A baby was a dream come true for Rowan. He’d always wanted to be a dad. While Lauren might have her doubts, Rowan was never surer of anything in his whole life. He would do whatever it took to be a great dad. He couldn’t wait to show his son or daughter the world.
* * *
The flight to Mexico City took about three and half hours. He was able to catch a nap once they got to cruising altitude. He’d been lucky that it wasn’t a full flight. He was able to move to the exit row, where he had the row to himself. It gave him more shoulder room, as well as leg room.
As the flight attendants prepared for landing, he shook the cobwebs out of his head. He found his agenda in his carry-on. He took a moment to review it before they landed, so he knew where to go and how to get there.
The FBI had taken care of all his travel arrangements. A courier had delivered his credentials designating him as a special government employee. Agent Miller didn’t think he’d need to show them anywhere but wanted to make sure he had them in case there was any trouble.
* * *
The hotel was impressive, and Rowan couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed in a decent hotel; one that wasn’t a total dive. Most of the time they were roughing it in the jungle, the woods, or the desert. He certainly wouldn’t be sharing his bed tonight with rodents, snakes, frogs, or insects. The Bonvoy Mexico City was a modern hotel in the heart of downtown. The decor was sleek, though Spartan, yet totally comfortable. He stowed his gear, collected his camera, and headed out to see about finding some lunch. He was starving.
“Rowan!” He hesitated at the sound of his name echoing across the expansive lobby. Agent Miller walked towards him in a pair of khaki slacks and a white button-down shirt. He wore a Panama hat and looked perfectly at home with the locals.
“Hey.” Rowan grinned. He was dressed more like Crocodile Dundee. Rowan, in his wrinkled shirt and cargo pants, had the appearance of a worn-out traveler.
“I’m glad to see you got in okay,” Miller said. “I just met with the local authorities. They have given us the authority to follow up on the Wentworth case. I’ll stay in contact with them if we find anything eIse. I came to see if you were here and if you’d had lunch.”
“I am and I have not,” Rowan said. “Know a good place for tacos?”
“I was just going to follow my nose and see what I could find.” Miller tapped the tip of his nose and smiled.
“Sounds like a plan.” Rowan fell in behind him.
* * *
Over the raucous bustle of the street, they discussed their plans for the next few days. Miller wanted to get a look at the original records. “I figure we’ll get a good night’s sleep tonight and start fresh tomorrow,” Miller said. “If we get a chance, there might still be some people who know Santiago Mateo we can interview. Maybe one of them knows what his motives were for the kidnapping, beyond money.”
“Isn’t money the most powerful motive there is?”
Miller chuckled. “True, but the more money they have, the more people focus on themselves. They become less sensitive to the welfare of others. People want money for many reasons... to pay off a debt, to escape their personal troubles, or to live a life they could only dream of. Mateo and his accomplices needed money for something. Knowing that reason might help us understand why kidnapping a girl like Stephanie was their path to fortune.”
“There certainly are easier ways to make a few bucks.” Rowan could think of a dozen or more.
“It’s amazing what people will do to get rich.”
“Everything except work hard for it.” Rowan chortled.
“Man, you got that right.” Miller shook his head.
* * *
With a stomach full of tacos, and a couple—okay, more than a couple—of Dos Equis, Rowan was ready for a late afternoon siesta when he got back to the hotel. A long day of travel had drained him to the point of exhaustion. He was also sweaty and hot and decided he needed a shower to wash away the travel funk before he took a nap.
It was fully dark in the room when he startled awake. He lay in the inky blackness, recovering and allowing himself to drift just beyond the realm of dreams. He lay sprawled out like a starfish across the king-size bed. It was luxuriously comfortable.
With a deep breath, he could feel himself slipping under when a cool hand caressed his cheek. A warm body pressed itself to his side. The familiar hand snaked down his chest and stomach, slipping beneath the sheets. A long, soft leg hooked over his. His whole body chilled.
He started to bolt, but the hand warmed to his flesh. His will was no longer his own. He tried to protest, but she spread herself on top of him. Her hair brushed against his skin. He completely melted, surrendering to the shadowed vision.
Lauren always wore her hair down when she wanted to seduce him. It worked every time. The long raven locks were as soft as a prayer. He inhaled the perfume of her body as he wrapped his fingers in her tresses. He pulled her lips to his. He drank of her sweetness. His free hand slid up her leg to her flank, finding her skin as smooth as cocoa butter. It all seemed so real. A fleeting thought that he was dreaming came and went just as fast.
He knew every inch of Lauren’s body. She knew his. She used that knowledge against him, taking advantage of his fragile state. His body responded to hers as she nuzzled against his neck, nibbling his ear. Untangling his hand from her hair, he reached out in the darkness for her. He pulled her into his arms, hungry with longing. It was a need that had gone unspoken—unfulfilled—for far too long. As his hands explored her flesh, he decided he was dreaming, and he did not care.
But this was not his pregnant wife. This was her body when it was pristine, as it had been some months ago. Her breasts were taut. Her hips were full. His hands found the dimples at the base of her spine. Her stomach, flat.
“Lauren.” He breathed her name through his teeth like a prayer. He pressed his lips to her skin. He needed to hear her voice to be sure it was really her.
“Have you missed me?” She purred in his ear, grinding her hips against his. It was her.
Emboldened by that knowledge, he flipped her over onto her back. He caught her hands and held them over her head as he inspected her in the dim light. “This is a dream,” he said flatly, bowing over her. His lips took her’s in a fever.
Her hips arched to meet his. A hungry groan escaped her throat as she took him. “Then...” she breathed, as he released her hands and pulled her body to the circle of his arms. “... it’s a good dream...”
“A very good dream.” He whispered in her ear.
They hadn’t been intimate since before his last trip to Mexico and probably wouldn’t be again for some time. His need exceeded his control. If this was a dream, he intended to make the most of it, as her body moved with his, and their lips battled for authority over the other. He took what he needed with fervor.
“Oh God!” he gasped, rolling her back on top of him, sinking into the bed. He let her take command, surrendering while he still had some control.
“I needed you too,” she said between the rise and fall of her hips. “I need you... now.”
Release came all too quickly, but it was so satisfying that his body was left trembling. Suddenly, he was cold. And she was gone.
Rowan sat up, startled, breathless and confused. His body still ached from her touch, but he was left with a troubling emptiness he’d never felt. He got up and turned on the light. His knees felt weak. Leaning heavily on the wall, it was everything he could do to regain his senses. He realized he’d just experienced something very real—very disconcerting. He went to the door and found it locked from the inside. He was on the 22nd floor and he knew Lauren hadn’t rappelled from the roof and disappeared just as quickly as she had come.
A long shower wasn’t enough to steady his racing heart or ease the feeling that he’d just cheated on his wife—with his wife—or her doppelgänger if that kind of thing were even possible. She’d said she had come to him in Mexico before. Had she don
e that again? Christ, that woman was something! As he toweled off, he forced himself to chalk it up to an amazing dream spawned by tacos, Mexican beer, and unbearable longing.
* * *
Miller was waiting for him when he arrived in the lobby the next morning. Rowan hadn’t gone back to sleep. He was hungry, grouchy and in need of a cup of coffee. He could use something for his aching head too.
A car waited outside for them. Rowan wasn’t at all talkative as they made the 30-minute commute to the University. Miller carried on a one-sided dialogue the entire way. He went over the list of people they were scheduled to meet with. He covered what he hoped to accomplish with each interview. The longer he talked the more Miller sounded like the teacher on Charlie Brown. And the more Rowan’s head hurt. He was still out of sorts from his encounter the night before and all he wanted to do was call Lauren. Even better he wanted to go home to her.
She had some kind of force over him that made him long for her even when he was just running to the grocery store. Being a thousand miles from her physically made his heart hurt. It was no wonder he was having such erotic dreams about her. It was the draw of her spirit on his. The compass necklaces had been purely symbolic. Neither of them needed such charms for their souls to find one another, even in the darkest night.
* * *
The first meeting of the day was with the Dean of the Archaeology Department, Pedro Alvarado. The man was a stuffed shirt, typical bureaucrat. Clearly, he’d been coached by the University’s legal team and skirted all their questions. He provided few answers.
“We sent Enrique because the rest of the team doesn’t like him.” He finally answered something straight. “He’s old and crotchety. He thinks he knows everything there is to know about the Maya.”
“We needed someone who knew everything about the Maya,” Rowan said. “Old and crotchety... well, not so much.”
“The man always smelled of moth balls and cat piss.” the Dean added. “But... he didn’t deserve to die; not like this.”
Clearly, the man was moved. Whether or not anyone liked the Professor, they felt his loss. “What was the rest of your archaeology department doing that you couldn’t have sent them to work with us?” Rowan asked. It was the only question he cared about.
“The goings-on at Chichén Itzá were just a minor annoyance, really. We sent a team, but we had other priorities. We made an exciting discovery near Tikal. A hidden pyramid was uncovered using LIDAR satellite mapping. It took us six days to hike into the jungle, just to reach the base of it, it was so overgrown. You wouldn’t believe the size of it. It puts the El Castillo to shame.” Rowan’s brow lifted. He sat back in his chair. “Well, that probably was more important than the end of the world.”
“We knew the world wasn’t going to end. We’re educated people, Mr. Pierce. Surely you didn’t buy into the hype.”
“I am very much relieved the world didn’t come to an end. I didn’t expect it to. But now I’m left with more questions than answers. Did you know Santiago Mateo when he went to school here?”
“The name doesn’t ring any bells.”
Miller pushed his picture across the desk. “It would have been 2002 or so.”
“Well, I’ve only been here since 2005. I wouldn’t have known him,” he said before looking at the picture.
“But you watch the news?”
“I prefer to read.” The scholar finally looked at the picture, and Rowan noted a glint of recognition in his eyes.
“What?” Rowan asked.
“That’s DeLaFuentes’s research assistant,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “He quit when DeLaFuentes refused to take him along. We figured he ran off with one of the other professor’s lab assistants. She hasn’t been into work since about that time.”
Rowan looked over at Miller. “Coincidence?” Miller asked.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Rowan said.
Miller turned back to the professor. “Has anyone talked to either of them? Since the night of the so-called apocalypse?”
Alvarado got up and went to his file cabinet, pulling out two files. He came back to the desk and opened the first one. “Matt Iago, that’s the name he was using.” He pushed the file over to Miller, while he opened the second one. “Ria Flores-Cortez,” he said. “Dr. Soto’s research assistant.” He pushed that file over too, and sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “We suspected someone was skimming antiquities from the warehouse and selling them on the black market. It now occurs to me that nothing’s gone missing since those two ran off.”
“You think they were selling antiquities?” Rowan’s brow lifted.
“We have thousands of artifacts and there’s only one piece DeLaFuentes has been working on for the past year, but he’s signed out over 100 artifacts for examination. I can only assume that was Iago. But some of the missing artifacts were signed out by Soto, Haas or some of the other professor’s or their assistants.”
“What was the artifact DeLaFuentes was working on?”
“An ancient Maya Codex,” he said. “It’s called the Grolier Codex.”
“You have the Grolier Codex here?” Rowan’s brow shot up as he leaned in.
“You’ve heard of that?” Miller turned from the file.
“They found it in a bar,” Rowan said. “I can’t believe it’s here.”
“Would you like to see it?”
Rowan’s jaw dropped. “Could I?”
Alvarado made a phone call. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting down the hall. It shouldn’t take but a minute. By then, the archivist should have the document here for you to see.”
“Of course,” Rowan glanced at his watch.
“Missing artifacts, missing lab assistants, and a murdered professor,” Miller thought out loud, pushing Iago’s file over to Rowan. “Do you think DeLaFuentes caught them and they killed him to keep him from ratting on them?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Rowan said. “But something doesn’t add up.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if they killed him and then ran off, doesn’t that make them look guilty automatically?”
The professor came in, and Rowan recognized at once something was wrong. “What is it?” He asked.
“It’s gone,” Alvarado’s voice cracked, and he paced behind his desk. “The codex... it’s not in DeLaFuentes’s office, and its not in the archive.”
“Have you reported any of the missing artifacts to the police?” Miller asked.
“No,” he said. “We didn’t have enough evidence.”
“I’m going to need a list of everything that’s missing. Go ahead and call the police, it’s their jurisdiction. I can coordinate with them.”
Alvarado balled up his fist, his color rising. “Late bloomer, indeed!” His fist pounded the desk. “I knew that guy was too old to be a lab assistant!”
* * *
Three more interviews followed, and by the time they sat down for a late lunch in the student commons, Rowan was more than a bit irritated. It showed. “What’s eating you, friend?” Miller asked.
“I can’t help but think we’re wasting our time,” he said. “Whether or not the missing artifacts are related to our investigation is still secondary to what happened to Stephanie Wentworth, though it does make me all the more determined to find Mateo.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he said. The two were silent for a few moments. “I’m with you, I don’t think any of this is coincidence.”
“I think we need to go to Mérida and talk to the people at the hospital there,” Rowan said. “We need to find out what happened to Stephanie. We need to find her.”
“Think she’ll lead us to Mateo?”
“I think it’s our best chance.”
Miller considered this for a few minutes. “I’ll check with the airline and see when the next flight to Mérida is.”
“God, I wish we’d flown the last time I was here,” Rowan said, tipping back his bottle of C
oca-Cola, draining it.
“Why didn’t you?”
“It surprises people how tight the budget is when you’re working on cable. It was cheaper to drive.”
“Well, don’t expect anything fancy on the government’s dime. We won’t be flying first class.”
“As long as the plane isn’t a bucket of bolts, I can promise you it will be better than some of the planes I’ve had to fly in.”
* * *
The Range Rover they rented at the airport in Mérida was one of the nicer rentals Rowan had gotten lately. It had four-wheel drive which would be handy if the skies grew any darker. The air smelled damp. There was a chance of rain. Rowan could only hope it would stay south of them.
Their first stop was a check in with the local authorities. Miller and Rowan were introduced to a detective named Phillipe Gutiérrez. “How may I help the American Federales?” He asked, jovially, as they were seated in one of the interrogation rooms. Rowan inspected the surroundings and was immediately taken back to Peru. He’d been in a room like this before and was amazed at the similarities.
Miller pulled out the photos of Stephanie Wentworth he’d printed up and pushed them across the table, giving the detective the whole history.
“It’s my understanding you’re working the murder of a scientist named Enrique DeLaFuentes?” Miller asked.
“Yes,” he said. “But we haven’t had any decent leads.”
“What can you tell us about the murder of Dr. DeLaFuentes?” Rowan finally asked. He’d allowed Miller to brief the detective, but he was anxious for answers to his questions too. Unlike the University staff in Mexico City, this Detective was extremely helpful. He answered every question the US Federal Agent and his assistant had. He pulled files and shared the records freely. The detective admitted they had no suspects, and no motive. The real doctor still had his wallet in his hip pocket. “He had the equivalent of 300 US dollars in it, and nothing appeared to be missing from the vehicle.” He admitted it was likely to be a senseless attack by the local drug cartel. Poor Dr. DeLaFuentes had been caught in the crosshairs.
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