Maria groaned and rolled over. She couldn’t squander another moment on this mountainside. Whether or not Rod wanted to be a part of her life was unimportant. At least she had her life. And that was enough motivation to get up, put her metallic blanket away, and use the flashlight feature on her phone to stumble down the mountain back home.
She was a survivor, which meant she had to survive. And to do that she had to go through the motions of being police chief in Kanab for one more day. She would do it, and she would play the part well.
She had to. She would do it for Jerry, Deborah, Alex, Gil, Samantha, and Ryan. And she would do it to show the loathsome men who had kept her captive in Tehran that they would never, ever get the best of her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Because of a popular and ingrained perception that sedentary ancient cultures were peaceful, archaeologists have been reluctant to acknowledge that the Anasazi could have been violent. [But] after excavating sites… archaeologist teams found the remains of individuals who met violent deaths—skulls bashed in—and others who might have been battle victims, their skeletons left sprawling.
“RIDDLES OF THE ANASAZI” BY DAVID ROBERTS, SMITHSONIAN MAGAZINE, JULY 2003.
At 8:30 a.m. Maria’s cell phone chimed. She looked at the screen to see if it was possibly Rod calling to tell her he’d changed his mind. That he hadn’t been feeling well when he’d said the things he had last night.
The screen showed Pete’s name. Her hard-working associate at the police station. “Hello, Pete,” she answered, no trace of last night’s disappointment in her voice.
“Maria, I know you don’t get in until 9 a.m. today, but we’ve got some people from Nevada’s sheriff department here wanting to interview you about the incident in the creek. One of the perpetrators is back on the loose and they’d like to gather a little more info from you.”
“Thanks, Pete. I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“Great. See you then.”
“And Pete?” Maria added.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for doing such a great job. I don’t tell you that enough.” Maria hung up and slipped the phone into her pocket. It was time to get to work.
About once a week Maria had to actually pull the siren out from under the front passenger seat of her cop car and put it on the roof. That was how often she had the need to go fast in Kanab.
Today was such a day.
While the briefing from the Nevada police had gone well in the morning, ever since then things had been busy. First a shoplifting at the drug store and then a domestic dispute. The latest call had come from Beth about a disturbance at the reservoir, which was under construction.
Maria radioed Pete as her siren blared.
“Pete,” she barked, “get over to the new reservoir as soon as you can. I’m headed there now, and I hear it’s a nightmare. Total chaos.”
A few seconds later Pete’s voice came through the receiver. “This is Pete. What’s going on at the reservoir?”
“From what I can tell … a riot.”
“What?” Pete’s surprise matched hers.
“I got a call from Beth a minute ago. She said there was an elementary field trip today to see some of the unique rock formations out east of where they’re building the new reservoir. Apparently, while the kids were there, some protestors against the construction of the reservoir showed up and an altercation ensued between one of the protestors and a construction worker.”
Pete whistled long and hard over the radio. “My guess is Mrs. Wolfgramme has been up to her activist work again.”
Mrs. Wolfgramme? Good grief. That woman had her fingers into everything. She was the one who led a picket line against the police department when they arrested Whitney Thatcher in connection with the mayor’s murder.
“Okay, that’s making more sense,” said Maria. “Heaven knows no one in their right mind would want to make Mrs. Wolfgramme mad.” She flipped on her blinker and made a right turn to get onto the state highway leading to the reservoir.
“How did Beth know about the altercation?” asked Pete.
“A bunch of the kids texted their parents photos of what was going on, so then half the parents in town, including Beth, drove over to make sure their kids were okay and check on the situation.”
“Great,” Pete mumbled. “Grumpy parents. My least favorite kind of people.”
“Oh, it gets worse,” continued Maria. “Beth said not too long ago the developer showed up as well as some officials from the EPA along with a Tribal Representative. I think it’s an all-out free for all.”
“Gotcha. I’m on my way.” Pete’s voice was tense.
“Thanks, Pete,” Maria said. “I’m headed there now as well. I’ve got a feeling I may need back up, especially if Mrs. Wolfgramme is involved.”
Pete snorted and signed off.
Maria hung up her own radio and pushed on the gas pedal.
It was like the town had decided to hold its own version of Woodstock, minus the flowered tie-dye t-shirts and incense burners. With only a cursory glance, Maria found it hard to distinguish between protestor and parent, construction worker and government official. Maria opened the car door and stood up, using the edge of her vehicle to gain a few feet of added height. She wanted to get a full view of the situation.
Parts of the reservoir had already been filled with water that gave off a faint sewer smell. The hot afternoon sun was strong enough to melt plastic. Maria wiped the perspiration from her forehead and looked carefully into the crowd.
Sure enough, Mrs. Wolfgramme was there with picket sign in hand. She was talking to a dishwater blond man with a trimmed beard and slight frame. Despite his build, he was no nonsense through and through. A grim face, squinty eyes, and pointy chin gave that away. An expensive business suit—tailored in the chest with pegged pant legs below—added to his overall “don’t touch me” demeanor. Next to Mrs. Wolfgramme was Karen Stone, a pseudo environmental advocate in the community who had vied for and lost a spot on the city council not too long ago.
To their right was Tara Crane, past girlfriend to Rod and current tourism director for Kanab. She was speaking with Mark Lyon, journalist from the Kanab paper—the same one who had written about Maria’s confrontation at the creek with the fugitives from Nevada.
Speaking of the creek, Justin and Beth stood on the outer edge of a group of parents and kids. Whatever he’d seen hadn’t bothered him too much. He was smiling at Maria. He waved at her and pointed to where a construction worker sat on the ground holding an icepack to his nose. A good thirty feet from him was a college-aged kid dressed in cut-off shorts and a well-worn t-shirt who had a bruise the size of Texas forming on his cheekbone.
A set of government-issued cars were parked by the completed section of the reservoir, which made up about twenty percent of the total project. Maria had heard rumors that a construction worker at the reservoir had found a human bone, most likely Native American in origin, but the worker was fired once the construction manager had gotten wind of her story.
Maria jumped down from her perch and was about to make headway into the crowd when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rod’s car drive up. It took all her energy to force herself not to look that direction. The car screeched to a stop and out tumbled Rod, Grant, and his new girlfriend, Natalie.
That made it official. The entire town and all the tourists were here. It would have been a good day to be in the snow cone business. With the large crowd and the heat, sales would be booming. As it was, Maria gulped down the last bit of warm liquid from the bottom of her water bottle and left the light on top of her police car flashing, but she turned off the sound. She needed people to respect the badge. Maybe a flashing red light in their eyes would help.
Bee-lining into the mass of bodies, Maria sought out the overdressed man in the suit. Since he smelled of money, she figured he was the developer and had most likely played a most important role in all of this.
Unfortunately, Mrs.
Wolfgramme saw Maria before she had reached her destination.
“Oh Chief!” the older woman called out. “Yoo-hoo, over here, Chief! Just so you know, I’ve been trying to amicably settle things between Mr. John Walden, Ms. Stone, and myself. I represent a group of concerned citizens of Kanab for the protection of the Ancient Ones.”
Maria waved at the woman to let her know she was on her way to speak with them. When she arrived, she shook Mrs. Wolfgramme’s hand and then turned to the stone-faced developer. He wasn’t a large man, but had a face that had intimidated its fair share of executives around boardroom tables.
“Mr. Walden, is it?” asked Maria.
“Yes.” With an incredibly firm grip, the man pumped Maria’s hand exactly twice before letting it drop.
“And Ms. Stone?” Maria smiled at the former city council candidate member-turned-environmental evangelist.
“Speaking,” said the woman. She was broad shouldered and sturdily built. Her quiet voice was in direct contrast to her muscular frame. “Chief, I am the leader of the protestors, but I assure you it was to be a peaceful protest.”
Maria pulled out an old-fashioned notebook and pen. She didn’t really have to take notes, her memory was better than most, but she wanted everyone to feel she was paying close attention. It was a trick she’d learned. “Mr. Walden and Ms. Stone, could one of you catch me up to speed?”
“I wasn’t here when the fight began,” said Mr. Walden, “but I think it stems from a fabricated story a lady who worked here created to explain to her family why she got fired.”
“Are you referring to the rumor about a woman who found Native American remains out here?” asked Maria.
“Yes.” Mr. Walden nodded. “My site manager told me he’d seen the woman in question smoking marijuana, so he let her go.”
“Lies!” declared Mrs. Wolfgramme. “I know Anna Belle, and while she’s not perfect, she is not some pothead. Absolutely not.”
“I have to agree,” said Ms. Stone. “The woman in question, as you call her, has a very strong case. If she takes the matter to court, I’m sure she’ll win an unlawful termination verdict.”
Mr. Walden turned a shade of pink. Clearly he had not met enough women like Mrs. Wolfgramme and Ms. Stone during his time spent in executive boardrooms. They were much more of a handful than any CEOs Maria had ever come across.
“Ladies, I can assure you all rules and regulations have been followed.” He took a breath and added, “At least, that is what I’ve been told. The young man over there,” he pointed to the protestor, “is the husband of Anna Belle, isn’t that correct?”
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Wolfgramme.
Ms. Stone nodded.
“He approached one of my workers upset. The two exchanged heated words which led to one of them hitting the other in the face and the other one following suit. I’m not sure who got physical first, but I’m sure the school kids watching would be happy to tell you. Most of them have it filmed on their phones.”
“I suspect you’re correct,” said Maria. “Can you tell me if you have had any other protests, either physical or in court, over the reservoir? I assume you got all the proper site inspections and permits?”
“Yes, actually, he did.”
The answer was not from Mr. Walden but from a voice behind Maria. She spun around to see Rod holding a stack of official looking documents. Accompanying Rod were Grant and Natalie.
“Excuse me?” said Maria, taken aback.
Rod tentatively held up a stack of papers. “As Mr. Walden’s legal representative, I can assure you that he has all of the required paperwork to build a reservoir on this land. He’s doing nothing illegal.”
The shock of seeing Rod had derailed Maria. “You’re his lawyer?”
“Yes.” An odd look spread on Rod’s face, which he quickly hid. He pushed the legal papers forward, inviting Maria to take a look at them for herself.
Maria stared at Rod, looked down at the papers, and then back up at him. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why couldn’t he be one of those scrawny measly-looking lawyers on TV?
“Thanks, Mr. Thorton,” said Maria, reaching out to take the documents.
“When did you start calling your boyfriend Mr. Thorton?” asked Mrs. Wolfgramme in the only tone she knew—loud. Then, turning back to Mr. Walden she added, “You know, I’m the one to thank that these two people got together in the first place. I’m good at match-making like that.”
“I would have never guessed,” answered Mr. Walden, who appeared confused at the direction the conversation had taken.
“Mr. Thorton and I are no longer seeing each other socially,” said Maria to anyone within earshot.
Rod, who looked as if he might have swallowed of few mouthfuls of the dry sand, nodded. “Yes, I’m here as Mr. Walden’s lawyer. Errr … nothing more.”
A new voice rose out of the ever-growing group of people surrounding Mr. Walden, Ms. Stone, Mrs. Wolfgramme, and Maria. “I wondered when you two would call it quits. Figured it’d be soon.” Tara Crane, director of tourism and PR in Kanab, had made her way over to the discussion.
“Let’s get back on subject,” Maria growled. “There was a physical assault here earlier, and I’m going to find out why. I’m perfectly capable of doing that without the whole town chiming in.”
Just then, a pair of eight-year-old arms wrapped around Maria’s waist and squeezed. “Hey, Chief. Did you know I’m the one who told my mom to call you? I knew you needed to be here to sort it all out.” Looking around at all the adults he’d just interrupted, Justin pointed at Maria and added, “Chief is the best.”
Blushing, Maria bent over and gave Justin a hug. “It’s good to see you. Thanks for thinking to have your mom call me. Are the kids getting ready to head on home?”
“Yeah. The principal showed up and he’s trying to see which students’ parents are here and which aren’t. He keeps calling today ‘his biggest nightmare.’ Do you want to come and meet my friends? I’ve told them all about you.”
Maria laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Justin, I will if I can. Right now I need to talk with the grownups and see what is going on. How about I stop by tomorrow and take you for a Slurpee?”
“Okay, Chief. See you tomorrow.” Justin gave Maria’s waist one last squeeze before running back to his mother.
Just then Maria felt a tap on her shoulder. “Chief, what would you like me to do?” Pete asked.
Relieved to have backup, Maria patted Pete’s arm. “Will you go check if either of the individuals in the altercation wants to press charges? They’re over there.” She pointed.
“Sure thing.” As Pete turned to leave, Maria saw that standing behind him was someone she didn’t expect to ever see again. Seriously, the riot at the reservoir was turning into one big reunion.
“Jim?” asked Maria in utter amazement.
“Maria!” A wide grin spread between two piercingly dark eyes.
Jim—who had no last name—was an expert on all things Native American. Maria had worked with him while investigating Mayor Hayward’s disappearance. In addition to helping her with the case, Jim had used some rather unorthodox methods to aid Maria on her path to recovery from PTSD. The memory of their meeting in the middle of the night on Moquith Mountain held a sacred spot in Maria’s heart, and in her little toe.
Jim was not alone. A man and a woman, both of whom had the look of being from the government, flanked him on both sides.
“It’s so great to see you!” exclaimed Maria. “What on earth are you doing here? I had no idea you were back in town.”
Jim subtly bowed and then put his hand out for an all-American handshake from Maria. His jet black, long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the wrinkles on his face betrayed his age—a timeless fifty. “The pleasure is mine, Maria. I’m here as a consultant for the Environmental Protection Agency.” Jim gestured to the man, and then the woman at his side. “Meet Craig Snyder and Gloria McCoy. Both senior officers.”<
br />
“I had no idea Kanab was having a visit from the EPA today.” Maria looked around, growing more and more baffled at the number of people who had gathered.
“We weren’t on an official visit,” Mr. Snyder said, stepping forward. “We had heard rumors and thought we would bring Jim here to … well … take a quick look. I have no idea how the protestors found out we were coming.”
“News travels fast in a small town,” answered Maria. “Nothing stays secret very long.”
“I guess not.” The pinched-faced Gloria McCoy looked around with a hint of fear.
Maria turned to her old friend. “Jim, I assume you’re here investigating rumors about this being a Native American burial ground?”
“I am.” Jim nodded.
“So what’s the verdict? Is Mr. Walden building on a sacred site?”
Jim was about to say something when Rod spoke up, as professional sounding as Maria had ever heard him. “Not to offend the EPA, or you Chief Branson, but the developer has already had multiple inspections on the land. Everything has come up clean. There’s no reason to go into all of this right now, not while half the town is here feeling riled up.”
Jim pursed his lips together and looked at Maria then Rod. His gaze knowingly took in the tension that existed between them. At last he said, “No offense taken, sir.”
“Rod Thorton.” He held out his hand to Jim. “We met briefly during the search for the mayor. I’m legal representation for Mr. Walden, the developer of this project. I can assure you he has followed all the rules and regulations the state and federal government has mandated.”
Jim smiled. “Mr. Thorton, rest assured, I’m not here to cast blame. I am here to protect the innocent, whoever that may be.” He looked into the sky for a moment, murmured something to himself, and then continued talking. “Trust me. I’ve seen plenty of inspections done in full confidence, with no ill intent, that had dire consequences on everyone involved. The dead, the undead, and the living. I’m just here to help.”
Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure Page 56