Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1

by Lois D. Brown

Lance Arden?

  Where had Maria read that name before? Had it been in the piles of documents she’d scoured dealing with the Hayward’s case? Or was it someone she knew from when she lived here in her youth?

  Looking over the rest of the marker, she saw that Lance had been born in 1898, died in 1961. Maria definitely hadn’t known him when was alive. She shook her head and gestured with her hands that she didn’t understand. What was Acalan trying to tell her?

  The Aztec ghost stood up and walked to another tombstone that was close by. Maria followed. On this headstone was engraved the name Randy Birch. It too was familiar.

  Why couldn’t she remember where she’d seen these names, and why were these deceased men important to Acalan?

  “Acalan?”

  The ghost nodded.

  “Why are you showing me this?”

  Acalan grunted. He clenched his fist and raised it into the air as if he held something in his palm. He made a grimace and, as if he were a mighty hunter taking the life of a captured prey, he plunged it into Maria’s back.

  There was no real danger, but it was nerve-racking all the same. Maria shuddered, thinking of the Aztec ghost who had tried to kill her at Three Lakes. “Are you stabbing someone?” It was like playing a game of charades but with an ancient Indian warrior.

  Acalan made another of his strange “ahhh” noises and repeated the action. He fervently pointed to the names on the grave markers and repeated the pantomime.

  It was clear he was pretending to stab Maria in the back. But why? Whom did she know who was stabbed in the back? —

  Freddie Crystal!

  Freddie had been stabbed in the back and left to die in the cave. The knife had been of pre-Aztec origin, at least Jim had said so. Was Acalan saying he had killed Freddie?

  “Did you stab Freddie?” Maria asked.

  Acalan shook his head and pointed again to the names of Lance Arden and Randy Birch.

  No, he was trying to tell her these men had killed Freddie Crystal. Maria knelt down and examined the tombstones again. Who were Lance Arden and Randy Birch? And why did Acalan think it was important to show their names to her?

  She knew she’d recently read both of their names—but where had it been? An image of Sue Tuttle came into her mind. It was time to use a lifeline and phone-a-friend.

  Maria stood up, pulled her cell phone out from her exercise bra, and dialed the Kanab library. Acalan looked at Maria’s cell phone with curiosity.

  Sue answered right away. “Hello?”

  “Sue, it’s Maria. Do you have a second?”

  “Sure. What do you need, sweetheart? I hope you’re not too upset by the women this morning at the police station. Kanab’s women have always been very active politically. They mean well. Why, do you know Kanab, was the first town in the United States to have an all-female city council and mayor? It was in 1912, and honestly, the women haven’t stopped running this town ever since. I think that’s why—”

  “Sue,” Maria interrupted, “I’ve got to get back to the station, but first I have to figure out where I’ve heard the names of Lance Arden and Randy Birch. Were they in any of the materials you gave me?”

  Acalan leaned in closer, trying to hear Sue’s voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Let me think,” said Sue. “Those names do sound familiar …”

  “Arden died in 1961? Does that help?”

  “Why of course,” Sue exclaimed. “The affidavit. We read it together in my office. Lance Arden is the one who gave his testimony in court that he didn’t know what had happened to Freddie. It was kind of cryptic, talking about some ghost he’d seen in Crystal’s cave.”

  The account flooded back into Maria’s mind. Arden had seen a ghost in the cave in Johnson’s Canyon. Soon afterward he’d gotten sick. A couple of years later Freddie revealed to Arden and some other men that he now knew the real location of the treasure.

  Acalan was telling her Lance Arden and Randy Birch were the ones who had stabbed Freddie and left his body in the cave.

  “Thanks so much, Sue,” said Maria. “It was driving me crazy. I should probably get going—”

  Now Sue interrupted her. “Hold your horses. I want to take a quick look and see if there is anything else about him in this database …”

  Acalan was pulling on Maria’s sleeve, trying to get her to get off the phone.

  “Sue, I—”

  “Oh yes, here’s a few more things. It’s all coming back to me,” said Sue. “The Ardens moved out of Kanab in the early 30s. They lived in the wild for a number of years. Only came into town every few months or so.”

  Maria checked the time on her watch. It was time to head back. The press conference would be starting soon and she had to shower.

  “Now, if I remember right, Lance Arden’s son married a woman named Olive. Those two had a daughter, Bonnie Arden, who married Ronald Mercer.”

  “Mercer,” repeated Maria, “as in the reporter Sherrie Mercer?”

  “Yes, Ronald was Sherrie’s father. He died just a few years ago. I knew him from school. He was a good enough fellow, but kind of strange. After he married Bonnie Arden, he moved out to the “Arden family compound,” as it was called. Ronald lasted a long time out there, but after Bonnie died—heart attack I believe—he came back to Kanab and brought Sherrie with him. She was seventeen and an only child. She found herself a job at the paper and has worked there ever since. She’s the only descendant of Lance Arden still alive.”

  Now Maria’s interest was piqued. “Sherrie Mercer was the great grandchild of Lance Arden?”

  Acalan continued to pull on the sleeve of Maria’s t-shirt.

  “That’s right,” said Sue. “These small towns are full of families that have lived here for a hundred years.”

  That gave Maria an idea. “Could you check and see if Randy Birch has any descendants I might know too? Just for fun.”

  “Absolutely. It will take a minute.”

  Maria stayed on the phone as Sue hemmed and hawed in the background. A beep from an incoming call sounded. Maria glanced at the number. It was from the attorney general’s office. She needed to answer it. Hopefully nothing was wrong with the warrant they’d issued for Whitney that morning.

  Maria switched calls. “Hello, this is Chief Branson.”

  “Hi Chief, this is Annette Rogers. I wanted to call and let you know we identified that cell phone number you wanted us to track down. It had something to do with the Hayward’s case?”

  “Yes?” Maria’s pulse quickened. It was the mystery number from the mayor’s phone bill. The last person he’d spoken with before hiking to a cave and getting himself shot in the back.

  “It belongs to a woman named Sherrie Mercer. That’s spelled, M … ”

  The woman’s voice drifted in the background as Maria’s thoughts whirled. Sherrie had called the mayor that afternoon, not Whitney. Of course, there were plenty of legitimate reasons for why Sherrie might have called Mayor Hayward. Maybe she’d needed a comment on a story or wanted to check if he’d be at a press conference. But there was another reason Sherrie could have called him to meet her at the cave in the Moquith Mountains. Maybe it was the mayor and Sherrie who’d been having an affair?

  Completely forgetting about Sue on the other line, Maria hung up the phone and shoved it into her pocket. Acalan stood at her side, arms folded across his chest, perturbed to have been ignored for so long.

  Maria ran her hand through her pony tail. Her mind struggled to put everything together. “Did Lance Arden kill Freddie Crystal?”

  Acalan nodded and pointed at Randy Birch’s marker as well.

  “And Randy too?”

  Acalan’s nodded again, looking relieved.

  The phone in Maria’s pocket beeped. A text had come in. It was from Sue. Oops.

  Dear Maria, You must have hung up the phone. In any case, there is a descendant of Randy Birch who you know. Darrin Hayward, our late mayor. He was Birch’s grandson. With love, Sue.
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  Sherrie Mercer and Darrin Hayward were connected through Lance Arden and Randy Birch. Had Sherrie and the mayor known they were both descendants of Freddie Crystal’s friends? Had both of them heard stories about the cave from their parents and grandparents? Why had Mayor Hayward returned to the same place where his grandfather had murdered a man? And then for the mayor to be murdered there himself!

  Maria had so many new questions. A new scenario quickly evolved in her mind.

  Emily Hayward, disgusted by her husband who along with Senator Emerson was stealing money from an organization to help children, convinces Whitney to blackmail the mayor. At the same time, Sherrie, who has shared many phone calls with the mayor, meets him at the cave in the Moquith Mountains for an unknown purpose. Maybe it was to find Freddie’s body? Maybe the reporter and mayor were lovers? In any case, something had gone wrong, and Sherrie killed the mayor.

  But there wasn’t enough proof. No juror would believe Maria if she said the reason she knew Freddie Crystal had been killed by Lance Arden and Randy Birch—two men that connected Sherrie Mercer and Darrin Hayward—was because the ghost of an Aztec soldier had told her.

  More and more, Maria was sure she had arrested the wrong person, but she didn’t have enough evidence against Sherrie, yet.

  There was no time to lose. Maria needed to postpone the press conference and go to the cave. There had to be something else there, maybe something that pointed to Lance and Randy as being Freddie’s killers. Hopefully a clue indicating a reason for Sherrie and Darrin to be in the cave together.

  Maria turned to Acalan to ask him if her line of thinking was on the right trail, but he was gone. There was no one else in the cemetery. No Aztec ghost. No headless apparitions. Not one single hallucination. It was just her and a thousand skeletons, all safely buried six feet under.

  It had never felt so good to be alone.

  A crew of filmmakers are…raising funds to send remote operated vehicles, particularly submarines carrying lights and cameras, into the cave. They intend to use their footage in a documentary about Montezuma’s treasure, its hiding place, and protectors. The crew believes there is something down there, and something is protecting it, whether it’s supernatural or explained away by science.

  —KSL News. “Filmmakers search for Montezuma’s treasure in Kanab Pond,” by Celeste Tholen Rosenlof, February 11, 2014.

  Chapter 31

  AT THE HALFWAY MARK on the trail to the cave, Maria realized she’d forgotten to bring anything with her—flashlight, headlamp, jacket, or—

  Her gun.

  How had she forgotten to bring her gun? She’d taken it off for her run and never put it back on again. She’d been too consumed with what she’d learned from Acalan in the cemetery.

  She’d even forgotten the picnic she’d volunteered to make for Rod. And while her running clothes felt good at the moment, in three hours, when the sun set, she’d be freezing. She’d have to make this a quick trip and come back later with real supplies.

  Ryker hadn’t told her for sure when he’d return with reinforcements, but it had better be soon. Rod couldn’t spend the next week out here. Neither could she, though the thought of spending this evening with Rod was exciting. She hadn’t seen him since he’d been at her condo and made her breakfast. But she hadn’t had much time to think about that, not with the arrest and the new information about Sherrie.

  A pang of apprehension tugged at her insides. If Maria had had more experience with guys, she might know better what Rod would be expecting when she arrived at the cave. Should she walk up and plant one on his lips? Or was each new day like starting over again, and she would need to wait for just the right moment?

  Another five minutes and she wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. She’d be with him, and then she’d have to admit she’d forgotten to bring even a morsel of food for his dinner. Even she understood men enough to know that eating was high on their priority list. Maybe kissing him right up front would be best. It might take his mind off his hunger.

  When base camp finally came into view, Maria noticed how deserted it looked after having Ryker’s large staff there cleaning out debris from the cave for the last four days. Sitting in a camp chair under an awning, was Rod. He was reading a magazine—undoubtedly one about cars.

  Feeling a bit awkward, like she was making some kind of grand entrance, Maria picked her way through the rocks on the path. He looked up from his magazine when she was still a good twenty yards away.

  It was time for a crash course in Relationship Management 101, thought Maria as Rod pushed himself out of the chair. He looked hot—in the literal sense of the word. His face glistened with sweat that he tried to wipe off with the shoulder of his shirt. Sweat rings under his armpits were visible from even this distance. Pretty much, he looked exactly how Maria had hoped he would—rugged and strong.

  Her steps became quicker. The dilemma she’d gone over in her mind for the last twenty-five minutes, about whether or not she should kiss him up front or wait for some opportune moment, now seemed completely irrelevant.

  Of course she was going to kiss him, that was unless he kissed her first. He moved quickly toward her, and in seconds her arms were around him, feeling the defined muscles in his back each time he moved. Their lips met midway between the two of them. First there was a quick “hello” sort of kiss that transformed into something much better. Something that made her insides twist with the need to keep him close.

  They stayed in each other’s arms for longer than Maria thought possible without feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The more he held her, the better she felt.

  At last he spoke. “You’re here early.” Then, with a confused look on his face he asked, “Where’s the food? Is this some sort of hide and seek game for dinner?”

  The moment of truth had come.

  “Yeah,” began Maria, “about that. The picnic will be coming a little later this evening. But we can find a granola bar or two in the supplies Ryker left to tide us over.”

  A deep laugh rumbled from Rod. “You forgot to bring the picnic? Never again can you tease me about bran flakes and bananas for breakfast. At least there was something to eat.”

  “I know.” Maria blushed. “I’m an idiot. I forgot everything. I showed up without my gun even. I’m glad I told you to bring yours.”

  Now it was Rod who turned a light shade of pink.

  Maria opened her eyes widely. “Don’t tell me you forgot your gun too? I’m seriously feeling naked without one.”

  “The fact is,” said Rod, “I don’t own a gun.”

  “What?” Maria had never assumed he wouldn’t have one. She’d carried one for so long it was a piece of her wardrobe, like earrings or a watch. “Why did you tell me you did?”

  “I didn’t. You hung up the phone before I could tell you.”

  “Oh.” He was right.

  “Anyhow,” said Rod, “I don’t know why you told me to bring one. I haven’t needed to use anything deadly except for a fly swatter and a can of ‘Off.’ ”

  A man who didn’t own a gun. Hmm. Maria thought about it a minute and decided she could like him anyway.

  “So,” said Rod, “what have you been doing?”

  Maria hit the bullet points of her day. The arrest of Whitney. The visit from Acalan. Sue’s discovery about Sherrie and the mayor’s families. And the attorney general identifying Sherrie as the owner of the mystery phone number on the mayor’s records.

  “Before he left this morning, did Ryker show you what he found in the cave?” Maria asked.

  “Yes,” Rod answered, “and I have to say, that’s the first mummified body I’ve seen. Weird.”

  “I know. And now that I know it was the mayor’s grandfather who helped kill Freddie, I can’t understand why he went to this particular cave. But I’m sure it wasn’t with Whitney. He must have been here with Sherrie. But I can’t figure out why.”

  Rod listened.

  “And,
” continued Maria, “unfortunately, the evidence is stacked against Whitney.” She kicked at the dirt, frustrated. Things weren’t adding up.

  “So what are you going to do?” Rod asked.

  “I cancelled the press conference about Whitney’s arrest to see if I could find any other clues in the cave—something that would point to Sherrie having been inside it recently. I’d better get to it. I could use another set of eyes.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Armed with flashlights from Ryker’s supplies, Rod and Maria entered the cave and began to comb over the entry chamber where the mayor’s body was found. As they worked, every once in a while they would bump into each other and Rod would steal a kiss in the cave’s dim light.

  Maria didn’t mind.

  Ten minutes passed and they found absolutely nothing. Just as Maria had feared.

  “So,” began Rod, “if Whitney is innocent and the murderer really is Sherrie, what do you think happened?”

  Maria thought a moment, giving Rod enough time to answer his own question.

  “I think,” he said, “the families of Sherrie Mercer and Darrin Hayward have been trying to hide the secret of Freddie’s murder for years. My hypothesis is that years ago Freddie brought his friends here, showed them the treasure, and then the two men killed him because they didn’t want to split the treasure three ways. Freddie had no family. He wouldn’t be missed.”

  “I completely agree,” said Maria. “And what if, for some reason, the mayor had decided to spill the beans about Freddie’s disappearance or about the treasure? But let’s say Sherrie wanted to keep him quiet. She knew him well enough to convince him to come to the cave … maybe under some false pretense. When the mayor showed up, there was a fight, accusing words, and Sherrie pulled out a gun and fired. Stranger things have happened.”

  A loud bang behind them made both Maria and Rod spin around. Sherrie Mercer stood behind them, a lantern in one hand, a gun in the other. “That has got to be the most interesting conversation I’ve heard in a long while.”

  So that’s how it sits—45,000 pounds of gold guarded by an army of 8,000 Aztec ghosts, protected by 100,000 endangered snails.