Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  “Hello, gorgeous. Is that better?”

  “Hmm. A little forced.”

  “With reason.” Rod’s voice rose slightly. “Do you realize you left at 9 a.m. this morning? It’s after midnight. What have you been doing at the cave for fifteen hours?”

  “I can explain, but not really. My brain isn’t working right. Ryker will tell you all about it in the morning.”

  “Ryker?” asked Rod. “Ryker’s coming to my office tomorrow? What for?”

  “Not exactly.” Maria wished she’d thought of a better way to say this. “You’re going to his. He needs you to guard the cave. Just you. No one else. He’ll explain everything.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I got a partner last year, since I never seem to make it to the office anymore.”

  Maria was so tired, she was having a hard time reading Rod’s mood. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll make it up to you. It’s just that I have to work on the murder case tomorrow. There have been some developments. It’s a little crazy right now. I really—”

  Rod’s voice softened. “It’s okay. I was just teasing. I’m happy to go. I was so curious what you were doing there today I about took off to find you, but I didn’t want you to think I was a stalker or something.”

  The image of the two of them that morning holding each other warmed Maria. “As far as stalkers go, I could do worse.”

  Rod laughed. “Hey, if you’re feeling up to it, I could come over and—” He stopped mid-sentence. “You’re wiped out, aren’t you?”

  Maria sighed. “Yes. But I’d love to see you tomorrow. I’ll take care of the stuff I have to do at the station, and then I’ll join you at the cave. I’ll be there about dinner. How about I bring a picnic?”

  “That sounds great,” said Rod. “I love PB and J.”

  “Good thing, because you’ve seen in my cupboards and that’s about all I have.”

  “Okay, well . . . goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” said Maria.

  The conversation was over, but Maria didn’t want to hang up yet. She listened to Rod breathe for a few seconds and wished she could kiss him goodnight. But if she didn’t get off her feet that instant, her body might revolt.

  Rod, too, hadn’t hung up.

  “I really do gotta go to bed,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  Was this the awkward time people said things like “I love you” to each other?

  “Maria?”

  “Yes?” Her tongue felt dried and withered. If he told her he loved her, what would she say in return? She liked him. Sure. But loved him? It had all been too soon, too fast.

  “Thanks for calling. I know it bugs you, but I like to know you’re okay. It’s just how I am.”

  “You’re welcome.” She let her breath out, relieved and happy. He’d said the perfect thing. He worried about her. And for some reason, that wasn’t as annoying as it used to be. “Sweet dreams, Rod.”

  “You too.”

  “Oh, and Rod?”

  “Yes?”

  “Take a gun tomorrow. You never know.”

  Pale faced and worried, Whitney walked into the front office of the police station at exactly at 10 a.m. She wore a silky shirt and nice pants, but her hair looked as if she’d completely forgotten to style it. It was then Maria realized she hadn’t returned Whitney’s curling iron to her. Things were not starting off on the right foot.

  “Hi, Whitney,” said Maria, walking up to the distraught woman and shaking her hand. “Thanks for coming.” Maria had called Whitney a few hours earlier and asked her to come down to the station. She’d tried to keep her voice light and chill, but Whitney hadn’t taken it that way.

  “Hi Ma— Chief Branson,” Whitney said. She stood and looked at Maria with an expression that said, “now what?”

  “Beautiful weather, isn’t it?” Maria let a huge smile cover her face, trying to encourage Whitney to relax a bit.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you got anything fun planned?” Maria held out her hand, leading Whitney into a spare office at the station.

  “No.”

  Small talk was not helping. Maria reached into her uniform’s front pocket and pushed the “on” button of her voice recorder.

  “I’m sorry to have called you so early,” said Maria, showing Whitney to a chair against the wall. She sat down right next to her. “I know you have your kids to get ready in the morning, but I needed to talk with you as soon as I could. I’m finishing up some work with my investigation of the mayor’s death, and I needed to ask you a few questions.” Another smile from Maria.

  Nothing from Whitney.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of your Miranda rights?”

  “Yes.” Whitney’s voice shook.

  “I’m going to read those to you. It’s not a big deal. I always do it when I have someone come into my office. Just a formality. Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Well, that was a two-word answer at least. The longest of any Whitney had given so far. Still, the woman wasn’t warming up at all.

  After reading Whitney her rights, Maria tried some more casual conversation, but nothing put Whitney at ease. Maria might as well start with the questions.

  “So Whitney, can you tell me where you were from noon to six on the afternoon of the 11th?”

  “What day of the week was that?”

  “It was a Thursday.”

  “I usually go into my work Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.” Whitney bit her lower lip. Maria worried she was going to make it bleed.

  “And did you got into work on Thursday the 11th?”

  “I think so.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Uh . . .” Whitney’s arms shook.

  Maria let the axe fall. “I called Kids Who Count this morning and checked. They said you never came into work that day. In fact, it had surprised them when you didn’t show because you are usually so responsible. Your boss expected you to call and let them know what was going on.”

  “The 11th?” Whitney was near tears.

  “Yes, can you remember where you were that afternoon?”

  “I . . . I think I went on a drive.”

  “A drive? Can you tell me where you drove to?”

  Whitney’s eyes dropped. Maria waited.

  “I don’t remember, exactly. I just drove around and thought about stuff.”

  Maria felt the disappointment in her chest. She had really hoped that Whitney would have a rock solid alibi. As things were looking, that was not going to be the case.

  “Were you by yourself, or were you with someone?”

  “I was by myself.”

  “What did you need to think about while driving around in a car for an entire afternoon?”

  The tears had started for real. One dripped off Whitney’s cheek onto her silk blouse, making a wet mark.

  “I- I was w-worried. I did something I shouldn’t have.” Her words came out choppy. Her mouth quivered.

  “What did you do?” Maria stayed calm, trying to act more like a confidant than an interrogator. She handed Maria a tissue.

  Whitney sobbed. Her shoulders shook up and down. Maria let her get out the built-up stress for a minute before asking more questions. She wouldn’t have understood anything Whitney said at this point anyway.

  Slightly more calmed, Whitney used the tissue to blow her nose.

  “You seem really upset,” said Maria. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  Whitney nodded and sucked in air. She breathed out with a long sigh. “I was blackmailing the mayor. He was the government official over the region’s Kids Who Count program, and he was embezzling money from it. He and some other people—I wasn’t sure who. But it was wrong. The children at Kids Who Count deserve better. Who steals from little kids? Especially from kids who already struggle?”

  Blackmailing?

  Maria hadn’t been expecting
that answer. Whitney, a full-time mom and part-time accountant, was extorting money from the mayor of Kanab who was in turn blackmailing a state senator. Craziness! But in one way, Maria was relieved. Whitney had not been having an affair. She’d seemed so in love with her husband that night Maria had eaten dinner at their house. It was good to know that wasn’t fake.

  “How long had you been blackmailing the mayor?” Maria asked.

  “A month. I was giving the money back to Kids Who Count. I promise. As the accountant, I was trying to funnel it into the budget without being obvious, but I’m sure a careful audit would show money was coming in. I didn’t keep it for myself. I would never do that.”

  Maria believed her. But no matter how valiant someone’s reasons were, blackmailing was illegal. And so was murder.

  “Did you go with the mayor to a cave in the Moquith Mountains on the afternoon of the 11th?”

  “No!” The blood drained from Whitney’s face. “I had nothing to do with his . . . murder.”

  “How did you know the mayor was stealing funds from Kids Who Count?”

  “Someone told me and then I did some double-checking of my own at the library.”

  “Who? Who told you, Whitney?”

  That question seemed to give Whitney courage. Her shoulders straightened. “I can’t tell you. But I did not kill anyone.”

  “Whitney, you have to tell me. You’re in a lot of trouble. I’m trying to help you out. Who told you the mayor was embezzling money?”

  “I need a lawyer.”

  “Absolutely, but you can tell me now who the person was. It will look better if you volunteer that information.” Maria was pushing her hard, but it would save a lot of time down the road if this piece of the puzzle was solved.

  “I have nothing more to say.”

  Maria used every approach she could think of, but the woman was not going to talk anymore. Another ten minutes of questioning resulted in repeated request after request to speak to a lawyer.

  “Okay, I’m going to have you wait in my office for a little while. I need to call the attorney general’s office and then we’ll see about getting your lawyer in here. Are you going to be all right?”

  Whitney nodded.

  Maria left the office, closing the door firmly behind her. Whitney was not a flight risk. She’d be fine until Maria could secure a warrant for her arrest in the murder of Mayor Hayward from the attorney general. It shouldn’t take long. Whitney had motive, an eyewitness had put her in the mayor’s truck with the mayor the morning of the murder, she had no alibi, and there was plenty of forensic evidence.

  Depressing but true.

  Maria would also need to get a search warrant for the Thatcher’s house. She hoped to find the murder weapon and anything else that might implicate Whitney. How strange would it be searching her grandparents’ home for a criminal investigation? Not something she ever thought she’d do.

  Walking quickly to the front office, Maria called out Nancy’s name. “I need you to get on the phone with—”

  Emily Hayward paced back and forth in the waiting room, angry and purposeful. When she saw Maria, she beelined it to her.

  “Where is she? I need to see Whitney now.” She slammed her fist into her hand.

  “She’s safe in an office down the hallway. Calm down, Mrs. Hayward. Whitney is here for questioning.”

  “I know she is,” Emily snapped back. “But she shouldn’t be.”

  “It is lawful for me to question anyone I want about a murder case. Now, I need to make a few phone calls, so if you would excuse me—”

  “I’ll pay bail right now. How much is it? I can write you out a check for a million dollars. Just tell me who to make it out to.”

  This was getting ridiculous. “Mrs. Hayward, there has been no arrest yet, and certainly no bail hearing. I need you to calm down. Why don’t you head home, and I’ll call you personally later this afternoon.”

  Emily didn’t budge. “Whitney didn’t do it. She didn’t kill my husband. She was blackmailing him, but she is no murderer.”

  Maria looked around to see who else heard that Whitney was blackmailing the mayor. The only other person besides herself and Emily in the room was Nancy, who sat stone-faced in her seat, acting like she couldn’t hear a single thing even though the conversation was taking place three feet from her desk.

  “How do you know Whitney was blackmailing your husband?” asked Maria.

  Emily glared at her. “Because I’m the one who told her to do it. So, if you’re going to arrest anyone for Darrin’s murder, arrest me.”

  “Are you confessing to the crime?” Maria’s voice turned serious. A confession was nothing to play around with. She was glad the voice recorder in her pocket was still running.

  Emily scoffed. “No, I’m not confessing to killing him. I just know Whitney didn’t. I’m serious. If you have to blame someone, blame me.”

  “The problem,” said Maria, “is that your alibi is airtight. Now I have to go. Please leave quietly, Mrs. Hayward. It will make things easier.”

  After assigning Pete to stand guard in the hallway in front of the office where Whitney waited, Maria got on the phone with the attorney general. Pete had been a little stand-offish since the “misunderstanding” in the coroner’s examination room. She’d explained in her kindest voice possible that, unfortunately, she didn’t feel the same way toward him as he did about her. He’d taken the news well, even though his pride had been hurt.

  Less than an hour later, after a quick but effective conversation with the attorney general’s assistant, Maria received a faxed copy of the warrant for Whitney’s arrest. It was time to do the deed.

  Maria and Pete went into the room together. Whitney’s eyes were puffy and red, a pile of Kleenex on her lap. She saw the handcuffs in Maria’s hand and started crying again.

  Rising to her feet, Whitney wailed. “My children. What will happen to my children? No, please. Please don’t do this. You can’t do this. You just can’t. They need their mother.” More sobs.

  Maria’s heart ached. It was scenes like this that hurt the worst. But justice had to come first. “We’ll make sure your children are cared for, Whitney. You can make a call right now to let your husband know where they are. You can also call your lawyer.”

  Pete grabbed his own Kleenex, blew his nose, and wiped his eyes. The guy was tenderhearted. Who wouldn’t be? Taking a mother from her children was a horrible thing. Then again, so was shooting a man inside of a cave and leaving his body to rot.

  “Whitney Thatcher,” said Maria as she took one of Whitney’s arms and gently pulled it behind her back, “we have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Darrin Hayward. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” The words tumbled from Maria’s mouth. As she finished telling Whitney her legal rights, she put a handcuff on one of Whitney’s wrists, then the other.

  “I didn’t do it,” Whitney cried. “Please believe me.”

  “Pete,” said Maria, “will you accompany me to the jail?”

  “Of course.”

  The three of them walked down the hall and headed toward the glass front doors. When they arrived, they all stopped in shock. On the front sidewalk, outside the station, a circle of women held up signs with different messages written on them:

  Release the innocent.

  Justice for Whitney.

  Keep a mother with her children.

  You’ve got the wrong person.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” said Maria. Apparently, Emily Hayward had no intention of making things easy.

  “Pete,” Maria said, “please take Whitney back to the office. In fact, why don’t you let her call her lawyer? We may need someone here.”

  Maria exited out the station doors to meet the women. She wore no big smile. Police business was serious. She was trying to bring a murderer to justice for pity’s sake.

  Emily’s “Release the Innocent” sign was th
e biggest of them all. She moved it up and down furiously and repeated the words, “Let her go!”

  Right behind Emily was the elderly Mrs. Wolfgramm. She saw Maria and tsked. “I thought you were a champion of women. Not an ‘arrester’ of one.”

  “Listen, I understand your concern for Whitney. I really do. We want to do everything we can to make sure she gets a fair trial. None of this is helping.”

  A few yards away from the picketing women, two people were in a heated discussion. Sherrie Mercer and Tara.

  “Of course I can write an article about this,” Sherrie said. “It’s called freedom of the press. You may have heard of it before?”

  “Of course you can write about it, but why would you want to? It will divide our community, not to mention do nothing for tourism. I think we should all settle down and talk it over.” Tara turned her head. “Oh, there is Chief Branson now.”

  Sherrie saw the police chief and immediately quit talking to Tara. She practically ran to where Maria was. “Chief, what can you tell me about the arrest of Whitney Thatcher for the murder of Mayor Hayward, and what is your reaction to the outcry from the community?”

  Maria held up her hand. “We’ll be having a press conference about the situation at four o’clock. in the afternoon. I’ll do my best to answer all of your questions at that time.”

  “But Chief, do you confirm that you have arrested Whitney Thatcher in connection to the murder of Darrin Hayward? It’s a yes or no question.”

  “Yes, Whitney Thatcher has been arrested.”

  Boos from the women with signs.

  “I repeat, there will be a press conference at 4 p.m. today to answer any other questions. Now, please excuse me.” Maria wound around the demonstrators and got into her police jeep. She called Pete inside the building and asked him to bring Whitney out the back door of the station where she would meet them.

  It was time Whitney Thatcher went to jail.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Is this the end of the search for Montezuma’s treasure, or just another attempt by the spirit of the Aztec warriors to protect their treasure until the arrival of “The Chosen Ones?”