As predicted, the car behind her sped up. But instead of trying to get on her left and bully her off the road from the side, it headed straight for her bumper. The driver probably thought a hit from behind worked the first time, so why not try it again.
The car behind bumped into Maria again. Both cars careened on the shoulder that was covered in slippery rocks and pebbles. Maria hit the brakes on her Jeep, turning her steering wheel sharply to the left.
The oncoming Nissan hit in the rear of her Jeep. Maria slid a few feet, but the other car jolted backward, spinning around. Maria slammed on her brakes, pulling her gun out of the holster, while at the same time checking the license plate. There was none.
The Nissan made a 180 degree turn and flew away from the scene at top speed. Maria aimed her gun at a tire and fired. The car was too far away, and she missed her target.
Maria parked her car on the shoulder of the road to get out of the way of traffic. Taking out her cell phone, she dialed 911. “My name is Maria Branson. There’s been a hit and run accident on Highway 89 involving a police car and a gray Nissan sedan, license plate unknown. Please send back up.”
The confrontation had been a warning. Had the driver seriously wanted to kill her, he wouldn’t have given up so easily and sped off. No, the whole thing had been a message: We don’t like you here. Go away.
Now it was Maria’s job to find out who sent it.
Not to be deterred from the investigation, Maria made it to Richfield, despite the fact the sheriff of Sevier County had detained her for an hour. He was painfully slow at filling out the paperwork. But eventually he finished the job and, from the tire marks on the road, confirmed Maria’s account of what had happened. She would have to replace her bumper, but other than that, she’d come out of the experience unharmed.
It was dinnertime when she finally sat down with Cal Emerson. One of the senator’s bodyguards had gotten them food from a local deli. Maria’s stomach still hadn’t quite settled from the morning’s excitement, so she only picked at the large white bun.
The senator had chosen a salad. He carefully drizzled a fourth of the dressing on it. “I have to be careful with calories these days. You hit fifty and your body quits burning them like it used to.”
The senator was the epitome of friendly. He smiled as he ate, as he spoke, and as he listened. At the end of the day his jaw must ache, thought Maria. Both the senator’s face and head were cleanly shaven and shiny. His outfit was impeccable. The perfect politician.
Small talk took up the first twenty-five minutes of the forty-five minute interview Maria was allowed.
The senator was married and had a family. His children were all grown. Yes, he loved the Kanab area. That’s why he’d purchased a home there. He’d been in politics since his twenties, and he didn’t have plans to retire anytime soon. He was saddened by the death of his friend Darrin Hayward, the mayor of Kanab. They had known each other for decades. They had golfed and even traveled together. No, their wives hadn’t gone with them. Mostly they’d done fishing trips to Alaska, things the “wives” weren’t interested in.
At last it was time to get to the meat of why Maria had come.
“Senator, we found this note in Mayor Hayward’s possessions. It was hidden, as if he didn’t want anyone to find it. Do you have any idea why?” Maria shoved the note, now encased in a plastic shield, across the table so the senator could see it better.
He read it out loud:
“Let’s meet. We need to talk about Cal Emerson.”
He shifted confidently in his chair. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Chief Branson. What would this note insinuate?”
“That someone who knew the mayor knew something about you that he or she wanted to talk to Mayor Hayward about it. The fact the note was hidden indicates the topic of the conversation was one the mayor wanted to keep secret.”
The senator didn’t speak for a minute. When he did, his smile hadn’t faded a bit. “That is a lot of speculation without even the suggestion of proof. This note doesn’t point to anything clandestine. It could have been a discussion of my campaigning methods, which are very confidential by the way, or maybe a surprise birthday party for me. Pity sakes. Are you seriously thinking anyone would believe you?”
“Fair enough.” Maria pulled a book out of her messenger bag. “I don’t suppose you knew you were mentioned quite often in the mayor’s journal?”
“I didn’t know the mayor kept a journal.” Again, the senator didn’t flinch.
Maria tapped her foot nervously under the table. “He did. He didn’t keep any kind of a schedule, daily planner, or even Google calendar. But he kept a journal. It almost seems like he didn’t want anyone snooping around the office finding a record of his whereabouts. But he must have thought a journal was more private, that people wouldn’t go to his house and find it. But then he died, and that’s exactly what I did.”
More smiles from Cal Emerson. “I’m honored Darrin found me a good enough friend to mention me in his private writings. Do you have an issue with what he wrote?”
“Not exactly,” Maria answered. “Just the timing.”
“The timing?” The senator’s eyebrows rose.
“Mayor Hayward mentioned when you two got together. For lunch, a game of golf, you know the routine. Your visits were always followed by a rather large deposit into his bank account. Every single time. Now, some people think the mayor had a gambling problem, and that explained his erratic financial spending. What do you think?”
“I have no idea.” Senator Emerson shifted in his chair. “I’ll ask you the same question. What do you think?”
The top of the senator’s head appeared a little shinier from small beads of sweat.
Maria stared straight into his eyes. “I think the mayor might have had a gambling problem, but most of the money he received was from blackmailing you. You both have financial records that are as sticky as honey. I sent my report to the attorney general’s office yesterday. I wanted to give you a heads up. It might be easier on you to come clean now and avoid what else they might turn up. One thing I’m sure of. You and the mayor weren’t friends. You were enemies.”
With one last smile, Senator Emerson stood up. “I’m sure you’ll understand why I won’t thank you for coming. I do believe it is time for you to go.”
As Maria walked out of the city offices, her legs felt steady. She had confronted the senator and put him on alert, just what she’d wanted to do. It turned out when she’d submitted her report to the attorney general’s office, the attorney general confided to her that the senator was already under investigation and this was more fuel to the fire. He’d been the one to suggest letting the senator know about what she’d found in hopes he’d try to cover his tracks. And make a mistake. People who knew they were being watched always did.
Maria’s cell phone rang. It was Ryker Jephson, the forensic archaeologist.
“Hi, Professor Jephson.”
“Good news,” he said. “The permit came through. My team and I are driving to Kanab first thing in the morning. I’m thrilled. I’ve always wanted to do work in the four corners area. I’ll see you soon.”
“Perfect,” said Maria. Even though she was no longer sure an excavation of the cave was necessary to solve the case, it was best to cover every angle.
Everything was coming together. Maybe she wasn’t useless after all, despite Tehran.
Maybe.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The gold seekers came upon still another cavernous room in which they discovered a large human skeleton propped in a sitting position. They called him Smiley . . . because he looked like he was smiling.
RANGE MAGAZINE. “MONTEZUMA’S REVENGE” BY RICHARD MENZIES, FALL ISSUE 1998.
When Maria got home late that night, she checked her phone messages. There was one from Rod. News travels fast in a small town.
“Hey, I got your number from Beth. I hope you don’t mind. Listen, I heard about what happened
to you today on the highway. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Give me a call, okay?”
Maria’s face warmed, and the ball of angst in her gut that she’d felt ever since being run off the road seemed to dissipate. Rod’s “phone voice” was soothing. Or maybe his voice was always soothing? Perhaps she just hadn’t noticed it until now?
Her thoughts made her feel a little silly, but she didn’t care. Rod had called her. And he’d left a message. Not a text. A real message. His voice sounded deep, manly, and most importantly, genuine.
The thought startled her.
Genuine.
Wasn’t that the trait she always told herself she was looking for in a guy?
Her flushed reaction to the message unsettled Maria, and for the first time she admitted maybe she was liking him. And not in the “hey dude, I like you” sort of way. But the other kind. The more romantic kind of like.
No, she told herself. Perhaps it was just the sound of his voice that had caused feelings to ignite inside of her—emotions she thought had been stolen from her in Tehran, along with her sanity. If it was just his voice that made her feel this way, she could chalk up her reaction to some audio-sensory phenomenon.
Regardless, the emotions were there. Tugging at her insides. Creating images of the two of them laughing together, holding hands—
Stop it! The image of her happy and in love created a sensation in her chest like she felt right before she puked. To flirt with a guy a little bit here or there was one thing. But to actually fall in love? There was so much about Maria’s life she had to fix before she could feel anything even close to love.
Maria put the phone down, chastising herself. Besides that, it was a simple phone message. Rod was the head of Search and Rescue. Most likely he’d called for strictly professional reasons. He probably wanted to keep the two departments on good terms. In some cities the police and Search and Rescue fought like cats and dogs.
So what if Beth said he’d called her “hot?” That was totally different from him actually wanting to be with her. He’d seen her lose it in the cave. He knew she was a mess. It was better if she didn’t get her hopes up. Personal relationships were simply not her thing. They always had the risk of back firing. Of blowing up in her face. He might learn her secrets.
In fact, now that she’d had time to really think about it, she was more convinced than ever she should stay as far away from him and his big nose as possible.
The next morning, Maria woke up early to meet with her former professor. Lately, Professor Jephson had done more traveling than teaching, obsessed with exploring unexplained mysteries. Kanab’s Aztec connection was perfect for his latest conquest. He had gotten into town late the night before and wanted to get to the cave first thing in the morning. It wasn’t surprising he was waiting for her in the parking lot outside his hotel.
“Maria!” Ryker’s silver hair was masterfully messy—as if he knew exactly what his hair was supposed to look like after a hot day in the windy desert of southern Utah. The dry-cleaned suit he always wore as a professor was replaced with khaki zip-off pants and a forest green t-shirt that read: Except for criminology, archaeology has the highest body count.
“Professor Jephson!” Maria clasped her former teacher’s hand. They shook vigorously, finally stopping when Maria stepped back to get a better look at him.
“You look great—tanned and exotic. Seriously, you look fifteen years younger. Field work is good for you.”
He gave a distinguished bow. “Why thank you. And it’s not Professor Jephson to you anymore. Please, call me Ryker.”
“All right, Ryker,” continued Maria, “what do you think of Kanab so far?”
The forensic archaeologist leaned against a twelve-passenger van full of what appeared to be his excavation staff.
“I love it, and I’m ready to start working. I’ve been doing quite a bit of research on the area. It is full of all kinds of folklore. I’d love to see what this could all be about.” He took a drink from a water bottle large enough to quench the thirst of an entire family in Africa.
Looking at the full van, Maria was amazed at the number of people he’d brought with him. “What kind of a budget do you have? I thought it’d be you and a college intern digging away.”
Ryker wiped a dribble of water from his chin. “Yes, well, I’ve come across a private donor who likes to fund my work. Rather lucky on my part. It means I get so much more done.”
“That’s awesome.” Maria was excited things were moving forward so quickly. “Let’s get going. It takes a little while to get there.”
On the drive and subsequent hike, Maria briefed Ryker on the details of the case. When they reached the area, they spent a few minutes walking around the outside of the cave, and then Maria showed him the hidden opening and ushered him inside.
Light from Ryker’s flashlight lit up the layers of limestone that ran horizontally through the cave walls. The limestone started as silver streaks and then turned white, finally ending up a deep orange color. Ryker whistled. “She’s a beauty. And all of the evidence has been removed?”
“Yes,” said Maria. “Everything was collected and is at forensics. At this point, you have free reign of the cave.”
Immediately, Ryker began barking out orders to his excavation team. They pounded stakes into the ground and divided up the inside of the cave into a grid system. It was the way to document and keep track of every inch of the space. They also hooked up machines to monitor air quality and installed more substantial lighting that ran off a generator.
The renowned professor practically skipped as he made his way back and forth from the cave, contagious excitement swirling around him.
“I’m not sure how much this excavation will help solve the murder of Mayor Hayward,” Maria said as he passed by her, “but we may solve a 600-year-old mystery of Montezuma’s gold.” She laughed, wanting to make it perfectly clear to Ryker that she was kidding around.
Straight faced, the old professor glanced up. “Trust me. I plan on it.”
Pete Richins and Sherrie Mercer showed up at the cave together. It was lunchtime, and the sun beat down relentlessly. From under the pop-up shade, Maria waved to them. Large circles of sweat ringed Pete’s shirt in the armpits. Sherrie’s face glistened.
“Come get out of the sun for a minute.” After hearing what her friend Beth had said about the journalist’s rough childhood, Maria had decided to be more patient with her. Living off the grid hadn’t prepared the woman to know how to act around other people. In addition, Maria was “the government.” That was most likely akin to being the devil in the home Sherrie grew up in, which was probably the gun-loving, weapon-hoarding, gasoline-storing type.
“You guys are melting,” said Maria, scooting her camp chair over. All morning she’d been watching Ryker and his crew march in and out of the cave carrying equipment in and taking rock out. The entrance was too restrictive to get any machinery in there; yet, after just one morning of labor, there was a significant mound of debris off to the east side of the cave where the workers put the material they hauled out.
“I’m glad you got here, Pete,” Maria said. “I was about to go in and see what it’s looking like inside the cave. I’ve tried to stay out of their way as much as possible.”
Pete handed her a brown paper sack from the pack on his back. On the sack it read “ham and Swiss” in scrawled permanent marker.
“For me?” Maria reached out to take the bag.
Pete waved his hand flippantly like it was no big deal. “Yeah. I had an extra.”
Maria took the lunch with a smile. Pete had been doting on her like a concerned brother ever since he’d heard about what happened on Highway 89 when she’d almost been run off the side of the road.
“Everything’s going okay, huh?” he asked.
“Great.” Maria saw Sherrie steal a glance at the case notes she’d been studying while waiting for the excavation to proceed. Maria slipped the papers back into a manila
folder and shoved it into her bag.
“I thought you wouldn’t mind if I came out to see what was going on at the scene,” said Sherrie. “I think people in Kanab want to know what a forensic archaeologist has to do with the murder of Mayor Hayward.”
Taken back, Maria asked, “How did you know there was a forensic archaeologist here?”
Sherrie nodded toward Pete matter-of-factly. “He told me.”
With a scolding look, Maria glanced at Pete.
He blushed. “I-I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to. She asked about it. She’d overhead the archeologist and his crew talking to each other during their breakfast at Subway this morning.”
Maria had once again forgotten how hard it was to contain information in a small town. “It’s okay, Pete. Sherrie, you’re welcome to ask me about the case, but I can only answer what’s been officially released to the public. And I’m afraid you can’t go into the cave while crime work is being done on it.”
Sherrie didn’t seem bothered. “That’s okay. I can always interview you for the human interest piece I want to write. The one about what you did at the CIA before joining our humble police force in Kanab.” Her voice was light and airy, but the look in her eyes reminded Maria of a vulture flying circles around a carcass.
Making poker faces, however, was Maria’s specialty. “Sure. Why don’t you sit down and share this sandwich with me. We’ll talk over lunch. Want to join us, Pete?”
The pink in Pete’s cheeks from Maria’s visual scolding had mostly dissipated. He set up another camp chair and sat down. “Love to. By the way, the coroner called and said the autopsy is done. She did say there’s something on the body she wants to show us.”
Maria glanced at Sherrie, letting Pete know they’d have to talk about this later. Not in front of the town journalist.
Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure Page 12
