds later the screen came to life, and a word repeatedly flashed on the screen. Click, me.
Mariska clicked, and the image of a cartoon Badger came on the screen. She pushed the volume up button a few times to make sure she could hear what was happening. The Badger began to talk.
“Some of the files contained on this laptop have been corrupted beyond repair. Many of them have been erased completely,” Badger said.
“Damn.”
“There are a few files pertaining to the La Brea Woman that have been retrieved. You will find them saved to the desktop under LBW. That’s not all. I have reason to believe you are in serious danger.”
“No shit,” Mariska said. “I’ve almost died a few times now.”
Badger continued, “I have determined that your computer was used on the night of the Fundraising Gala to access financial records for members of the Independent Review Board, Dr. Snyder, and some of those who were in attendance at the Gala. Many of the people are rich and powerful. Some of them you know.”
Mariska’s heart sank. Could they be talking about her own father?
“There is also a list of vendors that were there the night of the Gala. Some of these vendors have ties to Gala attendees as well as local groups staking claim to the La Brea Woman’s remains.” The Badger bowed and disappeared. The blank screen was replaced by the desktop containing two folders. One marked: LBW, the other marked: Top Secret.
Mariska turned off the computer and closed the lid. Looking back up to the top of the cliff, she shook her head. How was she going to get back up there while carrying this laptop? She tugged on the waistband of her jeans. There was a little play, so she sucked in her belly as far as she could and shoved the laptop down the front of her pants. She did a quick twist and bend and managed not to break the laptop. No other options, she took a deep breath and started climbing.
Three-quarters of the way up, she did the one thing she always told herself not to do, looked down. Her hands instantly began to sweat, the dust that covered them became slick and messy. Mariska wiped them on her jeans and chastised her stupidity. Facing the cliff, her body pressed up against the crumbly rock wall, she side-stepped up the narrow pathway to the top. A few more feet and she’d be safe where she’d started this insane journey. Pausing for a moment, she took a deep breath. She was almost there but exhausted. Looking up, she saw that the ledge was within reach, but unlike when she started her way down, she was going to have to pull herself up and over the edge. The computer was going to get damaged if she didn’t take it out of her pants.
With shaky hands, she let go of the jutting rocks in front of her and slid the computer out of her waistband. She grabbed a hold of the rocks with her left hand and used her right to hoist the computer up and over the edge. On tiptoes, she managed to get it safely up there. Now, to get herself up there too. Bringing the left foot up onto a rock that stuck out from the wall, she stepped up and used both arms to steady herself on the flat ground above her.
Where was her computer? With her upper body resting on at the top landing and the bottom half dangling precariously over the edge, she saw a man a few feet away. He looked back at her over his shoulder. It wasn’t the same monster that assaulted her last night, and he wasn’t all that big. This asshole was stealing it. With a move, straight out of a ninja movie, she flung her leg over the top and rolled sideways onto her back. Scrambling onto all fours she yelled, “Hey, that’s mine.”
The young man, dressed in a dark grey hoodie and blue jeans stopped for a second.
“Please give me back my laptop.” Mariska started walking toward him. He wasn’t more than fifteen feet away from her. Maybe he’d mistakenly thought the computer didn’t belong to anyone? Or, had she been followed?
Nope, he started running. “Asshole.” Mariska jumped into pursuit. The guy’s baggy pants and unlaced high-tops sneakers were slowing him down, and she was gaining ground. They were running downhill toward the Observatory parking area. He tried to turn down a path on the right, but the loose gravel made him lose his footing. Rocks skittered out from under him, and he grabbed for a tree branch to keep him from falling. It slowed him down just enough for her to close the gap separating them.
Without a thought for her own safety, she threw herself at the young man. Her shoulder connected with his midsection. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she didn’t let go as they tumbled down the steep rocky path. Mariska barely registered the stones scraping off pieces of flesh as he rolled over the top of her. The laptop slid from his grasp, and he struggled to stand as he kept trying to run, but his legs weren’t fully under him. He bent low to reach for the computer, but Mariska kicked at his legs, causing him to fall forward once again. Flat on his face he slid a few feet down the path, giving her time to right herself. On her feet, she rushed the man and kicked him in the ribs with every ounce of her strength. She felt her ankle pop, but there wasn’t any pain.
Taking a step back, she wound up again and kicked him. This time, she heard him cry out in pain. He turned over on to his back, and she saw a kid. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen years old.
“Who sent you?” Mariska said, coming to kneel on his chest. The point of her knee pressing into his sternum, the pain etched across his face as he struggled to take in a deep breath. “Who the fuck sent you?”
The boy tried to wiggle free. He shifted his weight to the side, but it was no use. She had all the advantage. Mariska pushed down harder onto his chest, but then brought her hand to his neck. She clamped her hand around his throat and applied enough pressure to scare him, but not crush his trachea. His face grew red, and the little blood vessels on his forehead, temples, and neck began to bulge. The kid started to cough.
Mariska loosened her grip enough for him to talk. “I’m going to ask this one more time. Who sent you?”
His eyes grew wide, “I can’t tell you.” He turned his head enough to look down the trail they’d been ru
nning on. The kid craned his neck so he could see past the tree line. Mariska followed his gaze and saw a man in the distance, watching their struggle. He was too far away to make out, but she could tell he was an adult male. The man was of indistinct race, his hoodie obscuring his face. His size was smaller than the hulk that’d broken into her home. How many people wanted to kill her? How many people wanted the La Brea Woman and the information about her whereabouts?
Mariska turned back to the kid and said, “I’m going to let you up, now. Don’t try anything stupid. I’m going to retrieve my laptop, and you’re not going to do shit about it. Understood?”
The boy nodded.
She didn’t have any choice, but to believe him, and take the chance. Mariska took her hand off his neck and then stood. The kid rolled away and ran for the observatory. She hurried over to the computer, scooped it up and ran for her new car. Hopefully, it was still in one piece and whoever was after her, didn’t break out all the windows or set it ablaze.
Mariska rounded the corner and crossed the parking lot without slowing down. Fishing the keys out of her pants in a dead run wasn’t that easy, but it was necessary. Clicking the unlock button, she threw open the door and got inside, slamming the door closed behind her. She locked the doors and started the engine. A week ago, the idea that she worried her car could blow up when starting it would have been absurd. Today it was a relief. Pulling out of the parking space, Mariska called David.
“Hey Mariska,” he said as he answered the phone.
“I am headed back to my apartment. What time are we doing dinner tonight?”
“You know, you’re not supposed to be driving while talking on the phone.” His voice was lighthearted and fun. “I’ll come by your place around seven o’clock. Will that work?”
“Perfect, see you then.” Mariska hung up the phone.
Preservation Page 18
