by MJ Fredrick
He was already at the door, swinging it open, scanning the hall. He strode out. Mallory continued searching the room, though why the notes would be in the dresser drawers or his duffel, she didn’t know. Moments later she heard rapid-fire Spanish from Adrian, and a defensive female voice. Mallory hurried to the door to see Adrian flip open the maid’s pushcart as the tiny wide-eyed woman protested. He leaned in, pawed through the trash, emerged with his face twisted in disgust.
“Where is the trash?” he demanded.
She pointed down the stairs. He scowled.
“In the Dumpster?” he asked the woman.
She nodded, chin tucked back, her gaze not leaving Adrian. “Si.”
“Adrian.”
He was halfway down the stairs. “She hasn’t been to my room yet,” he said over his shoulder when Mallory followed.
“So why are we—?”
He turned to face her, hands braced on the handrails of the stairs, blocking the way. “It was my notes, everything. If someone has it, they know exactly where we’re excavating, exactly what we’ve found.”
Which meant someone had been watching them in the city to know where they were staying, to know Adrian would be in her room last night. Mallory rubbed at the prickles of alarm that rose on her skin. She suddenly, furiously, needed a maid to have accidentally thrown out the papers.
“I’ll go in the Dumpster if you give me a boost,” she volunteered.
But moments later, both of them covered with slime Mallory did not want to identify, they had still come up with no yellow legal paper.
Adrian’s expression was bleak as he helped her out of the Dumpster.
“We need to get to camp. Right now.”
Chapter Eleven
Adrian tensed as Mallory pulled into camp behind the other mud-spattered Land Cruiser after six excruciating hours in the car. The rain had started an hour out of town, a deluge that had made the windshield wipers ineffective and the roads mush. They’d been extremely lucky they hadn’t gotten stuck—Adrian didn’t have the strength in his arm to push, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to send Mallory out there.
They’d hardly spoken once it started raining, even though he’d offered to drive. She’d shot him a look, aware of his weakness and the pain he wouldn’t take pills for. His excuse was that he wanted to be alert in case she needed him. Plus, since she’d had to drive the whole way, his nerves were jangled. He hated being helpless.
She still didn’t believe something subversive was going on, just like last time. He had stopped trying to convince her after fifteen minutes. All that mattered was that she was in as much of a hurry to get to the campsite as he was.
His stomach knotted as Mallory yanked the brake. There was no activity in the camp, but it was still raining like hell.
Beside him, Mallory stretched into the backseat and pulled a windbreaker out of her duffel before shoving the door open. “They’re probably in Dr. Vigil’s tent. Let’s leave our gear in here for a bit.”
He pushed open his door and stopped at the fender of the Land Cruiser, keeping himself between Mallory and the camp. It was quiet—too quiet.
“Something’s wrong,” he murmured.
“Adrian, it’s raining.” She shifted the windbreaker over her head, held a corner out for him to get under. “They’re inside somewhere, reading or playing cards or something.”
Adrian shook his head at her offer as he scanned the camp. He wouldn’t feel foolish for his concern, not when the hairs on his arms were standing up. “No. Someone would be at the mess tent. It’s almost supper time.”
“Maybe they thought we’d bring something from McDonald’s,” she said, trying to make light.
He grunted and reached for her hand, needing the contact with her. They moved past the mess tent, the opening loose and flapping in the wind. “Deserted” was the word that came to Adrian’s mind.
No one was in Linda’s tent, or his, or Toney and Jacob’s.
He turned to her, lifting a finger to his lips. He hadn’t figured out what was wrong but didn’t want her to call out, to draw attention. She frowned but nodded. Couldn’t she feel that something was off?
Maybe Mal was right, they were in Robert’s. He kept his accommodations roomy and cozy, perfect for a rainy day.
The rain let up as they crossed the camp, and the sea breezes shifted but no longer carried away the scent of decay. They couldn’t. It was too strong right here.
At Robert’s tent.
Before he thought about it too hard, he whipped aside the flaps, only then realizing Mallory was behind him. His mind pushed away the reality of what was before him, and his movements turned leaden with dread.
The man they’d both loved lay at an awkward angle on his cot, as if he’d fallen and the cot had broken his fall. One of his legs was bent inward, the other straight, his arms by his side, his head thrown back.
Only when Adrian took a helpless step inside the dim tent did he see the cause of the good doctor’s fall.
A gun rested in the palm of one lifeless hand. A dark stain spread on the cot beneath him.
The realization had him spinning to catch Mallory before she saw. He caught her arms, put his body between her and Robert. She fought him to get around him to the professor, but he held her tight, shifting his body, trying to get her out of the tent at the same time. Surely she understood the stench that encompassed them.
“He’s gone, Mal. He’s gone.” The words pushed past the tightness in his throat as he tried to protect her. “He wouldn’t want you to see him this way.” Damn it, the old man shouldn’t have killed himself where someone would find him, where they would find him.
“He’s dead?” She struggled in his arms, craning her head around his shoulder. He felt her go boneless, didn’t have the strength in himself to catch her before she dropped to the sand in a heap.
“How? Oh my God! Where did he get the gun?” she asked as he crouched before her, burying his own head in his arms.
“It’s his.” He looked up, not able to focus through his tears. Then he scrambled to his feet, having difficulty finding purchase in the sand.
“Why would he do this?” She grasped his hand and stared at him, her eyes hot with accusation. “He would never do this.”
Adrian swallowed the bile that threatened to rise as she gave voice to his thoughts. No matter how bad the pain had been, Mal was right. Robert wouldn’t have done this when they were in the midst of their greatest discovery. He wouldn’t have given up now.
Would he? He’d waited until Adrian and Mal had left. Which begged the question: where were Toney and the others? They must not know about the doctor—they’d never leave him like this.
“We should call someone.” Mal stood with her arms wrapped around herself, her body tight. “Shouldn’t we call someone?”
Adrian rubbed his knuckles over his forehead as he reached past his grief for logic. “See if you can find the sat phone.”
She didn’t move, her focus on the professor. Adrian curved his hand over her shoulder and she turned her gaze to him. The despair he saw in her eyes was another punch in the gut. This man had been a father to her after her parents were killed. He squeezed her shoulder, trying to bring her closer, but she set her feet, unwilling to take comfort from him.
“I’ll stay with him,” she said.
Christ. He didn’t want to leave her here with the smell and the blood. God, there would be so much blood. “Mal.”
“I’ll stay.”
He recognized the stubborn tone but wouldn’t leave her with the man sprawled like that. There was nothing peaceful in his death. The sight, the stench, had Adrian fighting a wave of sickness, but he couldn’t back off. Taking a gulp of air, he stepped over to the cot and gripped the man’s bony shoulders to straighten him on the cot, give him that peace at least. Now he could now see the expression on Robert’s face—shock.
“Well, yeah, old man, hurts to die.” To leave everything behind, especially when yo
u have something to live for. “Christ.” The word was both prayer and question as his vision blurred, as tears ran down his nose to drip on Robert’s chest. He scrubbed his face on the shoulder of his own T-shirt and turned his head to look at Mallory. “See if you can find something to cover him with.”
She nodded, her face blotchy. She stepped over books scattered over the carpet. “What happened here?”
Adrian glanced over at the overturned chest, the research books tossed about. “Maybe he hit it when he fell.” But that didn’t make much sense. The professor didn’t weigh enough to knock over the cot. How could he have turned over a chest of books? “Mal, the blanket.”
“Right.” She rummaged through his other chest until she came up with a blanket. “Where’s the one you brought him from Scotland?” she asked, handing the solid blue blanket to Adrian.
“His plaid? On the boat, I suppose.”
“We should get that.”
The look she gave him meant that he should go. Right. He still didn’t want to leave her with the body, but she didn’t look as disturbed as he felt.
He jogged toward the beach, hating the relief he felt at being out of the tent, away from the body but not from the cloying smell. It was in his nose, on his clothes. He wondered if running into the ocean would wash it off.
He stopped short at the top of the dune. There was no boat. Perhaps the others had gone for help. But why had they left the professor like that? Unless the old man had waited to pull the trigger after they left.
Adrian pushed back the image that popped into his mind, instead focusing on his crew. Surely they weren’t diving in this weather. He couldn’t see the platform from here, and even if he could, he had no way of getting to them, no way of communicating.
Jesus. He dragged a hand over his hair as tension squeezed his gut, uncertainty rattled his nerves. He hated not knowing what to do next, the feeling only compounded by the grief he felt over losing his friend, worry about finding Toney and the others.
When he returned to the tent, Mallory knelt by Robert’s body, her hand on his. She looked up, tears streaking her face, reddening her eyes.
“The boat’s gone,” he said.
“What?” Eyes wide, she got to her feet. “Where?”
“How do I know?” He regretted the snarl when she recoiled. He couldn’t let his own fears feed hers. She’d need reassurance so he’d bury his own concern to give it to her. “Maybe they went for help.”
“Why would they leave him without covering him up? They wouldn’t do that.”
He shook his head, then pivoted and headed for the vehicles.
Mallory watched him go but could no longer bear being alone with Dr. Vigil’s body. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his body, and the scent permeated everything. She ran after Adrian.
He stood at the passenger door of the other Land Cruiser, a cigarette hanging from his lips, checking the magazine of a handgun. She skidded to a halt, grains of sand digging into her feet. He cut a look in her direction, his expression hard, dangerous.
Unfamiliar.
“Adrian, what are you doing?”
“Something’s not right,” he said around the unlit cigarette, tucking the gun in the back of his pants. “I’m not walking around unarmed. And if we’re going to look for Toney and the others, you need this.” He picked up another gun from the front seat, handed it to her, grip first. “Do you remember how to shoot?”
“Yes, but—” She took the gun, heavier than she recalled, and her skin iced. “It’s been awhile.”
He pulled the lighter out of the dash of the truck, lit his cigarette, took a deep drag. An expression of relief washed over his face, the first she’d seen since they’d left town. He blew out a breath, the action so familiar and, God help her, sexy, a punch of longing shivered through her. Good, normal. She could feel something other than this heavy sadness.
“We’re going into the jungle. Stay close.”
Chapter Twelve
After more than an hour of searching and finding no sign of anyone, not even the sat phone, Adrian called a halt to the search. The uncertainty of not knowing about the rest of their crew weighed heavily in Mallory’s stomach. They wouldn’t have left the professor. She was certain of that. So where were they?
They stopped outside of Dr. Vigil’s tent. Adrian stared at the opening, his jaw working. “We need to bury him.”
Resistance tightened her body. “Here? In the middle of nowhere? No, we have to take him home.”
“We can’t do that. We can’t even get out of here ourselves, with no boat and the roads turned to mush. Leaving him just wrapped in a blanket—it’s not right.”
She took a step back, hugging herself as if that would steady her stomach. “He’ll be alone.”
“He doesn’t have any family to visit him, not anymore. We’re all he had. Besides, he liked it here. And he won’t know the difference. Don’t make this harder than it is, Mal.”
She gathered herself with a deep shuddering breath, looking out over the dunes, tears running down her face. She turned and nodded. “Let me help you.”
They managed to get the professor buried by the cliffs, the physical difficulty allowing them to mask their grief. When they were done, aching and sweaty and sad, Adrian went for a swim, to get the smell of death off his skin. He wasn’t supposed to get his stitches wet, but after burying the professor in the rain and hiking through the jungle, well, it no longer mattered. Mallory, sweaty from digging in the packed sand, considered joining him, went as far as following him to the beach but Adrian apparently wanted to be alone.
So she sat in the sand and watched him, sifting the grains through her fingers. He had to be hurting as much as she was. Of course he couldn’t share that with her. Not only was Adrian mourning the loss of his best friend, his brother was missing, his boat was gone, along with his way to get to the ship.
Adrian emerged from the ocean, his clothes plastered to him. He scooped up his boots and socks from the edge of the water and walked over, then plopped down on the sand beside her, his gaze on the ocean.
“Aren’t you going in?”
She shook her head. “Adrian, we have to find the others.”
“I know.” A muscle in his jaw jumped as he laced his shoes. He scrubbed a hand over his hair and looked at her. “But frankly, I don’t think I can stand to smell you if you don’t.” He lifted his own drenched T-shirt to his nose and grimaced. “For all the good it does. I need my pack.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ll bring yours too.”
Mallory dropped her head to her arms after he disappeared over the dunes. Why would she have thought he’d change, that he’d open up to her? Emotionally unavailable as always.
And she was emotionally involved again.
He returned and tossed her pack onto the sand beside her. He stripped off his wet shirt and let it fall to the ground. For the first time since she’d returned to the peninsula, the sight of his bare skin didn’t affect her. She was too numb. She stood and walked into the water herself, hoping the water would wash away her sorrow.
She dove under the water, floated on the waves, let them carry her under the overcast sky, timeless. Only instead of washing the memories away, it opened her up so they all to come crashing back. Dr. Vigil had been part of her family as long as she could remember, her father’s best friend. He’d gone on every dig with her family, all through the Andes, indulging her curiosity, enduring her jokes. She had chosen symbology at his encouragement, and he’d helped her study to get into the University of Texas.
Then Adrian had joined their team one summer. With his own rocky relationship with his father fresh in his mind, he’d latched on to Dr. Vigil as well. Dr. Vigil had loved it, loved how the young people had included him in their lives. After her parents died, he’d joined their crew and helped them buy their first boat since he didn’t have kids of his own.
When she’d walked away from Adrian, Dr. Vigil had stayed, and she’d lost him as well as her hu
sband.
Now Adrian was back in her life and Dr. Vigil was gone forever.
Eating a dinner of Spam in the rear of the truck, cross-legged on top of the sleeping bags in close confines, brought back memories of other digs and almost let Mallory forget that they’d buried the professor next to the cliff a few hours ago, that they didn’t know where their friends were.
She set aside her sandwich and sighed. “Have you got a bottle of Scotch under the front seat?” Anything to kill the taste of the meat.
Adrian shook his head mournfully. “I didn’t think to replenish my stock after the storm. I wish to hell I had.” His hand went to his breast pocket. “Didn’t bring any more beef jerky, either.” He pulled out the pack of Toney’s cigarettes, bounced it in his hand but didn’t take one out.
She watched the familiar motions. “When did you give up smoking?” Maybe if she didn’t think about the texture of the meat product, she could swallow it better.
He set the pack on the wheel well and stared at it. “A few months ago.”
“Why?”
He jerked his thumb toward the cliff. “The prof was diagnosed with throat cancer, and he’d given up smoking years ago. I thought maybe I’m too late, but why risk it?”
“Dr. Vigil had cancer?” The food stuck in her throat, which convulsed as she tried to breathe. That explained why he might kill himself. Mallory wondered at the relief that rushed through her. He’d had a compelling reason, but why now, why here? If his illness had been that bad, she would have seen signs of it. “What was he doing out here?”
He slanted a look at her. “Looking for a ship.” Like it was obvious.
These men, always putting their careers first. What the hell was wrong with them? She stuck the spoon in the Spam and slammed the can against the tailgate. “Instead of taking care of himself?”
“Mal, you knew the man.” He swept a hand over his hair. “What was more important to him than archaeology?”
