Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  Feeling a bit awkward, like she was making some kind of grand entrance, Maria picked her way through the rocks on the path. He looked up from his magazine when she was still a good twenty yards away.

  It was time for a crash course in Relationship Management 101, thought Maria as Rod pushed himself out of the chair. He looked hot—in the literal sense of the word. His face glistened with sweat that he tried to wipe off with the shoulder of his shirt. Sweat rings under his armpits were visible from even this distance. Pretty much, he looked exactly how Maria had hoped he would—rugged and strong.

  Her steps became quicker. The dilemma she’d gone over in her mind for the last twenty-five minutes, about whether or not she should kiss him up front or wait for some opportune moment, now seemed completely irrelevant.

  Of course she was going to kiss him, that was unless he kissed her first. He moved quickly toward her, and in seconds her arms were around him, feeling the defined muscles in his back each time he moved. Their lips met midway between the two of them. First there was a quick “hello” sort of kiss that transformed into something much better. Something that made her insides twist with the need to keep him close.

  They stayed in each other’s arms for longer than Maria thought possible without feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The more he held her, the better she felt.

  At last he spoke. “You’re here early.” Then, with a confused look on his face he asked, “Where’s the food? Is this some sort of hide and seek game for dinner?”

  The moment of truth had come.

  “Yeah,” began Maria, “about that. The picnic will be coming a little later this evening. But we can find a granola bar or two in the supplies Ryker left to tide us over.”

  A deep laugh rumbled from Rod. “You forgot to bring the picnic? Never again can you tease me about bran flakes and bananas for breakfast. At least there was something to eat.”

  “I know.” Maria blushed. “I’m an idiot. I forgot everything. I showed up without my gun even. I’m glad I told you to bring yours.”

  Now it was Rod who turned a light shade of pink.

  Maria opened her eyes widely. “Don’t tell me you forgot your gun too? I’m seriously feeling naked without one.”

  “The fact is,” said Rod, “I don’t own a gun.”

  “What?” Maria had never assumed he wouldn’t have one. She’d carried one for so long it was a piece of her wardrobe, like earrings or a watch. “Why did you tell me you did?”

  “I didn’t. You hung up the phone before I could tell you.”

  “Oh.” He was right.

  “Anyhow,” said Rod, “I don’t know why you told me to bring one. I haven’t needed to use anything deadly except for a fly swatter and a can of ‘Off.’ ”

  A man who didn’t own a gun. Hmm. Maria thought about it a minute and decided she could like him anyway.

  “So,” said Rod, “what have you been doing?”

  Maria hit the bullet points of her day. The arrest of Whitney. The visit from Acalan. Sue’s discovery about Sherrie and the mayor’s families. And the attorney general identifying Sherrie as the owner of the mystery phone number on the mayor’s records.

  “Before he left this morning, did Ryker show you what he found in the cave?” Maria asked.

  “Yes,” Rod answered, “and I have to say, that’s the first mummified body I’ve seen. Weird.”

  “I know. And now that I know it was the mayor’s grandfather who helped kill Freddie, I can’t understand why he went to this particular cave. But I’m sure it wasn’t with Whitney. He must have been here with Sherrie. But I can’t figure out why.”

  Rod listened.

  “And,” continued Maria, “unfortunately, the evidence is stacked against Whitney.” She kicked at the dirt, frustrated. Things weren’t adding up.

  “So what are you going to do?” Rod asked.

  “I cancelled the press conference about Whitney’s arrest to see if I could find any other clues in the cave—something that would point to Sherrie having been inside it recently. I’d better get to it. I could use another set of eyes.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Armed with flashlights from Ryker’s supplies, Rod and Maria entered the cave and began to comb over the entry chamber where the mayor’s body was found. As they worked, every once in a while they would bump into each other and Rod would steal a kiss in the cave’s dim light.

  Maria didn’t mind.

  Ten minutes passed and they found absolutely nothing. Just as Maria had feared.

  “So,” began Rod, “if Whitney is innocent and the murderer really is Sherrie, what do you think happened?”

  Maria thought a moment, giving Rod enough time to answer his own question.

  “I think,” he said, “the families of Sherrie Mercer and Darrin Hayward have been trying to hide the secret of Freddie’s murder for years. My hypothesis is that years ago Freddie brought his friends here, showed them the treasure, and then the two men killed him because they didn’t want to split the treasure three ways. Freddie had no family. He wouldn’t be missed.”

  “I completely agree,” said Maria. “And what if, for some reason, the mayor had decided to spill the beans about Freddie’s disappearance or about the treasure? But let’s say Sherrie wanted to keep him quiet. She knew him well enough to convince him to come to the cave . . . maybe under some false pretense. When the mayor showed up, there was a fight, accusing words, and Sherrie pulled out a gun and fired. Stranger things have happened.”

  A loud bang behind them made both Maria and Rod spin around. Sherrie Mercer stood behind them, a lantern in one hand, a gun in the other. “That has got to be the most interesting conversation I’ve heard in a long while.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  So that’s how it sits—45,000 pounds of gold guarded by an army of 8,000 Aztec ghosts, protected by 100,000 endangered snails.

  RANGE MAGAZINE. “MONTEZUMA’S REVENGE” BY RICHARD MENZIES, FALL ISSUE 1998.

  “Put the gun down, Sherrie,” Rod said. He took a step forward, putting himself between Maria and Sherrie’s weapon. While the gesture was certainly chivalrous, it was not the smart thing for him to do. Maria was the trained CIA agent, not Rod.

  “Put your hands in the air.” The reporter looked ready for battle. She wore fatigues, army boots, and a green canvas pack on her back. “Rod, move over. I need to get Maria’s gun.”

  “What about my gun?” Rod asked, holding his ground, still trying to protect Maria.

  “Everyone knows you don’t even own one. Stand over there, now!”

  Rod moved to the right.

  “Further,” Sherrie barked.

  Rod was flush with the opposite cave wall. Sherrie quickly frisked Maria. The journalist seemed more ex-military than newspaper reporter. She was as effective as many of the police officers Maria had worked with.

  “No gun?” Sherrie said, surprised.

  Maria shrugged. “It happens, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with anything.”

  “Away with what?” Sherrie set the lantern in her hand down and opened her backpack. Her hands were much too steady. She was used to handling weapons.

  “You think you have to kill us because we know about you and the mayor. But your logic is flawed. You’ll be caught. People know we’re out here. They’ll put two and two together just like we did. We tracked your phone, Sherrie. The unlisted one you used to call the mayor. Others know about it too. If you let us go, you could pass off the mayor’s death as manslaughter. It’d be a lighter sentence. Killing us will put you away forever.”

  “The phone is circumstantial.” The item Sherrie had fetched from her pack was a rope. “I tried to get you to leave. I warned you. The car. The note. I even threatened you with divulging your past, but you wouldn’t stop sticking your nose into stuff that wasn’t your business. The old sheriff would have been so much easier to throw off the scent.”

  “Maria was doing her job,�
�� growled Rod. “Like she said, if you kill us there’s no way you won’t be caught for our murders.”

  “Murder?” Sherrie sounded as if she were offended. “I’m not going to murder anyone. She is.” She pointed at Maria. “A murder suicide. Those are the most cowardly of crimes, aren’t they?”

  As Sherrie talked, Maria assessed the situation. Sherrie was more competent with a gun than Maria originally thought she’d be. In the beginning Maria had thought a quick kick would take Sherrie off guard and Maria would be in control of the situation. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “A murder suicide?” questioned Rod.

  “Let me set the scene, since you two like making up stories so much. A deranged police chief, racked with guilt and shame, falls in love with the town heartthrob. He rejects her, of course, which leads the insane police chief into a frenzied state of jealousy during which she shoots said town heartthrob and kills herself.”

  “The problem with that,” said Rod, “is that nobody thinks Chief Branson is insane.”

  “But they will,” retorted Sherrie, wadding up a piece of paper and throwing it to him. “Go ahead and read tomorrow’s human interest story I’ll be publishing about the chief.”

  Rod held the crumpled paper in his hand. He made no movement to open it up.

  “Read it,” ordered Sherrie, “or I’ll kill you right here.”

  Maria was baffled. What was Sherrie getting at? Everything that could implicate her was classified. No one knew except high-ranking government officers and CIA officials.

  “I don’t want to read it,” said Rod, defiantly.

  “If you don’t read it, then I’ll kill her instead of you.” Sherrie aimed the gun in Maria’s direction.

  The threat worked. Rod flattened out the wad, and, with his flashlight shining on the paper, he read the title and byline. “Kanab’s New Police Chief has Turbulent Past, by Sherrie Mercer.” He stopped and looked at Maria.

  What had Sherrie done? Who had she talked to? Why did the woman look so smug? The article title was true. Maria did have a turbulent past, and the thought of anyone in Kanab knowing about that past, especially Rod, sickened her. A wave of nausea rolled through Maria’s insides.

  “Keep going, Rod,” said Sherrie. “The article gets better than that.”

  Rod’s deep voice ricocheted in the cave as he read. “Maria Branson was only five years old when her younger sister died in a car accident. It was the first of many tragedies in the life of Kanab’s newest police chief—a woman well-acquainted with grief.

  “As a teen, Branson’s next door neighbor was murdered by a crazed drug addict. This spurred Branson’s decision to turn to law enforcement as a career. According to her senior high school yearbook, Branson’s dream for the future was to ‘make the world a safer place for everyone to live in.’ Tragically, this has not been the case.

  “Branson attended George Washington University, graduating with high honors and quickly finding employment with the Pittsburgh police, rising quickly to the top of—”

  Sherrie interrupted him. “I was a bit long-winded here. Skip down a few paragraphs to where it says ‘In a whirlwind.’ ”

  Maria’s heart pounded. This was a bluff. Sherrie didn’t really know. She couldn’t. Maria’s unsteady legs felt as if they might buckle at any moment.

  Rod looked back down at the paper, finding the place Sherrie had told him to skip to. Maria wondered if he now read because he was being forced to, or out of curiosity.

  Rod continued. “In a whirlwind career change, Branson was recruited by the CIA to work for the International Communications Department. This was a ‘front’ to her real job as a CIA undercover operative assigned to the Middle East. Both her aptitude for languages and outward appearance made her ideal for the job.

  “After a mere three years in the CIA, Branson was given the job of team leader and put in charge of a risky fake arms deal in Iran, the purpose of which was to draw out top officials of terrorist organizations in the area.”

  Rod looked up and stared at Maria. She hung her head. This couldn’t be happening. Sherrie couldn’t know the rest of the story.

  Rod continue reading, “Six months into the mission, Branson’s cover was blown. She and all of her team members were captured by an up-and-coming terrorist group with Al Qaeda ties. As team leader, Branson was forced to watch the mutilation of her team members by terrorists who wanted to extract information from Branson about the location of weapons.

  “According to a WikiLeak report, ‘Branson was forced to watch mock executions of her comrades. Various members of her team lost appendages in these displays of torture.’

  “At some point during her imprisonment, Branson did reveal the location of a stash of U.S. weapons, including assault rifles and portable explosives. These weapons were subsequently stolen by the militant terrorist group and have been used in attacks on political officials and civilians alike.

  “Upon the acquisition of the weapons, all of Branson’s CIA team members were executed, again in front of Branson. She was kept alive as a bargaining chip with the U.S.

  “Nearly one year after her capture, a U.S. Navy SEAL team orchestrated the rescue of Branson and her teammates, but Branson was the only survivor. WikiLeaks reports Branson’s botched mission caused the death of hundreds of innocent Iranians, in addition to the lost CIA operatives.”

  Rod took a deep, deep breath.

  Maria, on the other hand, couldn’t breathe. Her head swam—her heart as heavy as a bowling ball, pressing on her chest. So. Much. Pain.

  Please stop reading. Maria’s plea was a silent one. She dropped to the ground in a kneeling position. The unfairness of it all overwhelmed her. Her sobs echoed off the walls. Buried, exposed, wails of misery.

  Her life was like the glass shards from a broken crystal vase strewn across a tile floor. She had once been successful. A person others were jealous of. But then her bright and beautiful world had fallen, smashing against the hardness of life. All of the memories of those horrific moments in Tehran flooded into her mind. For the millionth time she wished she could have died instead of them. If she hadn’t broken and revealed where the weapons were, her team might still be alive. But she’d failed. She had killed them as surely as if she had held the machete herself.

  “H-how did you . . .” Maria choked on the words.

  “How did I find out about you?” asked Sherrie. “Let’s just say my family came into a lot of money about ninety years ago.” She laughed. “Since then, we’ve made friends in high places. It’s amazing what an Aztec golden statue can buy.”

  Aztec golden statue? Even in Maria’s pathetic state of self-loathing she understood. Sherrie’s family had found Montezuma’s treasure. At least some of it. The mayor’s family must have been in on it too. As Rod had guessed, they’d killed Freddie over it. And now, decades later, Sherrie had killed Darrin Hayward, making her the sole owner.

  Maria had to make things right. She had to pull herself together. But the shame of what had happened in Tehran consumed her. Even worse, Rod knew. She hadn’t dared look at him since he’d finished reading the article. What would he think of her now?

  Who cares? Jim’s voice sounded in her mind. Your demons are gone. Your sacrifice is complete.

  On cue, a strong pang started in Maria’s little toe and then grew. The sharp stab ran through her foot, up her leg, and into her chest. Her sacrifice had been complete. Her demons were gone. They hadn’t come to her in the cemetery and they weren’t here now. A week ago the cave would have been full of her ghosts, fabricated images of a guilt-ridden mind.

  Instead, power filled Maria’s soul. The whole world could know what had happened. Let them experience what she had and see if they would have done any differently.

  Maria willed strength into her legs and stood. “Was the mayor getting greedy, Sherrie? Did he want more of Montezuma’s loot than you were willing to share?” In the corner of her eye she saw Rod try to move toward her, but Sherrie stopped him
by waving the gun in his direction.

  “Stay where you are,” she said. “I need Maria to tie you up.” Sherrie reached into her open backpack and pulled out a long zip tie, tossing it to Maria. “Tie his hands together behind him.”

  Maria fingered the long notched plastic strip. “How close were you and the mayor? Do you have an Aztec tattoo as well? Like he did?”

  “So you found the marking on his body, did you?” asked Sherrie. “Yes, I have one. It marks us as keepers of the treasure, but Darrin had gotten very bad at his job. He wasn’t keeping the treasure, he was spending it. More and more every week. He was in debt to so many people. And then he got caught up in Senator Emerson’s mess.”

  Maria slowly walked to Rod, zip tie in hand.

  “Pull your boyfriend’s arms behind his back and tie him up, tightly. And don’t talk. I’m watching,” Sherrie said.

  Maria braced herself before turning her gaze to Rod. It was the moment of truth. What would his face show? He knew her secrets. Would he think less of her for them?

  She shouldn’t have worried. If Rod’s eyes could have spoken, they would have said how much he wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her until the pain left. She felt his compassion, but not pity. Like salve on an open wound.

  Rod turned and put his arms behind his back. As Maria took his wrist, he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed—a gesture to reassure her he was okay. They were okay.

  Being close to Rod was good for Maria. It reminded her of why she had become a police officer in the first place. It was to save the innocent like him. She would do anything to get him out of this cave alive. Even if it meant he would leave without her.

  Tenderly, Maria fastened the tie around his wrists.

  “Tighter,” demanded Sherrie.

  Maria did as she was told. As she pulled on the plastic strap, she asked another question. The more she could keep Sherrie talking, the less time she had to make plans, and the more likely she was to mess up. “Why did you kill the mayor in the cave?”