Mariska hesitated, then started to speak, but then stopped again. What are you doing? Don’t do it.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the bead and tooth she’d been carrying with her for days. Ingrid’s eyes went wide with excitement.
“Where did you get these?” Ingrid reached for the objects, but Mariska pulled them away out of reach.
“Not so fast.” Mariska waited a few seconds while Ingrid refocused on her, rather than the objects in her hand. “I take it you’ve seen these before?”
“What makes you say that?” Ingrid set her jaw in defiance.
“The cloth pouch I found them in had a red strand of your hair in it. So, my guess is you hadn’t seen them since you were quite young.” Mariska paused for a moment. “Am I right?”
A few tense moments passed while Ingrid’s expression changed from defiance to feigned shock, and then settling on acceptance. “Okay, you’re right.”
“Tell me about them.” Mariska held out the objects once again so Ingrid could have a good look, but not touch. Not yet.
“My father told me these bedtime stories almost every night, and they were almost always about the La Brea Woman. When my father dug up her remains, he noticed nine cubes of various colors and a large animal tooth among her bones. He hypothesized that they belonged to her and she must have worn them as a necklace. The beads and tooth have holes bore straight through them…something that hadn’t been observed for this time period.”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Mariska said and then held up the bead. “I also noticed there were tiny indentations on them which after going to the Griffith Park Observatory, figured out they were constellations.”
“Fascinating.” Ingrid reached for the bead. “I hadn’t been up this close since childhood. What do you think the significance of the constellations would be?”
Mariska handed the bead to her and watched as she held it close enough to see the intricate detail. “Their significance to the scientific community will need to be studied. For locating her origins, my guess is it would be a good way to narrow down a tribe or a group of tribes she may have belonged to. That way when DNA testing is done, it’ll be more specific. Not all the local tribes are known for their knowledge of the night sky.”
“Fascinating.”
“What do you know about the tooth?” Mariska said.
Ingrid shook her head, a sad look formed on her face. “My father died before we started working on that part. And, when he died, the tooth and beads disappeared. I assumed he’d stashed them away somewhere.”
“That he did.”
“Where did you find them?”
“Inside the La Brea Woman’s skull.”
A sharp laugh escaped the old woman’s lips. “I figured that codger would have hid them within the remains. At that time, the Museum had already taken her off display and kept in her the deepest bowels of the tombs. Trying, successfully, to keep her out of the public eye.”
“I’m surprised you hadn’t looked for them there. Considering how important they are to you.” Mariska handed the bead to Ingrid for her to take a closer look at it.
Ingrid’s face lit up as she took possession of the small, blue cube. “I’ve waited a long time to touch this.” She shrugged and slightly shook her head. “I only wish we had the others.”
“You don’t have them?”
“Why would I have them? You’re the one who took them from the body before it was stolen.”
Mariska said, “I assumed that whoever stole her, was the same person that stole the other beads from my apartment.”
“Oh, dear. No, I don’t have them. I’ve got some private investigators working on the dark-web or some such thing. They are searching for them. I hope whoever has them wants to sell…at some point.”
Mariska thought about the incident in her apartment. How her place had been ransacked. Her things violently strewn across the apartment. Broken. Shattered. “Maybe it was the beads and tooth then.”
“What about them?” Ingrid focused on Mariska.
“I bet whoever stole them is behind attacking me…and ultimately, behind Jane’s murder.” She paused for a moment of thought. “But why?”
The two stood in silence for a few moments. Suddenly, Ingrid said, “You know, if the tooth is from an undiscovered animal and the beads point to the tribe that has ownership over the La Brea Woman…then they would be way more valuable on the black market than her remains.”
“I had the tooth DNA tested, and it is from a previously unidentified animal…so, that makes sense. But why would the identity of the beads have such a high monetary value?”
Ingrid’s face lit up at the mention of the DNA results. She’d no doubt be asking more questions about it. “The La Brea Woman is a well-documented find. She could pull a high price from someone who is willing to keep her secret and never want to resell her. In other words, someone like me. Now, to have the tooth and beads, that’s a whole other matter. The tooth will fetch a high price from multiple groups trying to prove the existence of animals previously viewed as mythological or simply legends. And the beads, well, they will be worth a lot of money to anyone interested in legal possession of the La Brea Woman’s remains. All-in-all, I would guess the lot could pull in ten million dollars or more to the right buyer.”
“The prospect of having that kind of money could change a person.” Which included David. Mariska needed to find out who was behind this before it was too late. As long as she had possession of the tooth and beads, everyone associated with her was in danger.
“As much as I’d like to stay and chat,” Mariska said. “I have a feeling the person responsible for this is escalating. I’m going to leave these here with you.” She gave the tooth and bead to Ingrid, who took them with a surprised look on her face.
“Really? You trust me with them?”
“Just keep them safe for me.” Mariska turned to leave and stopped and looked back at her grandmother. “I have a feeling the danger is only going to escalate. If you’re able to hide them away in this mansion…they’re safer with you than me.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Day slowly darkened into night and Mariska hadn’t even noticed until she looked up from her computer. Other than the glow from the computer screen, her bedroom seemed pitch black. Her apartment hadn’t been returned to its normal state, she hadn’t had time to redecorate and she hoped once she was able to get to it, her mom would be talking to her again.
She’d been researching this mysterious black-market buyer that had sold the La Brea Woman’s remains to Ingrid. Who really was this man: Caleb Heuston? She needed to find out and there wasn’t time to waste. After sending Badger multiple unreturned messages asking for help in her search, she decided to do the work herself.
One roadblock after the next met her as her frustration began to rise. Who was this guy? Was it even his real name? It would make sense that it was an alias, but Ingrid felt confident it was his given name. Or, at least that was what she’d said. All the usual Google searches came back with pretty much nothing. She then plugged the name into every social media platform she could think of, even signing up for a few of them, so she could have access.
Nothing of importance.
Mariska’s cell phone rang.
“Hey Theresa. How are you?”
“I’m good. What are you up to?”
“Honestly, it’d be way better to tell you about my last twenty-four hours in person. It’s been quite an eye-opening and emotional experience.”
“Wow, let’s get together tomorrow for coffee. I’d love to hear what’s going on.”
“Sounds, great,” Mariska said. “So, what’s going on with you?” She took a second to check the time. “It’s almost midnight.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry to call you so late.”
“No worries. I’m up anyway. I haven’t slept well from getting back from Copenhagen. How long is jetlag supposed to last?”
“I called bec
ause I was helping Detective Wulf out with some computer searches and one of the things we came up with was a guy named Caleb Heuston. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Mariska’s heart pounded and her breaths quickened. “I was just looking up that name on my computer…did, you know that?” Was her computer bugged?
A short pause followed by a quick laugh. Theresa said, “No…not that I know of. Which computer are you using? Wasn’t yours destroyed in Copenhagen?”
“I’m using my personal laptop. It doesn’t have any of my research on it, but it still connects to the internet.” Mariska lowered the screen but left it cracked open for a little light. “Tell me what you found…about this Caleb guy.”
“Wulf followed a guy in a dark SUV and it was registered to Caleb Heuston. The strange thing is he lives in the same apartment complex as David. The address doesn’t specify apartment number, so we aren’t sure which building he lives in.” A short pause followed this revelation. “Has David ever mentioned anyone by that name? Does he have friends in the building that you’ve met, but don’t know their name?”
“You sound like a detective. Am I being interrogated?” Mariska asked.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day. I’m running some behind the scene searches for Wulf…he asked, and you know how he is.”
“Very convincing, huh?”
They both laughed.
“Can’t say that I know of any of David’s other friends. Honestly, I’ve never heard him even mention anyone at all by name. I kind of wondered if I was his only friend.”
“It’s pretty apparent that David’s world revolved around you.”
“If that were true, why’d he try to kill me?” Mariska ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s still hard to accept. Has anyone at the museum seen him since I left for Copenhagen?”
“No one has. I’ve been asking around and literally everyone has been wondering if he quit.”
“We know that’s not the case,” Mariska said. “Considering he had the Dire Wolf study locked down.”
“Can’t work on that much if you’re wanted by the cops.”
Couldn’t argue with that logic. Where the hell was he? Mariska yawned. “Damn, I think my lack of sleep has finally caught up with me.” She stretched her arms over her head while she tucked the phone between her chin and shoulder.
“I won’t keep you,” Theresa said. “I’ll call Wulf and let him know you aren’t familiar with the name either. Keep your eyes peeled. No telling who’s involved in this mess.”
“You’re right, as always. I’m going to sleep. Thanks for checking in and I’ll text you in the morning when I get up so we can meet for coffee.”
“Great, sleep well.”
Mariska disconnected the call and closed the lid of the computer, bathing her room in complete darkness. She was already in bed, so it was easy enough to put the computer on the floor and slide in between her comforter and sheets. The bed formed to her body and hugged her goodnight.
She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments when a loud thump at the far end of her apartment caused her eyes to snap open. Every sense was set on high. She held her breath and listened. At first, nothing, but a creaky floorboard between the kitchen and hallway sent her into full fight or flight. She grabbed for her cell phone and opened it. The screen opened to a missed call from Theresa and Wulf. She sent a message to Theresa: Preservation.
There wasn’t time for more, as a creak just on the other side of her door declared the presence of the intruder. It was clear, she was the goal, and it wasn’t a robbery. She sent a silent hope that Theresa would interpret the message to mean she needed help. Immediate help at her apartment rather than to meet at the Marie Calendars.
Her phone lit up with another incoming call. Saw it was Theresa and slid the phone under the pillow. Looking around the room for anything to defend herself with she saw a letter opener on the nightstand. The door to her room started to open, and she quickly threw the covers to the side, freeing her legs. Lying back onto the pillow she looked longingly at the sharp, dagger-like letter opener. Could she get it before the intruder entered the room? She looked back at the door; it was open.
She closed her eyes, as she saw the figure of a man enter her room. Her heart pounded as she pretended to sleep, scenarios flipping through her mind like a picture book of horrors.
The floor creaked under the weight of the man who was now approaching the bed. She balled up her fists and bit back the scream that threatened to erupt from deep inside. Mariska snuck a peek through slitted eyes. The room was nearly pitch black, but the silhouette of a man with broad shoulders approached carrying something indiscernible between outstretched arms. The primal, fight or flight, surged to the surface. She slid her legs straight off the side of the bed, lunging for the letter opener.
Just as she closed her fist, the weight of the intruder was upon her, pushing her into the nightstand. Mariska’s lower body was pinned, while her upper body was shoved down onto the top of the nightstand, sending everything on it crashing to the floor. A guttural snarl reverberated from her throat, tears streamed down her cheeks, and she pushed back hard against her unknown enemy. She couldn’t make him budge. Within seconds the man showed what he’d been carrying on his way over to her bed, a Garrote wire.
The ligature tightened around her neck, and she gasped for air. With both hands, Mariska grabbed for the wire, digging her nails into the soft flesh of her neck.
The wire was already too tight for her to breathe. Blood seeped out from the ever-deepening wound and ran down her neck, soaking into her shirt. Time was running out as her vision tunneled into points. Pins and needles buzzed in her eyes and cheeks and she was unable to take in a single breath. Her knees collapsed under her weight, and she slid to the floor. The sudden shift sent the man toppling onto her, loosening the ligature just enough for her to gasp a breath of air.
The rush of fresh air into her lungs caused an eruption of coughing. Phlegm mixed with tears drained out of her nose and into the back into her throat. She gagged. Her vision remained blurred by the tears, but by rolling on to her back, she could see her attacker right himself. She was close enough to see his face, but when she looked, his head was covered by a black ski-mask.
He scrambled to his feet and took a threatening step toward her. Mariska used both hands to push herself back and away from him, and then groped for anything on the floor she could use as a weapon.
One more step and he’d be upon her. Unwilling to let him out of her sight, she padded the floor around her, desperate for something to save herself. A piece of broken glass. Just as the fingers of her left hand closed around the shard, the man leaped toward her and stomped down hard. The glass sliced deep, into the palm of her hand. A pitiful whine leaked out from her soul, and the man struck her hard across the mouth with an open hand.
Blood dripped down her chin and onto the floor. The nauseating taste of blood filled her mouth forcing her to spit or choke.
“Pathetic bitch!” the man growled under his breath.
The voice was familiar. Who was he? Was it the Caleb man everyone has been searching for?
Next to the man’s boot lay her only chance at survival—the letter opener. Fueled with rage and fear, Mariska dove for the weapon. Despite her pinned left hand, still stuck under the man’s shoe, she reached for the handle of the shiv, securing it with her right. The move caught him off guard, and he shifted his weight when he tried to intercept. Her left hand came out from under his foot, allowing her to pull it safely away. He grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked, hard. Her head snapped back, but she’d already achieved her goal. The man tightened a strong hand around her neck and hoisted her up to stand.
With all her might, she jabbed the blade through his thin T-shirt and into his stomach. The pointed metal slid right up to the handle with surprising ease. Blood gushed from the wound, covering her hand and wrist. The heat of the thick liquid caused her a momentary lapse in concentration. He s
tarted to pull away, and she tried to tighten her grip on the small, slippery handle. When she pulled back on the blade, it slipped from her fingers. Her only weapon was stuck inside her enemy.
The man hobbled another step back, stunned into inaction. Mariska rushed at him and once again grabbed for the opener. One hand on the weapon and the other against his chest, she pulled back with all her might. A sucking sound and a gush of blood caused her to step back, away from the gore.
The masked man growled and clenched his fists. With a renewed strength, he lunged forward, arms outstretched to grab her. She readjusted her grip and plunged the weapon into the man’s neck. He collapsed to the ground. Mariska tried to run but tripped over his downed body. She fell atop him, coming face to face with the murderer for the first time.
Their eyes met. They weren’t the eyes of a stranger. With a shaking hand, she snatched the top of the ski mask and yanked it from his head. A nauseating recognition washed over her as she watched her friend David gasp for air beneath her. His lips began to move, but the weapon had punctured his trachea, preventing his words from making sound. A steady gurgle of wasted breath spewed from the hole in his neck.
Tears filled his eyes and were matched by her own. His lips mouthed, “I’m sorry.” And then his body began to shake. Blood ran from his nose and mouth and continued to bubble up from the slit in his throat.
Sobs wracked her body. She watched as the life drained from his eyes and the pain in his face relaxed out to a smooth, lifeless, expression. “Why? David, why?”
Sadness and anger of betrayal. The loss of her best friend and the acknowledgment their long-standing relationship had been based on lies, weakened her. She slid off him and collapsed to the floor next to his body.
The sound of sirens grew louder until coming to a stop outside her apartment. She closed her eyes and rolled to her side and cried, curled up into a ball. Mariska barely registered the sounds of her rescuers entering her room, guns drawn, orders flying.
She didn’t care about any of it. She was tired, and she was done.
Preservation Page 37