by Chris Eboch
My eyes suddenly focused and I realized I’d been frowning over my thoughts and staring at Danesh’s face without really seeing him. And of course now he was looking at me, his expression puzzled and a little worried. He raised his eyebrows in question. “You all right?”
I nodded. “Fine. Really.” My smile seemed fake even to me. “Just getting tired. I think after this dance I’ll call it a night.”
At that moment, the music ended. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
I glanced around, wondering if I should say goodbye to Maureen and the others, but people were already heading back to the dance floor after their break. No doubt I would see them again anyway, and I didn’t want to get stuck in conversation. I was feeling lightheaded and wanted fresh air.
We walked to my car in silence. I unlocked the door and opened it, then turned to say goodbye. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hesitated, half waiting for something more. I wasn’t sure what.
He asked, “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I didn’t have much to drink.”
“No, but you’re tired. It’s a long drive.”
What would he say if I claimed I was too tired to drive back? Would he invite me to stay the night? I didn’t see anything but concern in his face. I said, “I’m feeling better already, with the fresh air. I’ll put my windows down, and I’ll be fine. Once I get on those washboard roads, I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep if I tried.”
He studied my face a moment longer, then nodded. “Good night, then. See you in the morning.” He stepped away but waited while I started the car and pulled out. I waved as I backed toward the street. He lifted a hand in response and then turned away.
I headed out of town with a strange sense of loss, like saying goodbye to friends at the end of the semester. I guess I was still more used to being around crowds of people than camping by myself.
I tossed my head, rolled down the windows, and turned up some music. One thing for sure, after a day like that, I would get a good night’s sleep.
I wondered if I would dream of Danesh.
***
No such luck. I dreamed of hearing voices in the dark as I searched for something, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to find. I woke at one point, disoriented in the pitch black until I remembered where I was. The trees rustled in a strong wind and the sides of my tent rippled with a soft flapping sound. I squirmed around in my sleeping bag and finally fell back asleep.
When I woke again the sun shone brightly and the morning chill was edging toward warm. I thought I’d slept late but discovered it was barely 7:30. I groaned and stretched my stiff muscles. Staying in bed would have been tempting if the bed were a little softer and I wouldn’t be missing the best part of the day for working. I dragged myself up, scrounged some breakfast, and gathered my gear.
As I headed out of the campground, I saw Robert West sitting at his picnic table by himself. It seemed strange to see him without Lily. I had barely exchanged a handful of words with him, ever, but when he waved I walked closer.
“How are things?” I asked. “Is everyone all right?”
He nodded. “Lily is staying in town with Amanda and the kids. At a hotel. Lily wants to keep an eye on things. But they get nervous with a man around.”
“You know it’s not personal.” I couldn’t blame Lily for wanting to stay involved. Eventually the other woman would have to take responsibility for herself and her children, but she probably wasn’t strong enough yet. “Is she afraid Amanda won’t press charges?”
“Fortunately, she doesn’t have to. The district attorney can prosecute anyway, especially with the witnesses we have and the fact that he pushed me and damaged government property. The police are being great. The only problem is most of these folks will be heading back to other states soon. Lily and I will come back for the trial, if there is one, but they might try to plea bargain just to save the hassle.”
I nodded. As much as I wished my attacker had been caught, I was relieved that I didn’t have to go through a lengthy trial. The thought of seeing the guy again and describing what had happened in front of people made me want to throw up. “I’ll come back, too, if I need to. And let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
I headed to the canyon, still thinking about Amanda and the children. I hadn’t even known their names, still didn’t know the boys’ names. I didn’t even want to know the man’s name. I was glad Lily had taken responsibility for the family. They trusted her, and she would know where to get more help. I really did wish I could do more, but the family needed expert counseling. I doubted sharing my experience would really resonate with Amanda. Still, I took it as a good sign that I could worry about someone else for a change, maybe even imagine myself someday volunteering on a hotline or finding some other way to help.
As I headed for the storehouses, I thought back over the last few days. So much had happened so quickly that I had trouble remembering it all. But I had a nagging feeling more had happened than had been explained. Was that man really responsible for everything? The thefts, sure, and his wife must have been crying my first night. But what about the ghost lights and sounds in the canyon? What would he be doing there?
I remembered the plane and rumors of smuggling and drugs. Had he been involved somehow? I’d try to remember to suggest that to the police when I had a chance, though by now they probably knew far more than I ever would.
The morning passed quickly. I was getting a lot done, despite all the distractions of the previous days. If I finished up sooner than expected, I’d have more time to do some touring of the region. But I was finding myself strangely reluctant to leave this little community. I’d assumed I’d be on my own, but with so few people around it didn’t take long to get involved.
I was sitting on a rock, drinking water and considering a lunch stop, when I heard a hello and saw Danesh coming down the path. He was wearing shorts and a light gray T-shirt that made him look very tan.
I rose and put my hands on my hips. “You know tourists are not allowed down here. Only official people in official uniform.”
He grinned. “I’m hoping your sign does the trick. I have your T-shirt, by the way.”
I sighed. “I was rather enjoying having an excuse not to wear it.”
His gaze roamed over my snug tank top, but he only said, “How’s the work going?”
“Great. Quicker than I expected. Are there any other storehouses I might not have noticed? I’ll probably get the best results from the places most hidden.”
“Actually, yes. You see that path that isn’t really a path? It’s a little tricky, but if you work your way around, you’ll find another storehouse. Probably older than these, from before erosion washed away most of the path.”
“Show me!”
He led the way along the narrow strip of dirt and gravel that wound along the cliff. You could barely tell this used to be part of the normal footpath, since erosion had crumbled the slope to the point where you had to carefully pick out spots large enough to place a foot. I glanced down the slope and felt a little thrill of danger. One misstep, one spot crumbling under your feet, would send you sliding. If you did fall, you’d slide down fifteen feet of rocky slope, but then you’d stop in some bushes. Painful and embarrassing, but not deadly.
Since I was focused on my footing, I almost ran into Danesh when he suddenly stopped. “What’s the matter?” I craned my neck to see over his shoulder.
“I’d swear someone’s been here. The path looks scuffed. Look, a rock has been dislodged and the dust hasn’t settled to fill the gap yet.”
“Are you sure you’re not some kind of Indian tracker after all?” The joke came out before I really considered it, and I held my breath, waiting to see if he would be offended. He gave me a long look over his shoulder, but I thought he looked more amused than annoyed. Was I actually learning to read his face a little? Or was I just guessing with
hope?
Our faces were less than a foot apart. At this distance I could see flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes. I wanted to step back, get a little more distance, but I didn’t trust the path behind me. I dropped my gaze and peered around his shoulder, though I really couldn’t see the path ahead. “I suppose people sometimes sneak around to explore without meaning harm.”
He grunted. “They do, but I wish they wouldn’t. One of these days we’re going to find a body in the bottom of this canyon.”
I thought of Sean coming up this path when I’d first met him. Could he be the culprit? Surely he wouldn’t have gone so far, probably wouldn’t even have noticed the crumbling path or thought to explore past the obvious storehouses. The tracks needn’t have been fresh; in dry weather, it might take weeks for dust to settle enough to cover up marks of someone’s passage. Anyway, I had already scolded Sean, so I saw no reason to mention him to Danesh—especially since that might lead to questions about why I hadn’t said anything earlier, and how well I knew this guy.
He moved forward a few paces. “This is it.”
I crouched to examine the old storehouse. It wasn’t as well preserved as the others. Nothing remained of the clay that would have covered the opening when it was in use. Even some of the blocks had fallen or crumbled. “Wait a minute. That’s odd.” I pointed at three holes that pierced the face of the storehouse, small, deep holes where blocks met. “I didn’t see anything like this on the others.”
Danesh crouched beside me. “I haven’t seen holes like that on this storehouse before. I’m sure they weren’t here last summer.”
“So not ancient then. But surely not natural erosion. They look like nail holes.”
“Some treasure seeker messing around,” Danesh muttered.
“But why? What do they gain by putting holes like that between the blocks? If they were looking for a secret compartment, surely they’d tear the whole thing down. I’m glad they didn’t, and I don’t see why anyone would expect to find treasure here anyway, but holes like this are completely useless.”
We stared at the holes. They were hardly noticeable at a glance, but a glaring affront to the preservation instincts of the archaeologist. “Wait here.” I hurried back to my gear and grabbed my backpack. I hardly noticed the danger of the narrow path as I rushed back to Danesh. I dug out a magnifying glass, crouched, and studied the holes again. Then I dove back into my bag for some tweezers and carefully plucked something out of the hole. “I’d need a microscope to say for sure, but this looks like a thread of burlap or canvas.”
“Nailed to the storehouse?” His voice was more baffled than angry now.
“Looks that way. But I can’t guess why. Unless....” I held the tweezers close to my face and examined the fragment of thread, then held it against a block.
“What?”
“It’s almost the same color as the rock. If it was nailed across the opening, you wouldn’t be able to see it—or anything inside—from a distance. With tan canvas across the front, it would blend right in with the rock.”
Danesh grunted. “Someone hiding their dope stash? Hardly worth coming down here to do that, with so many convenient places around the campground. Maybe one of the New Age gang doing who-knows-what.”
I peered at the interior of the storehouse. “If anything was there, it’s gone now. But if I come up with marijuana in my samples, I’m not going to assume the Ancient Ones smoked it.”
Danesh managed to smile. I pondered the holes and then the voices and lights at the ruins, the note I’d found. Maybe I shouldn’t keep brushing off the odd happenings.
Just as I decided to tell Danesh everything, he spoke. “How about showing me what you do?”
“Sure.” It was nice of him to take an interest. I’d tell him about the weird stuff in a few minutes. I showed him my tools and how I took samples, and we talked about archaeology and research techniques, safe topics that almost let me forget that I was sitting next to one of the sexiest men I had ever met.
I started to feel lightheaded, and I finally realized it wasn’t just Danesh making my heart pound and the world seem off-balance. “Much as I love to talk about this stuff, I’m hungry and I’m baking out here in the direct sun.” I removed my hat and wiped my forehead. Danesh wasn’t even sweating. “You look disgustingly comfortable,” I grumbled.
“I’m hot.”
He had that right, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m just used to it,” he said. “Next time come in spring or fall.”
“Excellent idea. Now I have to go collapse somewhere shady.”
“I brought sandwiches. We could go down by the river where it’s cooler.”
I remembered the cool spray of water and felt better already. “What about Jerry?”
“He already has his. He has to stay in the office, but I’m off today, so I can do whatever I want.”
That’s explained why he wasn’t in uniform. “So you spend your free days out here too?”
He shrugged and got up, not looking at me. “I wanted to see how you felt after last night.”
He was worried about me? Checking up on me? I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or touched. Or did he mean he wanted to see how I felt about him now? No. I had to stop reading into things. Anyway, that was a question I wasn’t ready to answer.
“I feel fine. I slept well after all the exercise yesterday.” I got up, too, and took deep breaths until it didn’t feel like the world was spinning. I didn’t want Danesh to know how badly I was feeling the heat, but I had to get out of there. “So, sandwiches by the river?”
“The Cokes should still be cold. And I got chocolate chip cookies.”
Now this was a man who knew the way to a woman’s heart.
Chapter 14
We headed down to the cool, shady bottom of the canyon and perched on a boulder by the river. Given the size of the rock, we sat only about a foot apart, so I was glad for the distractions of views and food. I kept glancing at Danesh’s hands as he ate. Strong, brown hands and forearms with well-defined muscles. I imagined those hands running over my skin. I told myself to stop thinking about that, which of course meant I couldn’t stop. Oh yeah, the libido was making up for six months of abstinence. My brain might not know what it wanted, but my body had pretty clear ideas. One piece of good news—lusting after Danesh didn’t set off any of my panic triggers. Touching might be a different matter, but at least I could fantasize.
Danesh pointed to a pair of ruined structures perched inside the canyon rim above us. “Have you looked around Twin Towers yet? From here you can see how they’re built on huge boulders.”
“I’ve just walked past. It’s fascinating, though, that they built structures that follow the natural shape of the rock underneath, in addition to their usual round, square, and D-shaped buildings. It’s a surprisingly diverse architectural style for a small group of people.”
“They knew how to work with what they had available,” Danesh said.
“But there’s still so much we don’t know! The Twin Towers appear to be apartment buildings—and that whole concept still floors me—but what about Round Tower?”
“You mean because there’s no doorway on the first floor?”
I nodded. “They must have climbed a ladder and gone in through the roof. That sounds defensive, but we haven’t found anything to suggest a warlike people—few weapons or mutilated bones.”
I noticed that I had used “we,” aligning myself with the archaeologists who had studied here over the years. Even though I had nothing to do with that research, I felt part of it now. “And what did they have to fight for, anyway?” I added. “Not gold or jewels.”
“Water, food, resources.”
“Did they have to defend the tiny spring here from neighboring bands? Or were the thick-walled towers just an architectural style? Did they have some other use?” I shrugged and hugged my knees, feeling the bubble of pleasure that came with questions like these. “That’s what I love
about archaeology. Wondering, guessing, testing. We may never know for sure. Or I might make a new discovery that answers one of those questions.”
“I hope you do. Have you seen the wooden lintels yet?”
“No, I just read about them.”
He rose in a smooth movement. “Come on.”
Bossy. I stayed where I was. When he looked down at me, I raised my eyebrows.
He smiled. “If you’d like to take a look?”
I laughed. “Absolutely.”
We hiked along the river and then headed up a steep path toward the rim. I thought I was in pretty good shape, but I was panting to keep up with Danesh. I hoped he didn’t notice.
He glanced back at me and slowed. “Sorry. We can rest up here on this ledge.”
Of course he’d noticed. “It’s all right. I just—” I took a deep breath. “Somehow I’m not getting quite enough air.”
“It’s the elevation. We’re at over five thousand feet.”
“Oh, that’s right. I mean, I knew that. I just didn’t expect it to make a difference.”
“It’s not as obvious as when you get over eight thousand feet. You’ll adjust, but you might be short of breath for a couple of days.”
“Whew. I thought I was out of shape.”
He turned off the path halfway up the canyon wall, where the cliff formed a natural ledge several feet wide. His glance ran down my body. “You look in pretty good shape to me.” He said it casually, like a fact, with no hint of flirtation, but still I felt my face heating.
“Thanks. I just—I mean, since I stopped jogging, I haven’t....”
“Why did you stop jogging?”
I winced. How had that slipped out?
My first instinct was to blow off the question, make some excuse. I didn’t really want to talk about it, and he didn’t really want to know. When I did talk about the attack, people got uncomfortable. But it was part of me now, and I didn’t think it was healthy for me to hide or ignore it all the time. Plus, maybe this was kind of a test. For me, to see if I could say it. For Danesh, to see how he would react.
