Paranormal Mystery Boxset Books 1-3: Legends of Treasure

by Lois D. Brown

  Rod’s eyes widened. “The undead?”

  Maria flinched. There were way too many eyes and ears seeing and listening. The conversation was moving into territory that made Maria nervous—at least to discuss in public. It was time to do something about this mess.

  “Everyone, listen up,” Maria shouted, turning as she spoke so all could hear. “Today’s situation is an isolated incident of an angry husband and a frustrated worker. No harm was intended. Parents, we are truly sorry your children were exposed to improper behavior coming from adults. It’s a good reminder of how we should act toward each other.”

  A large number of the parents nodded and hushed their children, telling them to pay attention.

  Maria forged on. “However, there is nothing else for anyone to do here today, so please take your kids home.” Maria saw the school principal about to speak and so she added, “But be sure to check with your child’s teacher first.”

  “Not so fast,” shouted one dad among the crowd. “I want to know if there really are Native American remains here. I’ve heard stories about towns displacing things like burial grounds and then everybody ends up being cursed.”

  A few parents laughed. Others covered their kids’ ears.

  “You may think it’s funny,” the man continued, “but it’s true. We need to know what’s going on here. It will affect everyone.”

  “The guy is looney tunes,” Grant whispered to Rod but loud enough for Maria to hear. “Probably watches too much TV.”

  Natalie giggled loud enough for everyone to hear and then kissed him on the cheek. “This is a crack up. We have crazies in my city, but not like this.”

  Maria, however, had a completely different perspective. She’d been around enough ghosts to agree with the man. Who knew? Maybe he’d had run-ins of the spectral variety himself. Cursing or no cursing, burial sites were not meant to be desecrated. If there was one thing Acalan, her Aztec ghost, had taught her, it was to leave dead things alone.

  Yet, however much Maria agreed with the dad, the place and timing of his comment could not have been worse. The faces of over half the elementary school kids had drained of color.

  “Jim,” Maria said out the side of her mouth, “is there any way you can put these kids’ fears to rest?”

  Jim looked at her and shook his head. “No, I think the man is right. It’s better to face this situation than hide behind bureaucracy.” He glanced at the stack of permits and inspection papers that Rod had given to Maria to hold. “But these people will not care what I have to say. They need to hear it from one of their own. Like you, Maria.”

  “Me?” Maria stepped backward involuntarily. The area surrounding her seemed to grow a deadly quiet despite the number of people there.

  Jim moved toward Maria and spoke softly. “Yes, Maria. You know what kind of land this is. I don’t have to tell you. You have the Sight. The Materfamilias and I have spoken.”

  “Don’t,” answered Maria. Embarrassment licked her face. She turned to walk away, but bumped directly into Mrs. Wolfgramme who had been purposefully sticking close to Maria like glue.

  “Do tell,” said Mrs. Wolfgramme, the curiosity spewing from her, “what is the Sight? And why does this man think you know about this land more than anyone else?”

  A sea of eyes focused on Maria.

  Maria shook her head once. Then twice. “I have no idea.”

  Jim frowned. Under his breath he chided Maria. “Don’t be ashamed of who you are.”

  Maria turned to him, her insides melting from the raw emotion flowing through her veins. “For your information, I am not ashamed.”

  “Liar.” Jim stood his ground. “If you ever want to know what you’re capable of, you have to embrace your gift.”

  Though no one actually touched Maria, she felt claustrophobic. Bodies pressed on her. Mrs. Wolfgramme. Ms. Stone. Mr. Walden. Rod and company. Pete with the two men who had thrown punches. Tara Crane. Jim. The representatives from the EPA. Half the town of Kanab, quite literally.

  Inhaling deeply, Maria focused on Jim. This was not the way she’d wanted learn about what Materfamilias had meant when she told Maria about the Sight. However, after everything Maria had experienced since moving to Kanab, maybe it was worth doing whatever it took to find out why she was different.

  “If I do this,” she whispered to Jim, “Will I understand … stuff … better?”

  “It will be a start.”

  There were more whispers around her. But for the first time in a long while Maria didn’t care. She was sick of feeling like she was the freak with two heads. The camel with three humps. She wanted to know why she saw ghosts. And why she, of all people, had seen the ranger in Arizona transform from a man to a bird.

  “The Sight is a journey,” said Jim, his voice taking a sing-songy vague tone. “One that is yours to traverse in the—”

  “Stop it.” Maria scowled. “You talk in mysteries. Well, I don’t. I speak in English. Small words. Short sentences. You should give it a try. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

  A hundred people had never been so quiet.

  Ever.

  Jim reached out his hand and took Maria by the arm. As if they were the Grand Marshalls of a parade, he led her to the edge of the small portion of the reservoir where the water had already been filled. The liquid lapped at the side.

  Behind them everyone followed in a procession like in the fairy tale of the king with the golden goose. First Mrs. Wolfgramme and Ms. Stone. Behind them came Mr. Walden, Rod, Tara, Grant, and Natalie. Pete was next in line followed by the protestors and construction workers. Bringing up the rear were Beth and Justin, along with all of the other parents and children.

  Despite the commotion behind her, Maria felt removed from everyone but Jim. His presence was like a magnet to her. Her limbs felt light, buoyant. If Jim hadn’t been there to keep her tethered to reality she might have floated away into … awareness? Was there even such a thing?

  She hoped for answers, but worried that what was about to happen would give her more questions. Regardless, she couldn’t stop from following the urge. A growing force inside her core made that a certainty. She was in the same place as everyone else, but not in the same time. Or was it a different dimension into which she had crossed?

  Clouds swirled in the azure sky. Time and space had no meaning. The earth felt younger and older at the same time. So did Maria. It was like being a child all over again, from the wise perspective of a grandparent.

  “Touch it,” said Jim.

  Maria knew exactly what he meant.

  The water in the reservoir. She had to feel it on her skin.

  Reaching her fingers into the wetness, she heard each tiny wave in a mass cacophony of movement. Along with a single voice.

  Mother Earth’s?

  No. It was human. More specifically, it was a man’s.

  Maria called to him. Not with words, but with a growing power inside her.

  I am here.

  And the man answered back.

  So am I.

  A collision of past and present inside of Maria exploded. She thought she might faint.

  The crowd pushed forward, trying to get a better look at what was happening at the water’s edge. A few of the men, including Rod, were trying to hold them back, keeping Maria and Jim safe as they bent down, heads drooped, with the tips of their fingers in the water.

  The first ripple in the reservoir was noticed by just a few. The second ripple caught the eye of more onlookers. By the sixth or seventh ripple a heightened excitement ran through the crowd. Something in the reservoir was moving. Coming closer.

  Slowly.

  Cautiously.

  An ancient skull bobbed out of the water ten feet from where Maria’s fingers brushed the surface. Three more bones—a femur, tibia, and pelvis—followed immediately afterward. No more than one minute later, an entire human skeleton had surfaced from the shallow depths.

  Remains from a time before. Memories of a past l
ong forgotten—until now.

  Maria had called them from the depths, in front of everyone. And even worse, in front of Rod.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Between October 2009 and October 2012 … excavations at ten Native American sites in [Kanab] were undertaken as part of the process for the construction of a new dam and reservoir.

  “JACKSON FLAT RESERVOIR,” PLPCO, UTAH’S PUBLIC LANDS POLICY COORDINATING OFFICE, HTTP://PUBLICLANDS.UTAH.GOV/ ARCHAEOLOGY/ARCHAEOLOGY-PROJECTS/JACKSON-FLAT-RESERVOIR/

  “Definitely Anasazi,” said Jim, who hadn’t left Maria’s side since the “incident.”

  Maria studied the skull she’d bizarrely summoned from the water.

  Jim continued. “You can tell from the skull. The back of it has been artificially flattened. It’s a tell tale sign of that tribe.”

  The more Maria thought about what had happened, the more she wanted to be angry at Jim. It was like he’d hypnotized her and now everyone at the reservoir—and the rest of the town since Kanab’s newspaper reporter was present—knew she was some kind of freak.

  “The body had been buried there for quite some time.” Jim stared at the pieces of the skeleton arranged on the blanket on the ground. He and Maria were the last of the people still at the reservoir site besides a pair of security guards positioned by the EPA for the next few days.

  Jim moved his head up and down. “The original archaeological inspection was not thorough. This is clearly an Anasazi site. The pit houses are not recognizable, per se, but to a professional it’s obvious.”

  “There are pit houses around here?”

  “Absolutely, but I didn’t want to get into it with your friend, Rod.”

  “Not my friend.” Maria sighed. “I mean, I guess he is my friend, but not really. We used to be …”

  “… an item.” Jim gave her a knowing glance.

  “Yeah.” Why did Maria bother even talking out loud to Jim? He seemed to know all her thoughts before she verbalized them anyway. She picked up a bone. “So why couldn’t you just tell people about the pit houses before we stuck our hands in the water? That would have saved us some trouble.”

  Jim shrugged. “Why do you think?”

  Maria recalled the moment her hand touched the water and the strange sensations she had experienced. “You’re trying to teach me how to connect with the Sight, or whatever you call it, but I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s weird.” Each time Maria tried to envision what it must have looked like when the bones floated up from the depths of the reservoir at the exact moment she’d put her hand in the water it made her cringe. What did people think of her?

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  Those three words were going to be her new mantra. Honestly, when she thought about it, what she’d done at the reservoir was actually pretty awesome. Before Tehran, Maria would have taken her odd “super powers” and flaunted them as part of her “outstanding” CIA profile.

  But after Tehran things had been different. More real, and yet not. It was all about perception and “trying” to look normal because she feared standing out. She craved anonymity.

  And why, of all the bad luck, had Rod been there when it happened?

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  “Earth to Maria?” said Jim, in a way that let Maria know he’d been trying to get her attention for a while.

  “Sorry,” said Maria. “What did you say?”

  “I said Craig Snyder and Gloria McCoy from the EPA contacted Mr. Walden. They told him according to the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, all construction on the reservoir must cease until further notification. As police chief, you’ll need to enforce that injunction. It doesn’t mean he can’t build the reservoir, but it may not be in the same place. We’ll have to get some people in here to take a look.”

  “Okay. Good to know.” Maria bit her lip. There were plenty of people who would be upset about the construction delay. Enforcing the reservoir closure would be a lonely job, and she would have no one to confide in—especially not Rod. He was Mr. Walden’s lawyer, for pity’s sake. No, it was time to buckle down and be her own woman.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Jim eyed her carefully.

  “Fine. I’m fine. Nothing a little hard work can’t solve.”

  Jim patted her back. “Will you promise me something?”

  Maria grinned. “No more pony tricks for today, I hope.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Jim shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just … I get the feeling someone is going to cause you pain—a deep mental anguish. The feeling is strong and it’s got me out of sorts.”

  “You, out of sorts?” laughed Maria. “I guess I’d better pay attention.”

  “I’m being serious,” countered Jim.

  “Sorry. I guess I’d hoped the anguish coming my way had already happened,” said Maria as she recalled the night on the mountain when Rod broke up with her.

  “No.” Jim shook his head, as if he had read Maria’s mind, which he probably had. “That’s not the kind of pain coming. This is dangerous.”

  Maria shuddered unintentionally. When Jim said something like that it felt as certain as if it had already happened. “Jim, can you give me a little more to go on? Like a way to stop whatever it is?”

  Jim raised his arm high above Maria’s head and combed at the air with his fingers. Despite the gentleness of his movements, Maria felt strands of hair lift off her head.

  “May the warm winds of heaven blow softly upon your house,” he whispered. “May the Great Spirit bless all who enter there.” Jim closed his eyes. “May your moccasins make happy tracks in many snows, and may the rainbow always touch your shoulder.”

  Warmth spread from the top of Maria’s head to deep inside her stomach. It soothed her and calmed the rising panic after hearing Jim’s prediction of oncoming trouble.

  Jim lowered his hands. All was quiet for a moment.

  “What was that?” asked Maria in a subdued voice.

  “A Cherokee prayer blessing,” answered Jim.

  “Does it work?”

  “Depends what you mean by work.” Jim folded his arms.

  “Will it keep the danger away?”

  He shook his head. “No. Nothing can do that. But it can strengthen you for the battle. Help you face your foe. Keep your determination strong. And the prayer will put you to sleep if you say it enough times before going to bed.” He grinned.

  Maria cocked her head, surprised. “Were you trying to be funny?”

  Jim looked at her in his intent way. “I am never funny. But it is good to smile. Especially….” He trailed off.

  “Especially what?” Maria probed.

  “Especially when evil is coming your way.”

  Maria started. The pelting of bombs had awoken her. Her hands instinctively reached up to rub the sleep from her eyes.

  No, it wasn’t the pelting of bombs that had awoken her, but rather she had been awakened from the pelting of bombs in her dream about Tehran.

  Blackness surrounded Maria except for a weakly glowing night light she always had plugged into one of the electrical sockets in her bedroom.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  She jerked and jumped up, landing on her feet. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw the blurry outline of a man standing a few feet from the foot of her bed.

  Her arms flew up, ready to strike. But there was something strange about the image. On impulse, she squeezed her eye shut, shook her head, and then cautiously opened her eyelids.

  No one. Her bedroom was empty.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  The noise was coming from the front room. Or, more accurately, her front door.

  “What the….” Maria looked at her alarm clock. It was ten minutes past two o’clock in the morning. Who would be beating down her door at this time of night? She
glanced at her phone and saw she had twenty-two missed calls. Before going to bed, she’d determined she needed to get some good sleep after the events of the day so she’d turned her phone on silent on purpose.

  Clearly a bad decision.

  Maria pulled on her bathrobe and called out to whoever was trying to bash down her front door. “Hang on. I’m coming!”

  Seconds later she was in her living room. “Who is it?” she asked the door, still not sure if she was in the middle of a very vivid dream.

  “It’s Pete, Maria!”

  With a twist of the deadbolt and a pull on the door knob, Maria stood face-to-face with her disheveled assistant.

  “Pete, what’s going on?” said Maria, who was now ninety-nine percent certain she was awake. She never dreamed about Pete.

  “Beth,” he panted. “I mean, Justin.”

  “Yes?” said Maria, a mass of anxiety forming in her gut.

  Pete slowed himself. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to contact you.”

  “I saw that. I’m sorry. My phone was on silent. Pete, what’s wrong with Justin and Beth?” Maria held her breath for Pete’s reply.

  He swallowed and finally got the words out. “Justin’s gone. Someone’s taken him.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  One archaeologist is leading an effort by archaeologists to excavate an area scheduled to be bulldozed to make way for a new dam and reservoir [in Kanab]. His team … found evidence of a culture that apparently thrived for 800 years and vanished about 1000 A.D. After the first body was unearthed, the archaeologist said a Native American warned him that many more would be found.

  “MODERN-DAY PROJECT DISRUPTS ANCIENT BURIAL SITE IN KANAB” BY JOHN HOLLENHORST, DESERET NEWS, FEB. 7, 2011.

  The windows of Beth’s house were aglow, announcing to the night that something amiss was going on. Several of her neighbors’ homes were also alive with activity. A man in cotton pajama bottoms and tousled hair held a flashlight, which he methodically shone back and forth on the outside of Beth’s house.