“Whatever I can do. By the way, congratulations on your new job. I didn’t realize that when you found me it would turn into a career.”
“Neither did I. It’s turning out to be more than I bargained for. There’s so much to learn. Aside from law enforcement, most of my career as a psychologist has been in private practice.”
McCabe was genuinely pleased to be asked for advice on a case. “How’s about we meet at the ruins, spend a few hours there and then have a late breakfast at the San Marcos Café?”
Laura rolled her eyes and smiled. “What’s that old saying about not being able to change the stripes on a tiger?” she said. “He’s been wanting to get his feet wet again in law enforcement. Just don’t go letting him get in too deep.”
“We’re just going to snoop around a little bit, Honey,” said McCabe. “I doubt there’s much danger in that. And you know I can’t get into trouble looking through old case files.”
“I’ll keep a close eye on him,” Jemimah winked at Laura. “Tomorrow will be just fine,” she told McCabe.
“I look forward to it,” he said, not containing his excitement.
Driving home, Jemimah thought about Rick and where their relationship was headed. She did not want it to move too fast. She wasn’t sure she liked him better than Whitney, but then again she wasn’t sure she liked Whitney at all ... well, other than his very handsome looks, his macho ways, and his concern for her welfare. She had been uneasy about dating again, particularly someone in law enforcement, and now she had two suitors who were cops. She hadn’t been on an official date with either, but she had spent time with each. Jeff Whitney was strong minded and forward. She knew exactly what he wanted and it made her blush to think about it. With Rick Romero, she had to read between the lines. He was intense where work was concerned, but warm and sensitive around her. A charismatic tenderness, and it unnerved her.
Over the last five years she had spent many hours on a therapist’s couch, delving into the difficulties she experienced after leaving her family and striking out on her own. After a whirlwind courtship in college, she married Dustin Peters, a pre-med student from Delaware.It didn’t take long to discover he was a control freak, much like her father. The marriage ended in divorce, inflicting another blow to her already damaged self-esteem. After that, she threw herself into her career, grasping for every brass ring she could reach. There were few goals she hadn’t yet accomplished; one of them was the ability to see a relationship through for more than a few months. Rick had also spoken about his failed marriage, so they each had a major relationship strike against them. Maybe that was good; they would be less likely to jump into anything without thinking. Right now she was making it impossible for them to enjoy each other’s company. She was mystified as to why he continued to pursue her. On a subconscious level, she had pushed him away every time he moved too close. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? She was pretty sure she had blown all her chances with him.
The sun was setting, bringing with it a mild drop in temperature. A chill ran through her. She was exhausted.
Chapter 24
Jemimah reached into her pocket for a wad of Kleenex and sneezed again. She was allergic to almost everything in the air and it dampened her excitement about spending more time out on the Indian ruins. The juniper and chamisa were in full bloom and the winds pushed and dragged their pollen into every corner. It was an hour past dawn. She waited for McCabe to drive up. Two ravens flew overhead twittering and squawking at her unwelcome presence.
Ten minutes later, a cloud of dust in the distance came into view, with McCabe’s silver Hummer just ahead of it. He drove up to the fence, parked next to her Toyota and waved her over as he unlocked the gate. Tossing his baseball cap into the backseat of the Hummer, he grabbed several battery powered lanterns and a flashlight.
“Okay, Jemimah,” he said. “Let’s get cracking! I can’t wait to see what you discovered.”
They walked up the short incline to the high shallow cave at Medicine Rock. She pushed on the boulder to show him how it moved. McCabe whistled and together they rolled the rock over on its side.
“Unbelievable. I’ve sat on that rock a hundred times. Let’s see what else we can find. Holy smokes, I feel like a kid on a scavenger hunt!” he chuckled.
“Lead the way,” Jemimah said.
McCabe handed her one of his lamps. She followed closely behind him once they descended the rungs of the ladder.
“It’s not so dark here,” she said. “But it will be farther on.” She kicked herself for making such a dumb statement.
Jemimah was giddy as a ten-year-old as they embarked on their adventure. She hoped they would encounter great treasures stored for centuries in the depths of the cave. She held on to McCabe’s belt loop as they trudged ahead, beyond the point where she encountered the rattler. She told McCabe that the effigy that had frightened her was up ahead. She hadn’t known how to describe it, and now he stood two feet from it.
“My God,” he said. “I can’t believe my eyes. This is unlike anything I expected to find on these ruins. I have to show this to Laura.” He snapped a quick photo with his digital camera.
They continued on, McCabe positioning the two lanterns so that one shone forward and the other upward. Jemimah directed the beam of her flashlight downward, the memory of the snake momentarily crossing her mind.
“I think this is where my batteries gave out” she said. “It’s as far as I went before I turned back.” They continued forward, McCabe in a state of total amazement at these new underground surroundings. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“I figure we’re about a thousand feet in,” McCabe said. “It’s hard to gauge, particularly since we’re not moving at a steady pace. The shaft seems to continue on ahead of us. Can’t tell how far it goes into the earth.”
Jemimah walked into a large cobweb and stifled a scream. She hoped McCabe would not think her a scaredy-cat, but the cobweb had caught her off guard. Oh hells bells, she was a scaredy-cat, no denying it. She was glad she hadn’t ventured this far alone.
“Watch your head there, Jemimah. The ceiling drops off a short distance up ahead, and there’s a little bit of an incline.”
They continued at a slow pace. McCabe leaned down to pick up a small brown piece of bone. “A flute!”
Jemimah could detect the excitement in his voice, although she saw nothing exciting about a musical instrument. She doubted the Indians had flutes, but then, what did she know about their culture?
“What would they use a flute for? They didn’t have chamber music, did they?”
“Awesome.” McCabe was kind enough not to give her the you-idiot look. “This little flute was probably used to make bird calls,” he said. “Maybe to woo an Indian maid. This is no time to stop and gawk. I still can’t help wondering why they dug this tunnel. Maybe to hide from marauding enemies? Damn, I can’t wait to get back down here with some real lighting equipment.”
Jemimah shuddered, she almost walked into another stringy web, where a huge black spider was knitting its way toward the ceiling. McCabe swatted with his leather glove and stepped on it, grinding it under his boot.
“Under ordinary circumstances I wouldn’t have done that. I imagine some of these critters have been hanging around in here for a long time, but we can’t afford to be bitten right now,” he said. “Ahead of us, the ground seems to be pretty virginal. No footprints that I can make out. I doubt if anyone has been down here in a long, long time. Nothing has been disturbed.”
They seemed to have walked for a mile. Jemimah felt closed-in. She could feel her heart racing. Was it just from the lack of oxygen? Years ago she visited Carlsbad Caverns in southern New Mexico and walked through the massive caves and tunnels. She remembered the guide assuring them there was plenty of oxygen to go around. Hold that thought, she told herself. She traipsed behind McCabe, using as many mind-calming techniques as she could remember from sessions with her shrink. She was conscious of every breath
. At least she wasn’t alone this time. She wouldn’t have gone this far even if her flashlight hadn’t given out.
“Man oh man, I’m speechless,” said McCabe. “How you doing there, Jemimah?”
She jumped as McCabe’s voice brought her back to the present. “Whew ... all right. I imagine you have a lot of unanswered questions.”
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,” he chuckled.
A few feet ahead they encountered a small alcove that appeared to be about six foot square.
“Half a dozen people could easily stand in here,” he said. “What do you think, Jemimah, shall we keep going? For all we know this tunnel might go all the way to Galisteo.”
“That’s more than five miles,” she said, stifling a need to hyperventilate.
“Unless there are air vents that have been covered up all these years, it’s unlikely that it could go that far,” McCabe said. A mining shaft can go pretty far into a mountain, but this is nowhere large enough for that.”
“It seems to be just high enough to walk upright, though,” Jemimah said.
“Yes, and from the research I’ve done, the Tano were short in stature like many Pueblo Indians. If that were true, it doesn’t account for the tunnel not being much over six feet in height.” There was only about a foot between the ceiling of the tunnel and McCabe’s head.
“Maybe they had to allow for carrying torches?” she offered.
“By gosh, Jemimah, you could be right,” he said.
As they rounded a slight turn in the tunnel, a strong odor assailed them both. McCabe put his arm out abruptly, stopping Jemimah in her tracks and almost knocking her over.
“Jemimah,” he said, raising his voice. “Go back to the entrance and call Detective Romero.”
“What is it? What’s there?” she said, shining her light up ahead. “Oh, my God,” she swallowed deeply to stifle a scream that insisted on emerging from her throat. Five feet ahead they could see several bodies, all seated on the floor, propped up against the wall of the tunnel. They were in various stages of decomposition—no way to tell by their appearance how long they’d been there. The stench was overwhelming. It was all she could do to keep from vomiting. Jemimah stood silent, petrified, as though her legs had suddenly become rooted like a Yucca plant.
“Jemimah,” McCabe said firmly. “Go back to the car and call Romero. Tell him what we’ve found and to get out here, pronto! ”
“You’re not going to stay here alone, are you?” she stammered.
“Well, they are dead,” McCabe said dryly. His long career as a Sheriff in Idaho kept him from reacting otherwise. “Jemimah, do as I ask. I’ll go up a ways and see if there’s anything else. Maybe there’s an exit or, God forbid, more bodies. I know this is a crime scene, but I’m just going to go a little way in and then turn back. My tracks will be obvious.”
Jemimah spun around, feeling the tunnel begin to close around her. Her entire body was shaking, her muscles weak from shock. It had to be like having the lid slammed on your coffin while you were still alive.
Dumbfounded, she raced back through the tunnel. She couldn’t move fast enough. Her knees knocked against each other like castanets shaken by a flamenco dancer. She wanted to barf. She had seen pictures of dead bodies before, victims of the criminals she profiled, but never in a setting like this one, never with so much foul air surrounding them. She was gasping for breath as she saw the outdoor light shining through the entrance up ahead. She scaled the four rungs of the ladder. In her panic, she tripped and lost her footing. She landed spread-eagled in the dirt, skinning the palms of her hands. Momentarily disoriented, she picked herself up. She was still feeling lightheaded as she opened the door of her Toyota and reached for the cell phone in her purse.
She dialed Romero’s number. The phone rang six times and then went to message. “Dammit, Rick,” she said. Where are you?”
She misdialed the office number, took a deep breath and dialed again. Clarissa answered.
“Sheriff’s Department, how can I help you,” she said.
“Clarissa, I need to talk to Rick Romero. Do you know where he is?”
“Whoa, Jemimah. Slow down. He’s between here and the main office,” she said.
“Can you patch me into him?” she said. “It’s urgent.”
“Sure thing; hold a second,” Clarissa said, acutely aware of the urgency in Jemimah’s voice.
She had never heard her in such a state. Her voice normally had a sweet, soothing, velvety tone.
Jemimah waited on the line. She was trembling and her knees were weak, but at least she hadn’t passed out from the shock of seeing the bodies. Thank goodness she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She would have hurled it all over McCabe. The phone beeped intermittently for what seemed like ten minutes, though she knew it was less. Rick finally came on the line.
“Detective Romero here,” he said.
“Rick, I need you to get to the San Lazaro ruins right away,” she said, running her words together.
“What’s going on, Jemimah? You sound out of breath. Are you all right?”
“I’m at the ruins with McCabe,” she said.
“Is he all right?”
“Yes, yes. Listen to me.” Jemimah braced herself on the door of the Toyota. “I can’t explain it now. We found a tunnel. He’s still down there. There are bodies, and it’s pretty awful. Please hurry!”
“On my way. Get into your car and lock the door. Keep the motor running in case you have to get the hell out of there. McCabe can take care of himself. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” He wasn’t sure she was strong enough to be around the scene she described.
Romero hung up the phone and radioed headquarters. He instructed the dispatcher to get in touch with the State Police and the Coroner. He gave directions to the Indian ruins and then dialed Detective Chacon’s number.
“Artie, you’re not going to believe this,” he said. “I just got a call about some bodies discovered out at the Crawford Ranch Indian ruins. Meet me there.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Chacon said, throwing his car into overdrive and pulling a u-turn in the middle of the highway.
Chapter 25
A seasoned law enforcement veteran, McCabe tied his handkerchief over his nose and mouth and walked past the bodies. What else lay ahead? Jeezus, could there be more bodies? He shined the light at the cave floor, seeking out crannies and nooks. He was tempted to plunge forward a short distance to see what else might turn up. He would only take a moment, and then he’d head back and check on Jemimah. Women put up a strong front, even when they were trembling like mice pursued by the butcher’s wife.
McCabe continued another hundred feet down the tunnel then stopped. He heard muffled voices, words indistinguishable. He turned one lantern off and pointed the other just ahead of his feet, dimming it to cut down the radiance. Walking slowly a step at a time, he viewed what he thought was the end of the tunnel. A hint of daylight seeped through. At the end of a small ramp, he eyed a metal grate. A mound of hay on the ramp was visible. Some had spilled through the grate.
McCabe thought he recognized Charlie Cooper’s voice, standing fairly close to the grate, arguing with a woman. He still could not make out what they said. He was careful to not make any noise. The voices became increasingly muffled as they moved away from the opening where McCabe stood.
* * *
“I told you already, Brenda; I’m cutting out of here as soon as I get my shit together.”
“Come on, Charlie. Let me go with you. What’s it going to hurt? You know how I feel about you.”
“Look, it’s not going to work out. It’s over between us and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Charlie, at least let me take you to the airport. You can’t leave me without transportation. My car’s on its last legs. I’ll take good care of it.”
Better that the cops don’t find his car at the airport right away, Charlie thought. Maybe she could sell the SUV and send
him the money. Oh, shit. Why was he being so stingy? He didn’t need the few hundred dollars it would bring.
“Oh, hell, all right,” Charlie said. “At least that way I won’t have to abandon the car at the airport. Once I jump that bond, there will probably be a bounty hunter on my trail.” Of course, they’d end up putting the screws to Brenda and she would tell them everything. No point in making it easy for them. But at least he’d have a few days head start.
They returned to the house. He gathered up his backpack and locked the door to the ranch house; then they both climbed into the SUV.
* * *
Back in the tunnel, McCabe waited for a few minutes before trying the grate again. It still wouldn’t budge. He heard a car engine start up and then silence. He wound his way back out to the other end of the tunnel. By the time he reached the entrance and climbed the ladder into the sunlight, he, too, was shaken and exhausted. Shielding his eyes from the brightness, he saw Jemimah, huddled in her car.
“Did you reach Romero?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his face.
Jemimah pulled a bottle of water from the ice chest and handed it to McCabe. “They’re on their way.”
“That was pretty intense. Thanks.” He took the bottle and sat down on the running board.
Chapter 26
Romero sped down Highway 14, sirens and lights turned off. He cursed as he turned onto the dry washboard road, which seemed to slow him down more than usual. His vehicle fishtailed as he pushed forward, but he persisted. As he drove under the railroad trestle, the going was smoother, but the curves slowed him down almost as much as the rough road. Finally, just ahead of him he could see McCabe’s Hummer and Jemimah’s SUV. He parked a short way up the hill by the fence to make room for the other law enforcement officers who would be arriving soon.
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