Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  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 good. 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 sweati
ng. 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—

  Is she trying to stop me from going inside? Angry thoughts flared in Maria’s mind even though she didn’t understand why.

  Why was Dakota trying to stop her? She had to go inside the crevice. Everything she’d ever wanted waited for her there. Dakota couldn’t stop her. She was only a ghost, and a rather pathetic one at that.

  Moving forward more quickly now, Maria headed straight toward the ghostly figure. Only five feet away from Dakota, Maria braced herself to walk through the apparition. Dakota did not move position. She continued to hold her arms out in front of her, shaking her head. Wild eyes. Tense jaw. Trouble and concern oozing from her.

  Maria didn’t care. Not in the slightest. She took another several steps forward. The closer she got to Dakota, the more she felt an icy grip squeeze her heart. Goosebumps burst on her arms.

  Still, Maria continued on. Another step and the arm that Dakota held in front of her disappeared into Maria’s chest. An icicle stabbed into her lungs.

  But nothing mattered—except finding the yellow light that called to her from inside the crag.

  A familiar digital chirping sound woke Maria from her walking trance.

  Her phone!

  Someone had texted.

  Ranger Ferlund.

  Amy was coming.

  He must have seen her car.

  Like waking from a much-too-real nightmare, Maria leaned back. Dakota’s hand slipped out of her chest and the chill dissipated. Maria’s hands trembled as she yanked her cell phone out of the side pocket of her backpack.

  It was not Ranger Ferlund letting her know he’d spotted Amy’s car.

  Instead, the top line of the text read:

  LAB RESULTS

  Maria took another step back, increasing the space between her and the ghost of Rod’s ex-wife.

  Anxiety took a hold of Maria once again, but this time for a different reason.

  Had the lab found anything? Could this be the answer to Rod’s recovery?

  Maria hoped it wasn’t too late. She tapped the text to open it. The phone didn’t respond. Her finger was too sweaty.

  Wiping her hand on her shirt, she tried again. This time the app opened and the message unveiled itself. Four paragraphs of scientific gobbledygook text swam in front of her eyes along with a complex chemical composition with hexagons and lines everywhere.

  Okay, so where’s the stuff that normal people can understand?

  A ringing in Maria’s ears was getting more pronounced. The inside of her mouth getting pastier by the second.

  What had Rod contracted? What was wrong with him?

  At last she spied a list formatted in bullet points. There had to be something in there she could understand. She read it aloud in hopes she’d better understand it.

  Identified contaminants of solution include:

  nitrogen (trace amount)

  Barkhilderiaierium pseudomellai

  “What in the world is that?” Maria asked, directing her question to Dakota. Was there really such a thing? She continued to scan the report for more information.

  The next paragraph hypothesized how the nitrogen had found its way into the solution. Nothing seemed too out-of-the-ordinary. The lab indicated the nitrogen could have been introduced in the warehouse where the produce had been packaged. It was a common finding. However, that was not the case with Barkhilderiaierium pseudomellai.

  Native to northern Australia and Vietnam, Barkhilderiaierium pseudomellai, also known as the insanity bug, is rare and typically found only in the most rural parts of the area. It gains entrance to the body through contact with the eyes. Traveling quickly through the brain barrier, the bacteria over stimulates the amygdala and begins to promote the random firing of neuron pathways. As the infection continues, high fever, sweats and chills ensue as well as extreme mental confusion. In the early stages of the disease, the bacterial infection is treatable, but only with the gram-negative antibiotic Ceftazidime. Without treatment, prognosis is severe mental impairment akin to untreatable schizophrenia and eventual death. While hard to diagnose, the tell-tale sign is the unusual swelling of the eyes, the point of entry into the body, two to three days after infection.

  Sometimes Maria hated being right. Rod was sick. Amy was guilty. She had infected Rod. The only question left was why?

  Maria didn’t have proof convicting Amy of Dakota’s murder, but she did have significant evidence implicating Amy in Rod’s illness. Yet for the moment, Amy’s guilt could wait. For now, Maria needed to get this information from the lab to Rod’s doctors at Phoenix General. Maria prayed Rod was still in what was considered the early stages of the disease. She wiped the sweat once more off her fingers and tapped the word “Forward” at the top of the message.

  The dull ringing in her ears had been joined by a sporadic screeching. It was an odd symptom that her PTSD had never produced before. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the grating sound, until she realized it wasn’t in her ears. The penetrating noise was coming toward her, through the air, growing louder by the second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Julia Thomas … a widow who ran a bakery and confectionary in what was then downtown Phoenix … took the old man, Jacob Walz, into her own home. But there was little she could do for him. He contracted pneumonia. T
hey both knew the bed he was lying in was his deathbed. With a trembling hand, he drew a map and gave it to Julia.

  “MYSTERIES & MIRACLES OF ARIZONA” BY JACK KUTZ. RHOMBUS PUBLISHING COMPANY, 1992, PAGE 29.

  The warning had come unexpectedly. It always did.

  An intruder.

  Someone passing an ancient barrier they shouldn’t have.

  If only they would stay away, life would be simpler. Certainly less deadly.

  But, no.

  The treasure seekers came. The nature lovers. Even the innocent tourists. Most left none the wiser. But there were the few. Those who had the Sight. They saw past the veil. Into the heart of the Superstitions.

  They were not welcome.

  No trial. No forgiveness. No return.

  There was no other way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Mrs. (Julia) Thomas, formerly of Thomas Ice Cream Parlor, is now in the Superstition Mountains engaged in a work usually deemed strange for a woman’s sphere. She is prospecting for a lost mine, the location of which she believes she holds the key. But somehow, she has failed after two months work to locate the bonanza.

  “A QUEER QUEST IN SEARCH OF GOLD: ANOTHER ‘LOST MINE’ BEING HUNTED FOR BY A WOMAN.” ARIZONA DAILY GAZETTE, 1892.

  Black scratchy feathers brushed against Maria’s face along with a sharp curved claw that struck at her temple. The pain was instant. Blood dripped from the side of her face.

  What was going on?

  Maria swung her arms about, shooing the bird away. But it seemed to have no fear of her, despite being one tenth her size. It hovered near her head, zooming in, seeking a fresh patch of bare flesh to scratch. A small leather pouch hung around one of its legs, bumping into her face at each attack.

  “Get out of here!” Maria yelled, but the sound traveled no further than a few inches in front of her mouth, caught in the cocoon of mist.