“Sure sounded like you were talking to someone. Do you talk to yourself like that a lot?”
“Yeah. I do it all the time. It’s something they taught us in the CIA—a way to brainstorm effectively.”
Beth’s expression soured. “You know I can tell you’re lying. You were talking to someone. What gives?”
In an instant Maria weighed the pros and cons of telling her best friend about her ghost issues, and then promptly decided against it. There was no reason to burden her with that bombshell.
Maria looked at her best friend, held open her arms, and lied. “Why would I not tell you the truth about something like that? No lies from me. Just brainstorming with myself.”
“So why were you calling yourself Dakota. Sorry. That’s weird.” Beth continued to eye Maria suspiciously.
“How’s Tom?” Maria changed the subject.
“Conscious. The Benadryl worked. We’re only about thirty yards from where he is. I had to use the bathroom so I left him for a minute, and then I saw you chatting to yourself.”
“Right.” Maria smiled at Beth.
“By the way, what’s that?” Beth pointed to the saguaro at Maria’s feet.
“A dead cactus. Burning it should make a decent signal fire.” Maria picked up the rope and started pulling it again.
“Perfect. The sooner we get out of here the better.” Beth scratched at one of the insect bites on her arm. “Hey, there’s something I wanted to tell you before Tom can hear us.”
“Yeah?”
“When Tom was out and mumbling, I finally figured out what he was saying.”
“What?” asked Maria.
“Dakota. He was repeating Dakota’s name.”
Maria tried to lick her dried lips, but her parched tongue gave no relief. “Weird.”
A crooked grin spread over Beth’s face. “Maybe he was just brainstorming with himself as well.”
A pang of guilt shot through Maria for lying to her best friend. “Funny. Very funny. Let’s get back and start a bonfire. Someone should see us. Hopefully it’s not the guy with the bow and arrow.”
“Okay.” Beth hesitated. “Maria, I hope you know you can tell me anything. I promise I’ll understand.”
“Thanks,” Maria answered. After a moment she added, “You’re a good friend, Beth. You really are.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jacob Waltz (sic) was born in Prussia, most likely in the year 1810. Speculation had it that in the year 1839 or thereabouts, Waltz landed in New York harbor and set foot upon American Soil for the first time. From New York he journeyed to St. Louis and eventually headed west, lured by the promise of the California gold fields. . . In September 1863, Jacob Waltz staked and recorded his first mining claim in Arizona.
“FOOL’S GOLD,” BY ROBERT SIKORSKY, GOLDEN WEST PUBLISHERS, 1983, PAGES 36-38.
The helicopter spotted them at half past midnight. By the next morning, Tom was in the hospital and Beth and Maria were tucked into bed at Brian’s house.
Very uncharacteristically, Maria slept almost until noon. When she woke up, her skin itched horribly from the bites and her mind was in panic mode. She was going to visit Rod today.
The small visiting cell.
The orange jump suit.
The armed guards.
All of it was completely anxiety provoking. Not to mention the question that had been tormenting her since they’d found Dakota’s skeleton—was Rod guilty of murder?
On the drive to the jail, Beth had convinced Maria it was best for her to see Rod without her, at least for the first bit of her visit. She’d said they needed some time, just the two of them—that was if you didn’t count the guard standing watch.
Now that Maria was inside the room the jail used for visitors, her innards swam back and forth. She checked where the closest garbage can was, just in case her late lunch decided to part ways with her stomach.
This is Rod, Maria reminded herself. There’s nothing to be scared of.
He was the man who had saved her life in Three Lakes. The man she’d trusted to belay her as she climbed the Cracks to save the teenage boy Josh.
Had that really only been a few days ago?
The door of the small visiting room opened behind her. She turned, expecting her rising angst to calm once she saw Rod’s brilliant turquoise eyes and lopsided smile.
But there were no sparkling blue eyes or familiar smile.
Rod’s facial hair was untrimmed and ragged. The hair on his head was too short to be disheveled, but it mushed to one side. His eyes were a dull, pigeon gray. His face the color of a polluted sky.
What in the world had happened to him?
He swayed as he walked, a cross between a drunken frat student and someone dancing the Tango.
“Rod? You okay?” Maria stood up in case she had to catch him.
“I’ve never been better.” His breath came in sporadic pants. “Everything makes sense.”
“It does?” Maria watched him crisscross his way to his chair across the table from her. The guard who had led him in the room lifted his index finger to his temple and twirled it in a circle. The universal sign for crazy.
What was that about?
Rod plopped down in his chair and slouched backward, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Maria expected him to say something, but when he didn’t, she asked, “What’s going on, Rod?”
He scratched at his facial hair for a good ten seconds before answering. “We’re pawns. In the game. The Great Zon is calling the shots. But I know how to trick him. Throw him off the scent.”
“The Great Zon?” Maria had no idea who he was talking about.
“A-ma-zon.” Rod enunciated every syllable. “The mastermind of chaos and liberalism.” He stopped and swallowed and for the first time looked Maria in the face. “Or is it conservatism? Not sure. But it doesn’t matter. The Zon wants me dead, but I’m going to trick him. Dakota helped me figure out how. She told me last night that—”
“Dakota told you something last night?”
“Yes.” Rod picked at a scab that was forming on his arm.
“Dakota’s dead, Rod. We found her skeleton in the Superstition Mountains. Remember? The police came? You were arrested?” In front of the guard, Maria didn’t want to mention the other reason how they knew Dakota was dead—the fact that both she and Rod had seen her ghost.
Rod leaned in toward the table, his eyes shifting back and forth between the guard and Maria. “I’m so glad you came. I can warn you. Join me in the fight.”
“What?” Maria wished Beth could be here so she could see how bizarre Rod was acting.
Rod rambled on. “I’m going to beat him to it. I will get rid of myself before the Great Zon gets rid of me. You can too.” A long pause, then he whispered, “They have your number.”
“Rod, how are you going to get rid of yourself? What do you mean?” The sick feeling in Maria’s gut had only gotten worse.
Folding his arms around his chest, Rod looked like a mischievous preschooler. “I can’t tell you. It’s my secret.” Then he winked at Maria, as if it was some sort of shared joke.
Which it wasn’t.
Turning to the guard, Maria asked, “When did he start acting like this? And what are you guys doing about it?”
“He’s been rambling about the Great Zon and the land of the munchkins ever since I took my shift, about five hours ago. He won’t shut up until I ask him a question, and then he gets all moody and sullen. Like now.” The guard pointed his chin at Rod.
Rod now eyed Maria suspiciously, glowering at her. “Are you one of them?” And then with complete exasperation, he ran his hand over the top of his head. “The Great Zon has gotten to her too.”
Rod had never acted like this before. Over the last few months she had seen him almost daily. They had, at times, acted a little goofy together, like when they climbed every tree in the Kanab cemetery in honor of Mrs. Wolfgramme’s cat Cocoa Puffs. But this wasn’t goofy. Rod appeared seriously m
entally ill. How could it have come on so fast? Had it been building? Perhaps Rod hadn’t really seen Dakota’s ghost the other night at the restaurant. Maybe it had been the beginning of this psychosis?
As Rod continued to mumble to himself, Maria stood up and spoke to the guard. “This isn’t like him at all. We need to call his lawyer and let her know what’s going on. Is he being drugged?”
The guard grunted and then sarcastically answered, “Yeah, we give our prisoners all the drugs they want. You can call his lawyer if you want. It’s got nothing to do with—”
Rod jumped to his feet. “Don’t call that woman!” He shouted. “Dakota told me not to let her talk to me. She is the Great Zon. Please, don’t call her!”
Rod bent over and began to sob. Deep, gut wrenching noises erupted from deep within him.
Maria stiffened. Had there been an attacking grizzly bear in the room she would have known what to do. But this? She was helpless.
“Rod,” began Maria, “Melissa is not the Great—”
“Yes she is.” Rod’s lifted his face, cheeks wet with tears. Mucus ran from his nostrils. He ignored the box of Kleenex on the table. Instead, he let the mess run down his chin and fall uninterrupted onto his orange jumpsuit.
No, no, no, thought Maria. This couldn’t be happening.
Rod was going crazy. Undeniably bonkers. Where was Dr. Roberts when she needed him?
Maria reached out, trying to take his hand. Rod yelled at her. “No, you’re in league with the Zon!”
“No, I’m not. I’m Maria,” she said soothingly. “And you are Rod. We like to rock climb, watch James Bond movies, and star gaze.”
Rod’s hand was sweaty. It shook like a ninety-year-old man’s. And it was warm. Warmer than normal. Not sure how she missed it before, but his forehead was moist with perspiration.
As Maria spoke, Rod stared at her, confused at first. However, slowly a look of recognition crept into his face. “Maria?” he whispered.
“Yes, Rod?” she asked.
“Maria, something is wrong with me. I need help.”
Just then the door banged open and a second guard entered the room. “Okay, Looney Tunes,” he said to Rod, “your visiting time is up.”
Rod yanked his hand out of Maria’s, a look of panic in his eyes. “I can’t go back,” he yelled. “The Zon will get me!”
The guard covered his ears. “You gotta stop hollering, you hear?”
But Rod’s wails grew louder by the second. He swatted at the second guard who tried to make him stand up.
“I think he’s sick,” said Maria. She wrung her hands. “Could he see a doctor?”
“Ahhhhh!” Rod unsuccessfully tried to hit one of the guards who had pulled out his Taser. The officer pushed the device into Rod’s side. A loud clack sounded. Rod’s body jerked, and he fell to the floor. A burnt smell hung in the air.
“Stop it!” yelled Maria.
Rod had curled his legs into his chest and rocked on the floor in a fetal position. “Please no. Please no. Please no.” He repeated the plea over and over.
Maria dropped to the floor, suddenly realizing her fingernails were digging into her palms. She released her grip and tried to console Rod, rubbing his shoulder. His body shuddered at her touch, as if she were there to torture him, not trying to help.
Torture.
Maria’s thoughts betrayed her. Her mind returned to a time, a few years before, after a severe beating by one of the terrorist guards in her compound. She’d repeated the same words Rod was mumbling. She’d curled into herself on the cell floor. She’d begged for mercy.
Her mind swirled. Fallen comrades from her black ops team. They screamed at her from inside her head. Calling her a traitor. Disloyal. Maria looked down at the floor. She saw Rod’s look of desperation. He needed her now more than ever. Could she trust him? Did she have what it took to completely believe in him instead of choosing the easier, safer path of accusation?
Closing her eyes, Maria inhaled.
Deeply.
“Ma’am?”
Maria’s eyes popped open. The security guard was at her side, staring at her. “We need you to leave so we can deal with the prisoner. He has another bail hearing set for today, and we need to get him there.”
“He’s in no shape for a hearing.”
“That’s not my call. Can we have you exit through the door?”
“Yes. Give me a second.” Maria looked down at Rod. “You there?”
He turned his head. Eyes empty. Mouth in a grimace. Yes, the Taser had hurt him, but what showed on his face was terror, not just pain. She knew that look well.
“Rod, I’m going to get you out of here. You didn’t do it. I know that. But who do you think did? Which one of your friends would want to frame you for Dakota’s murder?”
He stared at her a second, nodded, and then whispered, “The Great Zon.”
Maria listened to Dr. Roberts’ entire voicemail message before leaving one of her own. The calmness in his voice felt safe and secure—like a mini therapy session in and of itself. When the psychologist’s voice finally stopped and the beep sounded, Maria tried to match his soft spoken demeanor. “Hi. Maria Branson here. Call me.” She was about to hang up but then added, “Pl-Please.” Her voice cracked. So much for pretenses.
Beth took her hand off the steering wheel and patted Maria’s knee. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Honestly,” Maria said, “I don’t think it is. Not this time. I’m telling you, Rod was out of his mind.”
As Beth drove the two of them back to Brian’s house, Maria recounted every detail of the conversation with Rod at the jail. “He was acting mental, going on about the Great Zon.”
Beth snorted, glancing in her rearview mirror and changing lanes. “Rod doesn’t even like online shopping. He asked me to order him something off of Amazon because he didn’t have Prime. I’m surprised he’s even heard of the ‘Great Zon.’”
“I know. At the end I realized Rod might be sick. He felt kinda hot. Maybe he has some fever-induced delirium.” Frowning, Maria picked up her phone and called Melissa. Nothing but voicemail.
Where was everyone?
Frustrated, she pulled a notebook from her backpack. “I need to think.” As Beth drove, Maria wrote down the names of everyone in Rod’s alumni group of friends. True, the murderer could be someone else, but she tended to agree with Melissa. What was the likelihood of a group of friends being in the Superstition Mountains, and, in that vast wilderness area, the six of them happening to find Dakota’s skeleton? Pretty slim. It had to have been orchestrated. But by whom?
Clyde had been the one who found the skeleton. Maria circled Derrick’s name. He owned Clyde. It would have been easy for Derrick to plant some random skeleton in the Superstitions and shown the dog where it was—so he could sniff it out during the hike. So far there was no solid proof the skeleton was Dakota’s. The head had conveniently been removed, leaving no teeth to match dental records. Sure, the bones were being analyzed, but most likely there was no DNA matter left since they had been exposed to the elements so long.
Maria definitely needed to get some feelers out about Derrick. However, the entire reunion had been Rep. Lankin’s idea, not Derrick’s. Maria circled Rod’s former professor’s name. Why would a man in the midst of trying to build up a political career ask a handful of former students to get together and go hiking in the Superstitions? Seemed odd.
Something else nagged at Maria. Almost without thinking, she circled Melissa’s name. The way the woman had jumped at the chance to defend Rod was almost … a little too anxious. Almost like she hadn’t wanted anyone else to have had the chance. What if Melissa had wanted to defend Rod so badly because she planned to throw the trial? Sure, she was a qualified lawyer, but was she trustworthy?
Speaking of trustworthy. . . Maria drew a line around Brian’s name. She trusted this guy as far as she could throw him or his mansion. Mr. Playboy. Women. Alcohol. Probably drugs. Who knew what he’d
gotten himself messed up in? How far would he go to try and cover his mistakes? What about a mistake that may have involved him and Dakota?
Which brought up the subject of Tom.
A neurotic girlfriend/wife stealer. He liked unavailable women, and Dakota had definitely been unavailable. Tom had made a pass at Dakota on her wedding day. What if it had gone further than that? What if the two of them had been having an affair? Dakota might have told Tom she was going to come clean to Rod. Maybe Tom freaked out. Killed her to keep her quiet?
“What are you doing?” asked Beth.
Maria looked down at the ink rings she was drawing around Tom’s name. “I’m circling the suspects.”
Beth laughed. “Good to see you’ve narrowed it down. You’ve circled everybody’s name.”
Maria grimace. “Yeah, I guess I did.” She stared at the paper a moment longer. “But in my defense, they’re all weird.”
“I completely agree.” Beth sighed.
Maria joined her in an exasperated exhale of air. “What I can’t figure out is why now? Dakota died six years ago. Whoever killed her had gotten away with it. Why run the risk of resurrecting a cold case unless you wanted something like . . .”
“Money.” Beth finished Maria’s sentence. “I didn’t ever tell you this because … well because you’re weird about rich people and I didn’t want it to turn you off about Rod, but … he’s loaded.”
“I know. Melissa told me,” said Maria. “I felt pretty stupid to admit that as his girlfriend I had no—”
“Wow,” Beth interrupted. “You are making progress. You called yourself his girlfriend. That’s new.”
“It is not.” Maria waved her hand in the air, as if trying to magically remove the goofy smile off of Beth’s face. “I’ve been calling myself that for … days. Well, except for when he was arrested.”
Beth was clearly amused. She cranked the air conditioner all the way up. Phoenix air seemed to get hotter by the second. “Well, Maria Branson, a.k.a. Rod’s girlfriend, what did Melissa say about your boyfriend’s money?”
Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure Page 38