“I agree. I was going to say that a woman wouldn’t have the arm strength to row into the cove, but looks can be deceiving. Especially when murder is involved.”
“Crime of passion. Rage can make a person stronger than usual,” Kitty said to herself.
“This took a bit of planning. And it seems very ritualistic.”
“As in Mayan rituals? Not really.”
He frowned down at her. “He was on an altar, a knife through the heart.”
“Human sacrifices were always stabbed here,” she placed a hand directly below his ribcage, “then the knife was forced upward, making a hole large enough for the priest to reach in and drag out the intact, still-beating heart. It was the most important part of their sacrifice.” She shrugged, dropping her hand. “Maybe that’s what he intended and lost his nerve, but I think he would have started farther down.”
“We’re looking for someone who isn’t too concerned about being historically accurate, then. And I guess we can be glad it was a nice, clean stab wound.”
Leander went back to taking more photos, using his foot as a reference. The dog prints showed a large dog had jumped from the hole and landed easily, leaving nothing more than the most generic tracks. The waves crashed into the rocks outside the cover and the sound echoed eerily into the cave.
“Were there any fingerprints inside?” she asked.
“Not where the body was found.” He looked up. “You shouldn’t know that.”
“I’ll forget I ever heard it, if you forget what I just told you about Mayan sacrifices,” she said. Chica was staring out at the waves. “I think we should go.”
They walked as close as they could to the rocks and then waited for the water to recede.
“We’re going to have to run for it,” he said.
Kitty was already pulling her hood up and tying it securely under her chin. She tucked her phone into the waterproof pocket, zipped it closed, and grabbed Chica’s collar. “Ready.”
For a moment, he looked as if he was going to say something else. She met his eyes, one pale green like the ocean and one a bright turquoise, and waited.
“I shouldn’t have brought you down here,” he said.
“The chief can rule me out as soon as we get back―” A wave rushed up near them and she stepped back from the water.
“No,” Leander said, raising his voice above the howling wind. “I shouldn’t have brought you down here in this weather. It’s too dangerous.”
She was touched. It was a little too late to be apologizing for putting her in danger, but she appreciated the sentiment. It had been a very long time since anyone had worried about her getting hurt. She inched toward the entrance of the cove as the water receded. “I slept in the same house with a murderer last night and I’m still alive. Don’t worry about me.”
At that moment, the ocean seemed to take mercy on them, pausing its raging urge to fill the cove. Grabbing her hand, Leander yelled, “Now!”
They sprinted for the edge of the rocks, Chica outstripping them as naturally as a thoroughbred. As they turned, they were running directly into the wind, staring down the crashing waves.
Just get around the corner and we’ll be safe. Her legs burned as she lurched and slid. She had never been a very athletic person, and running on wet sand wasn’t making her any faster. Kitty saw a wave loom high in her peripheral vision and knew she wasn’t going to make it.
She shook off Leander’s hand and yelled, “Go!”
He yelled something she didn’t catch, grabbed her hand again, and yanked her forward. A split second later, he pivoted to one side as the wave roared over them, trying to shield her with his body. Kitty had one last moment to suck in a breath of air and turn her head, eyes searching desperately for Chica. Her best friend was standing on the beach far ahead and that gave her comfort. She would be safe.
Then they were engulfed, the ocean throwing their bodies into the rocks like rag dolls tossed by a careless child.
Chapter Seven
People living deeply have no fear of death.
― Anaïs Nin
I’m drowning.
No, that wasn’t quite accurate. She was being choked to death. Kitty clawed at the neck of her coat, fruitlessly searching for the strings she’d tied just minutes before. The hood had pulled tight, cutting off her air supply as she tumbled under the wave. She thought she felt Leander beside her and reached out, only to find sand.
Sand. Twisting her body, she tried to reorient herself, her lungs burning. All she could see was dark water. Her knee collided with the ground and she forced both feet downward, only to be pulled under once more. Her hood wasn’t just tight, it felt as if her coat was being ripped from her body. The zipper was tearing against her chin. She must be caught on something, a piece of driftwood in the sand.
Dismay passed through her. Chica was safe, but who would take her in? Her brother in Ohio mailed a Christmas card every year and she’d never seen a dog in the photos. Maybe Tavish would make an exception and let Chica stay on board the ship. Nancy would take good care of the shop and the cats. She was glad she’d written up a will the year before.
As her vision blurred, Kitty felt at peace. Mostly. She had a feeling she was missing something important. It was too bad that she never found out what Leander was hiding. He was the most interesting person she’d met in a long time.
She let the rushing tide pull at her limbs and relaxed into the water. She’d done her best to follow the commandments and do good. She was sorry for the things she’d done wrong and hoped she went to heaven. On second thought, some people said dogs didn’t go to heaven, so she hoped she ended up wherever they went.
Her legs bumped against the sand. It didn’t even hurt anymore. This was what Jace felt. Peaceful. Calm. He hadn’t deserved what had happened to him, even if he really had been a big jerk.
The water receded for a moment, but she was still being pulled backward against the ground. The wind hit her face and she tried to suck in a breath. Her lungs weren’t working. Reflexes kicked in and she fought to flip over, grabbing at her hood one more time and twisting away the waterproof fabric that covered her mouth. The pressure suddenly relented and Chica barked directly into her ear.
Opening her eyes, she saw a soaking wet German Shepherd standing over her. The whites of Chica’s eyes were showing and her teeth were bared.
“Good girl,” Kitty whispered.
Another wave washed over her and she crawled toward the sand, searching the shore for Leander. “Where is he? Did you pull him out first?” She knew that was a silly question. Chica would always come for her first. They were a team.
Struggling to her feet, she called desperately into the wind. No answer.
Chica barked and sprinted toward a black shape tumbling onto the shore. He looked like he was keeping his head above water, which meant he was still breathing. Kitty ran as fast as she could through the wind and pouring rain. Her sodden clothes felt like a suit of armor.
Grabbing his arm, she pulled, and Chica took hold of his shirt in her teeth, ripping it in long strips. He’d lost his jacket, or shrugged it off. Collapsing onto his hands and knees in the sand, she realized he’d lost a shoe, too. He retched, spitting out saltwater. His breaths were ragged, as if his throat was coated with sand.
After a few moments, he looked up at them, his white forelock plastered across his brow. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He reached out a hand and rubbed Chica’s ears. “I saw her run into the sea for you. Good job, Chica. Good girl.”
Later, Kitty would blame her reaction on nearly dying, but at the moment, all she felt was surprise and gratitude, and an overwhelming love for the universe.
“She is. She is a good girl.” Hugging her tight, she kissed Chica all over her furry face, and then promptly burst into tears.
The walk back up the steps to the parking area took much longer than it had going down. The wind howled around them and the rain had turned into a malevolent force. Leander’s mis
sing shoe didn’t hamper them, but with his ripped shirt, he looked a lot more the worse for wear than she did. Of course, Kitty couldn’t see herself, so that might not be accurate.
“I’m sorry about your seats,” she said as they got into the SUV, both collapsing gratefully into the soft fabric.
“Embassy car,” he said, coughing raggedly. He reached out to touch her hair, pushing it back from where it rested against her cheek. Kitty pulled back, confused.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, dropping his hand. “Looks like you took a hit right near your temple.”
“Oh.” She hurriedly flipped down the passenger mirror. Nice to know that almost dying didn’t cure her of acting like an awkward teenager. And now that she’d gotten a look at herself, she knew her assessment of who looked worse had been wrong. She looked like a drowned rat who’d lost a fight. Several fresh and purpling bruises bloomed along the side of her face, and blood was trickling from a wound under her hair. There was sand caked in her nose and around her eyes, and a large scrape under her chin that must have come from the zipper when Chica had yanked her out of the ocean by her hood. She picked a large blade of seaweed from her tangled hair.
“I’m glad I left my purse in the car,” she said. “That book is a first edition Dickens. What a tragedy that would be.”
“You aren’t as worried about losing your phone?”
“No. And I still have it.” She unzipped the waterproof jacket pocket and retrieved her phone. It looked all right despite the beating she’d taken. She pushed the button and the screen glowed brightly in the dim light.
“Hallelujah! You’ve got the pictures.” Leander grinned at her. “We didn’t risk our lives for nothing after all.”
Cranking up the heat, he pulled out of the parking area and headed back the way they had traveled.
“My group will be wondering where I am,” she said.
“I thought of that. Looks suspicious, doesn’t it? We’re all heading to one house, but suddenly you disappear. If we hadn’t survived, I’d be the prime suspect in your murder.”
“More like I’d be blamed for both murders. Tour guide goes insane, stabs one in the heart, pushes another into the sea. Clearly, you struggled and managed to bring me down with you, thereby saving the rest of the people on my madman’s list.”
“You’ve got what it takes for detective work,” he said.
“A wild imagination?”
“A devious mind.”
She rather liked the sound of that. “Well, if they were trying to convict you for premeditated murder, they’d have to prove that you intended to get me in this car with you,” she said.
“Hmmm.” He nodded but she noticed his cheeks had gone a little pink.
“You did? Why?”
“No. I― I didn’t know it would be you for sure. I just saw that the police van was one seat short with the two escorts. I didn’t bother to find another because I figured I could learn quite a bit from the person separated from the group. People tend to talk a lot more when there’s no one to correct them.”
She understood the idea, but it would have had to be a hearing person or there wouldn’t have been much conversation.
He paused at the four way stop and said, “The storm is getting worse by the minute. Maybe that’s why the chief never showed up.”
“When do they start closing businesses and offices?”
“There was a category four storm here about eight years ago and everything closed a few days before. As far as I know, this is still category two, unless something changed and I didn’t hear about it.” He looked grim. The road ahead was covered with several inches of standing water.
“Where are you staying? Will you be able to get back?”
“On the other side of Tulum. I arrived early this morning for a meeting and then got the call about your tour group.” He glanced down at his shredded, soaked shirt and sand-caked pants. “Good thing my bag is in the trunk. At least you won’t be spending the night with the murderer without police protection.”
She wanted to thank him, but also wanted to point out that unless he was going to stay with her in her room, she was still in danger. But it was a comforting thought despite all of that.
The car hit a pothole hidden by the flooding and they lurched against their seatbelts.
“I’m sorry,” he said, slowing slightly.
“Not your fault.” Kitty felt as if someone had punched her in the chest. She wondered what bruises she’d discover in the shower. If she got a shower. Maybe the water and electricity would be out when they arrived. That would be perfect. She looked like she’d been swallowed by the ocean and spit back out, while Chica… Well, wet German Shepherd was never a good smell on the best days. Add in some seaweed and saltwater, and the SUV might never be quite the same.
She was suddenly so tired. Leaning her head back against the headrest, she closed her eyes.
“Hey, keep talking to me,” Leander said. He reached out and took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers.
“Is this my unofficial interrogation?” She was teasing, but she really was exhausted. If she could just rest for a few minutes…
“Kitty,” he said, his voice urgent.
“Yes?”
“I think you might have a concussion.” He was shaking her arm now. “You’ve got to stay awake.”
“My head doesn’t hurt. It’s just been a long day.”
To her surprise he was pulling over and switching on the overhead light. “Look at me,” he said. “Let me see your eyes.”
She obliged, leaning forward and staring at him, eyes wide. Even in the yellow light, the bright turquoise blue of his right eye was mesmerizing. She hadn’t noticed before, but the green of his left wasn’t a solid, pale green, either. It had a patch of darker color near the bottom. She leaned closer, trying to see clearly.
He sat back, pushing a hand through his hair. “Your pupils are fine, as far as I can tell. But try to stay awake.”
Kitty wanted to apologize for staring, yet again. She could spend another five minutes looking at his eyes, but that hadn’t been the purpose of pulling over in the middle of a hurricane. Settling back into her seat as he pulled back onto the road, she thought of what it would be like to be born so… beautiful. He was, really. Not just the mismatched eyes, but the streak of white hair combined with a traditionally handsome face. She didn’t look any different than a dozen other brown-haired women standing in line at the grocery store, but he… He got triple takes.
Her ex-fiancé was a very handsome man. Women used to stop what they were saying just to watch him walk by, as if their mouths couldn’t work while they eyes were taking him in. Kitty now wondered if that had given him the sense of freedom to betray her the way he had. Good-looking people weren’t held to the same standards as everyone else. They got to cheat, lie, steal… Regular people like herself had to follow the rules. Maybe that was why she shied away from Jorge in all his dark handsomeness. He seemed to be a good person, but a girl could never tell― until it was too late. Poor Mrs. Van Horn had believed Jace, and still did, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
Leander’s question about what Jace had wanted floated back into her mind. She wasn’t sure, mostly because she hadn’t really wanted to find out. The few days she’d seen him on board, he’d spent all his time at the pool. Well, not all his time. Jace had been up to something on the boat and it wasn’t just chatting up girls in bikinis. Kitty thought of the man in the red polo shirt and wondered if she could find out who he was. He’d been the only man she’d ever seen Jace talk to voluntarily.
“Still with me?” Leander asked.
“Just thinking about Jace and his motivations.”
“Some people are a mystery,” he said.
“And some are very easy to read.”
He looked at her. “Anybody in particular?”
“Ashley and Eric. Elaine and Penny. I’m not saying they didn’t murder anybody. I’m just saying they seem pretty s
traightforward.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think Elaine or Penny rowed a canoe into that hole in the wall during high tide.”
“I agree. Even Elaine and Penny and Toto all together.” She frowned out at the rain. “Someone young and fit. Maybe one of the teens, if they were really afraid of losing their inheritance?”
“Jace had a bite on his leg,” he reminded her. “Someone brought their service dog along.”
“Right.” She leaned her head back again. Maybe she did have concussion. She really wasn’t thinking clearly. It was terrible to try and distance herself enough to think any of her tour group being evil enough to knife another human being through the heart.
He made another turn and the car crept through a narrow street lined with large houses. The jungle pressed in on all sides. It was probably beautiful on a sunny, calm day when leaves and vines were whipping through the air. The Sian Ka’an biosphere was one of the most biodiverse areas in the world. Toucans, jaguars, flamingos, ocelots, howler monkeys, crocodiles, pumas… the list went on and on. Most locals preferred to live nearer the center of the city where there was less chance of being eaten by a wild animals but out here, it was clear they had built the houses to not only withstand the hurricanes, but to keep out wild animals, too.
“I just hope it was something personal, and not anything related to any of the rest of us,” she said.
“But it might be,” he said.
“Because of the money? There are a few Van Horns with service dogs to look at, I suppose.”
“And spouses.”
She considered that for a moment. “If we’re saying a service dog could be led out into a storm by a spouse, then we should put the Van Horn boys back into the mix.”
He nodded. “But you forgot someone.”
“I did?” Kitty ticked the guests off on her fingers. “Unless you mean Manuel or Señora Gomez or Juanita, I think I got them all.”
“Yourself and Chica.”
She pondered that as he slowed the car and turned into a small lane. “But what would be my motivation? I don’t need money. At least, not any more than most people who have to earn their living.”
Murder at the Mayan Temple (A Starling and Swift Cozy Mystery Book One) Page 7
