by Kris Bock
Erin winced and kept her lips shut. Finally Mitchell pulled back, his eyes narrowed. Erin said, “I’m sorry, but my face hurts. And my shoulder, my ribs—please let go.”
He released her and stepped back. “Of course. I’m sorry.” He still managed a smile. “But you will see me again before you leave town, right?”
Hating to lie, Erin said cautiously, “I can’t think of one thing that would make me happier.” More like 100 things. She edged away from him and slid into her desk chair.
“Excellent. Until then.” He waved and left her office.
Erin fired up her computer. Everything looked normal, and her password worked like always. If Mitchell had somehow hacked in, would it leave a sign? Camie would probably know, but Erin figured it didn’t really matter. She didn’t keep personal files on her work computer.
She sighed, glared at her splinted finger, and tried to focus on her grading.
It didn’t take Erin long to finish inputting her grades, even with her clumsy finger. She shut down her computer—triple checking that everything was off—and pushed back from her desk. She unplugged everything and watered her plants, since she wasn’t going to be back for at least a week. She felt half-asleep and realized she wasn’t healed yet. She wanted a nap, but first she went to find Camie.
Erin crossed the campus, smiling at the sight of students lounging on the grass or hurrying along the walks. It wasn’t hard to guess who had finished their finals and who still had a few hours of misery ahead.
She entered the electrical engineering building, turned to the right, and pulled open the door of the machine shop. She heard the murmur of voices over the hum of equipment and searched for Camie among the lathes, drill presses, band saws, and other mysterious pieces of equipment.
She spotted Camie in the welding area, her head bent over a torch shooting flames. A man stood next to her. He had his back to Erin, but with a sinking feeling she recognized the golden blond hair and trim build. Mitchell.
Erin debated backing out the door, but at that moment Camie looked up at her and Mitchell turned. Erin sighed and approached them, pasting on a smile.
“Erin!” Mitchell said. “I didn’t think I’d have the pleasure of seeing you again so soon.”
Camie turned off the torch and put it down. Her face blank, she said, “Mitchell has just been asking questions about the treasure.”
He shrugged and smiled. “I had a little more time to kill, since you weren’t available. I was hoping to make sure you wouldn’t be overextending yourself anytime soon, after your accident.”
Out of his field of view, Camie rolled her eyes. She shuffled back a step and pointed at a piece of equipment sitting on the table. She mouthed the words “The Finder” and then made shooing motions behind Mitchell’s back.
Erin felt her eyes widen, then realized Mitchell was gazing at her, waiting for her response. She smiled and took a step closer to him. “That’s so sweet of you. I hope Camie relieved your fears.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Camie, who was leaning against the broad table in front of The Finder, her arms crossed. Camie’s smile looked about as friendly as a knife to the throat. “I told him everything was on hold until you’re completely better.”
Erin took Mitchell’s arm. “You see, I’m well looked after. And you know I’m not one to take chances.” She tried to lead him away from the welding area, but he held his place.
“I just worry. You’re so delicate.” He smiled and squeezed her hand on his arm. “I worry that Camie might forget you’re not as strong as she is and push you too far.”
Erin ground her teeth but kept her smile in place, though it felt like it was taking every muscle in her body to do so. “I appreciate your concern.” Camie was making strangling motions behind Mitchell’s neck.
Mitchell stroked her arm. “You need someone to look after you.”
No way was she going to answer that one. Her mind scrambled for ways to get Mitchell out of there. Say she was free for lunch after all? She didn’t think she could stand spending an hour with him.
She had to at least get him away from The Finder before he noticed it and started asking awkward questions. Maybe he wouldn’t have any idea what the boxy gadget did, and Camie could make up some nonsense. Erin certainly wouldn’t have known the difference. But Mitchell did work for a mining company, so he might have the technical background to recognize a radar unit.
If he thought her weak, she could use that. She leaned against him with a little moan. “Perhaps I’ve overdone it already today. Can you help me to that stool over there?”
Murmuring sympathy, he did so. At least she’d gotten him across the room.
Erin settled on the stool and blinked up at him in what she hoped was a delicate and feminine manner. “Thank you. Perhaps you could get me a glass of water?”
He turned toward the sink. “Oh, not that,” Erin said. “You know how awful the tap water is here. Full of nasty minerals.” She gave a little shudder.
“There’s a cooler down the hall,” Camie said. “Here, you can use my mug.” She thrust it at him.
“Why don’t you go,” Mitchell said, “and I’ll stay here with Erin. If she faints, I’ll be able to hold her better.”
“Oh no,” Camie said with wide eyes. “I’m not allowed to leave the machine shop unattended when people are in here.”
Mitchell sighed. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Camie hissed, “You batted your eyelashes at him.”
“I did not!” Erin considered. “Did I?”
Camie grinned. “It was great.” She ran across the room, grabbed The Finder, and tucked it into a corner under the table. She crossed back to Erin, her eyes on the door. “He’s definitely acting suspiciously.”
“He was in my office when I got there. Said he wants to talk to me later.” Erin stuck out her tongue. “I’d ask him to take me home, just to get him out of here, but I’m afraid he’d want to help me inside. I don’t want him in my house.” She couldn’t entirely believe that Mitchell was dangerous, that the charming man who had entertained her over dinner might have anything to do with her accident or the burglary. But the thought of letting him in her house made her feel as trembly as she’d been acting.
Camie glanced at the wall clock. “When he came in, he said something about a two o’clock meeting. It’s almost that now.”
The door opened, and the women smiled as Mitchell joined them and handed the water to Erin. She took a sip. “Mmm, thank you. I’m feeling better already.”
“Let me take you home.”
Damn. “Oh, that’s all right. I want to rest here a little longer. Then I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t want to be late for your meeting,” Camie said.
Mitchell glanced at his expensive watch and frowned. “I suppose I could be a few minutes late.” He gave Erin the wide, charming smile she was beginning to hate. “After all, what meeting is more important than your health?”
“Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing ever?” Erin gushed. She realized she had suddenly picked up a fake southern accent and warned herself to tone it down. “I would hate to make you late for an important meeting. I’ll just rest here for a little while. I promise, if I don’t feel well enough to drive, I’ll get a ride home.”
Mitchell frowned at his watch again, glanced at Erin, and sighed. “All right. I’ll call you tonight.”
Damn again. She didn’t want to keep coming up with excuses to avoid him. “I’ll probably go home and take a long nap, maybe just go to bed early. But you go ahead and call. I’ll turn the phone off before I sleep, so you won’t have to worry about waking me.” She gave him a sunny smile, vowing to send his calls straight to voicemail for the foreseeable future.
Mitchell held her gaze for a long moment and then finally, finally, left.
Erin slumped on the stool. “Good grief. I really am exhausted now.”
“You did gre
at. I’d say Mitchell just rose to number one on our suspect list.”
Erin stared at her hands and didn’t answer. She felt tears pricking her eyes.
“Are you disappointed? You didn’t, uh, have feelings for him after all, did you?”
“No.” Erin sighed. “It’s just humiliating. He’s the only date I’ve had in two years. The only man who showed any interest in me, who wasn’t a decade younger and my student or two decades older and married. And all this time, he just pretended to like me because of the treasure? Am I that boring?”
“Hey.” Camie grabbed both Erin’s arms. “You listen to me. You’re way too good for Mitchell, even if he wasn’t a jerk.” She frowned. “I mean even if he was just an ordinary jerk. Trust me. The right man is out there, and he’s worth waiting for.”
Erin sighed again. “Yeah, maybe. And if he isn’t, then I’m better off alone.” She shifted restlessly. “I want to do something. I can’t stand this dancing around, pretending innocence, waiting for something else to happen.”
“So let’s get going. You still want to get out there, right?”
“More than ever. I’ll show him who’s a fragile little flower. I’ll head to Albuquerque tomorrow and get supplies. We’d better not do any suspicious shopping locally.”
Camie nodded. “I’ll let the boss know I won’t be in next week. Tell him I’m driving you to your mother’s, then doing some sightseeing. It will be quiet here anyhow. I’ll smuggle The Finder out tomorrow night.” Camie did a little dance. “We can start on our excursion Saturday.”
“I can’t wait to get away.” Except for one thing. The memory of a pair of blue eyes. It was foolish to think that Drew would show any more interest in her. But Erin was tired of always being practical and sensible. She wanted to be foolish for once. She wanted to let herself dream. Wasn’t dreaming what led them to the treasure? Well, that and a lot of hard work.
She still had to be cautious. She knew that. Drew was on their suspect list too. Then she felt a sudden surge of hope. “So if Mitchell is behind the strange things that have been happening, does that mean Drew is in the clear?”
Camie made a noncommittal noise and paced, frowning. “I don’t know. They could be working together, though I sure didn’t get that impression from the way they were acting at the hospital. Or Drew could be looking for the treasure too, but on his own. I’d say he’s worth further investigation.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Before we head out of town, I think we should celebrate the end of the semester. When’s the last time you were at the Black Dog Saloon?”
Erin grimaced. “It’s not exactly my kind of place.”
“Think of it as a research project. Your job is to find out all you can about sexy helicopter pilots.
Erin laughed. “When you put it that way.... Maybe it is time to close the books and do some fieldwork.”
Chapter 7
The following morning, Erin checked Tiger’s food and water, then started transferring her wallet and keys from her waist pack to a more attractive purse for her trip to Albuquerque.
The doorbell rang. Erin glanced at the clock. 9:30, a little early for a delivery person. It was probably an itinerant worker hoping to sell some yard work.
Unless it was Mitchell. She’d ignored two of his calls the night before. She paused halfway to the door. Surely he would be busy with work. Not that he kept regular office hours, he didn’t actually work at the college after all, but when he was in town he usually had meetings all day. Maybe she should ignore the doorbell, just to be safe.
Tiger was sitting on the windowsill next to the door, looking outside, his tail twitching. A head leaned over and peered through the window above him. Erin jumped. She’d been spotted. But fortunately, it wasn’t Mitchell. She didn’t recognize the man.
She opened the door a few inches, blocking it with her body. “Hello?”
The man was probably about 40, with dark hair and tanned skin, not much taller than she was, but stocky. “Erin Hale?”
“Yes?” She looked for an ID badge, a clipboard, anything that would identify his purpose, but saw nothing. He had on slacks and a dress shirt, but no coat or tie. She glanced at the driveway and noted a silver midsize car.
“I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. May I come in?”
Erin gripped the door more tightly. “No.” To hell with anyone who thought she was being rude. She wasn’t a fool.
The man kept smiling. “All right, we can talk here. I have a proposition for you.”
He paused, but Erin said nothing.
“I represent a group of investors that is interested in treasure retrieval. Word has reached us about your investigation of the Victorio Peak treasure. We’d like to discuss a partnership.”
Erin swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady. “I don’t need a partner.” Just how far had news traveled?
He smiled and spread his hands in a friendly gesture. “Consider the advantages. We’d provide all the funding. Even if your hunt turns up nothing, you won’t be out a single dollar. We’ll provide equipment, technical help. We’re experts in this kind of thing.”
A week ago she might’ve considered the option, set up a meeting with Camie, at least heard what they had to say. It was kind of crazy to think that she and Camie could pull this off alone. They had no idea what they’d find if they did reach the right site. An earthquake could have damaged the cave and blocked the entrance. Earth moving equipment would come in handy then, along with someone who knew how to use it.
But after the last few days, she wasn’t about to trust this stranger. “And what do you get in return?”
“Fifty percent. I’m sure you’ll agree that’s fair. If the treasure really exists, we’re talking about millions of dollars—possibly hundreds of millions. You’ll have more money than you could possibly spend. If we don’t find the treasure, my company loses money, but you don’t.”
“If you’re an expert, you must know that finds on public land belong to the government. You won’t get any money from it.”
“I’m enough of an expert to know that it’s possible to make deals with the government. Sure, they’ll want their share, but there should be enough to go around.”
“I’m not interested in the money,” Erin said. “I’m interested in the history. I want to study the site, not just drag everything away for sale.”
She didn’t trust his smile when he said, “I’m sure we can arrange something.”
Erin was starting to feel lightheaded and had to remind herself to breathe. She’d never had a panic attack in her life, but thought she might be getting close. It was past time to end this conversation. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested. Goodbye.” She shifted to close the door. Tiger let out a rumbling growl from the windowsill.
The man slammed his hand against the door, knocking it into her shoulder. She cried out at the pain and stumbled back a step.
“You should think about it carefully,” he said. “Treasure hunting isn’t work for nice women. It’s dangerous.” He took a step forward, his face a threat. “Is that treasure worth dying for?”
Erin took a shaky breath and straightened. Her voice trembled. “It’s worth fighting for.” She threw her weight against the door, trying to slam it shut. She barely budged it.
He wedged his way into the opening. “You want a fight? You got one.”
Erin shoved against the door, but she knew it was hopeless. She’d never force him back out. Should she run? Scream?
He pushed the door open with a laugh and she backed away. Erin looked around for a weapon, cursing herself for keeping the entry hall so tidy. She turned to run for the kitchen. She had knives there, heavy ceramic canisters full of flour and sugar. And the back door.
He grabbed her arm and jerked her back to face him. He grinned.
Erin tried to remember the lessons from a self-defense course way back in college. She tried to bring her knee up to his groin, but she wasn’t close enough and he just turned hi
s body away.
He had both her arms now, his fingers digging in and holding her elbows to her sides so she couldn’t hit or scratch. She told herself to kick, do something! But waves of dizziness and nausea rolled over her. Her head pounded and pain lanced through her right shoulder, a reminder of the accident.
He twisted her around so her back was to his chest, squeezing her in a bear hug. She tried to kick back at his knees, remembered something about stomping on an attacker’s instep. But he spread his legs wide and pulled her up to her toes. She thrashed but couldn’t get in a kick with any power behind it. “Maybe you are a fighter after all,” he chuckled in her ear.
She couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred. She was going to pass out.
A horrible screech split the air. The man stumbled forward, loosening his grip. Erin didn’t understand why, didn’t try. She brought her head forward and then slammed it back. Pain sliced through her skull but she heard a satisfying thunk and cry of pain from the man. He swore and one arm released her. She twisted and pushed back, breaking his grip, and stumbled across the entry hall until she came up against a wall.
Tiger was hanging on the man’s back, clawing at his neck and cheek and yowling like a banshee. The man swore and tried to reach over his shoulder for the cat. He staggered back toward the open door.
Erin pushed herself onto her shaky legs and stumbled forward. She used both hands to give the man a huge shove.
He stumbled back across the porch. One foot went out over the steps.
He windmilled his arms and went flying. Tiger leaped off and the man hit the ground with a thud.
Erin grabbed hold of the open door for balance. She wanted to collapse and lie there shaking. She forced herself to stay upright, though she couldn’t stop trembling.
The man lay still. Was he dead? Erin felt like throwing up. She hoped he was hurt—badly—but she didn’t want to have killed a man. Nor did she want to explain a dead man on her lawn.
