“A riddle? That’s odd. Let me think on that a bit.”
“What sort of criminal would do that?” asked Maria.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to see if I can find some sort of precedent.”
Maria was glad she wasn’t the only one feeling confused about the letter. “I wish the FBI would hurry and get here and start forensics.”
“They will be there soon. Keep me posted, Maria. I care about you. I hope you know that.”
His kindness made her shrink. She didn’t deserve kindness. She deserved to be locked up in a cell where her presence couldn’t hurt anyone else.
“I will, Dr. Roberts. Thanks for calling.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
[Despite efforts] a water storage facility planned in Kanab has disrupted an ancient Native American burial site where now more than 50 bodies have been unearthed.
“DAM PROJECT UNEARTHS ANCIENT BURIAL SITE IN KANAB,” THE SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE, FEB 13, 2011.
The FBI arrived at Beth’s home at 9:17 a.m. They ushered everyone off the property and began their investigation. They took the letter addressed to Maria (but not before she had taken several pictures of it from every angle she could) and told her to meet them later that day at the police station to debrief.
That was at one p.m. She had to do something for the next three hours or she would go insane. And it certainly wasn’t going to be writing speeding tickets.
In the past, the Kanab librarian, Ms. Tuttle, had always come through for Maria when she needed information. With the situation being so desperate, Maria didn’t think it could hurt to have a genius librarian take a look at the strange riddle—though she’d have to be clandestine about it. Technically, Maria shouldn’t be sharing evidence like this.
At that time in the morning, the Kanab library was technically still closed. However, Ms. Tuttle had unlocked the front door and was sitting inside at the circulation desk as if she knew Maria would come.
“Oh my dear,” she said, skirting around the counter and hugging Maria. The librarian’s arms felt like a blanket of comfort. Yet, every time someone showed kindness to Maria it made her feel worse. It reinforced her gut feeling that everything was somehow her fault.
No one, after all, was wrapping their arms around Justin, reassuring him everything was going to turn out fine.
Ms. Tuttle embraced her again and Maria stiffened out of her growing guilt.
“Sorry,” Ms. Tuttle said. “I’ll quit the hugs. You’re here for help. Not comfort. What can I do?”
“You heard about Justin?” Maria could hardly say his name.
“News travels fast in Kanab.” Ms. Tuttle’s eyes were like stars in the dark recesses of a nightmare. They brought the first sign of hope since Pete had woken Maria up in the night to tell her of Justin’s kidnapping.
“What do you know?”
“Someone took him from his room while the family was sleeping. I don’t know how much money the kidnapper is asking for, but I’m planning a fundraiser. I’ll sell every book in the library if I must to help Beth get the cash.”
“The kidnapper didn’t ask for money.” Maria frowned.
“Then what?” Ms. Tuttle looked expectant.
“See for yourself.” Maria showed Ms. Tuttle a copy of the ransom note she’d printed out. “It’s a riddle. And a weird one.”
“Let me grab my glasses.” For the next several minutes the librarian studied the paper, scribbled in the margins, made asterisks by certain words, and underlined others. At last she looked up from her desk, glassy-eyed. “Yes, well, as you say, this isn’t obvious. And the deeper question is ‘why?’ Why did they address the letter to you? Maybe it’s just a distraction?”
“Maybe.” Maria looked at the words again. “But what if it isn’t and I do nothing to find Justin? I could never live with myself. The FBI are working on the riddle, of course, but I wanted you to take a look at it as well, without telling anyone, if you understand what I mean?”
“Of course. I’ll keep working on it and I’ll give you a call later. Maria, we’re going to find him. This town will turn over every last piece of red sand if we have to. Justin is coming home.”
This time it was Maria who reached over and embraced Ms. Tuttle. For once the woman was wrong.
Maria was, very much indeed, in need of comfort.
While the FBI secured the scene of the crime, Maria and Pete continued to follow up on any leads that had come in during the night. There wasn’t much, but they were attacking everything as if it might pan out.
With the FBI’s approval, Pete called Mark Lyon at the Kanab newspaper to run a full page ad with Justin’s picture in it. Pete also grilled Mark for news of anything or anyone unusual in town.
As the two men talked, Maria stared at the riddle.
None of it made any sense. Wasn’t she supposed to have the Sight? Why couldn’t it help her out with something useful? She tried calling Jim multiple times to see if he might be able to help, but so far no one knew where the man was.
Maria stared at the words, then the letters, and finally at the numbers. She turned the paper with the riddle written on it upside down.
Nothing.
She mixed the letters up, trying to see if they made new words. She tried to read it backward. Sideways.
Nothing.
Getting down to business, she pulled out her deciphering code book from college. It hadn’t been cracked open for years. She hadn’t had much use for it as a black ops leader in the CIA. If she wanted a code cracked, she got the experts on it.
Maria didn’t know how long she’d been lost in the thought when the station dispatcher quietly knocked on Maria’s office door and told her a call had come in.
“Who is it?” Maria asked.
“It’s about the reservoir, again,” the dispatcher said. “Someone threatening someone else.”
“Seriously?” Maria rolled her eyes and checked out the time on her phone. She had at least two hours before the FBI debriefing that afternoon.
But the reservoir? She had absolutely no desire to go back there. Why couldn’t grownups behave themselves?
Then again, if she went to the reservoir she might find Jim there, and he might be helpful in solving the riddle.
“Okay.” Maria stood up. “Let them know I’m on my way.”
The scene at the reservoir was completely opposite of that from the day before. It was amazing what kind of ruckus accompanied several school busses full of kids. No wonder the demonstrators had picked yesterday to march. It had given them an audience.
Today, however, there were only a few people on site. The developer, Mr. Walden, was there. He was in a different colored suit but otherwise looked the same. His sharp edges and air of money were on display for all to see. Everything about him said, “I’m worth a million dollars.” And he likely was. That or he was in the hole a million. With developers it could go either way.
The two senior officers from the EPA were also present. They had chosen their “field attire” for the excursion. Craig Snyder and Gloria McCoy wore tan pants and green buttoned collar shirts that had the letters “EPA” embroidered over the left breast—like a pledge of their allegiance.
Mrs. Wolfgramme was strikingly absent. She had given up her picket signs to lead the community efforts to find Justin Hill. The very thought of that woman in charge of something to help Justin helped Maria breathe a little easier. If anyone knew how to mobilize a community, it was Mrs. Wolfgramme.
A handful of local activists led by Karen Stone sat on the dirt right in front of a large piece of excavation equipment. The metal bucket on the machine could have crushed all of them with one swipe. But they sat there nonetheless, a proud show of humanity vs. mechanical beast.
Maria marched straight toward Mr. Walden. “What’s going on? I thought we were clear that excavation had to stop until we could get a better site inspection done.”
“I’m trying to work with these people, but I can’t figure i
t out. It seems they don’t want me to fix this problem.” Mr. Walden used a silk handkerchief to wipe a drip of sweat off of his temple.
Maria wondered if silk would ever come clean. She’d never used anything but a disposable tissue.
“You are not hearing us, Mr. Walden,” said Karen Stone. “We don’t want you to do anything until the water has stopped giving birth.”
Maria made a double take at Karen. She must not have heard her correctly. “Until the water stops doing what?”
One of the younger activists sitting on the ground shouted. “Giving birth! You should know, Chief. You’re the one who started it.”
“How is the water giving birth?” Maria called back down. Sometimes living in a small town meant trying to learn a new language.
At this point the EPA officer Craig Snyder jumped into the conversation. “Chief Branson, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
The man continued. “You must not be aware of what has been happening at the reservoir ever since the first skeleton was found yesterday.”
“No. Not a clue.”
Gloria McCoy stepped forward. Yesterday her face had been pinched and unfriendly. Today it appeared she’d had a dose of laughing gas at the dentist. Her smile reached ear to ear. “It’s remarkable. I’ve never seen anything like it. We were hoping you might be able to explain.”
“Explain what?” Maria did not trust a happy state government official.
“How they keep coming so regularly.” Gloria spread her arms apart.
“Mr. Snyder?” Maria looked at him desperately. “What is she talking about?”
“Ever since yesterday afternoon when you … ah … blessed the water and the skeleton showed up, a new skeleton floats to the surface in the same place the first one showed up. It happens every hour. Like clockwork.”
Blessed the water? It was time to set these people straight.
“First of all,” said Maria, “I’m not some kind of priest who blessed anything. And second of all, what is being done with all of the skeletons?”
Mr. Walden cleared his throat. “My workers have carefully gathered all of the … errr … parts and put them in the trailer over there. I wasn’t sure legally if that is what I was supposed to be doing, but I haven’t been able to get ahold of my lawyer today. I swear this just keeps getting worse and worse. What a mess.”
Maria knew where Rod was, but she wasn’t ready to divulge that information yet. “And what does Jim say about this?” Maria asked the two EPA officials.
“Jim is gone. He wasn’t in his hotel room this morning. Unfortunately, that is just the way he works. It’s not uncommon for him to disappear mid-job.” Mr. Snyder pushed a button on his phone. “But I’ll try to call him. Maybe he’ll pick up now.”
Maria’s hope to speak with Jim about the riddle faded. The only thing she wanted to do now was get back to the station and find Justin.
After a minute, Mr. Snyder put his phone down. “Jim’s still not answering. Chief Branson, can you tell us what is going on here?”
Maria shook her head and scanned the water to see if she saw any bones poking up from beneath the surface. It was one thing for there to be more skeletons. Maria was certain they would find many more. But to have the skeletons show up in the same place once every hour? Admittedly, that was weird.
Just like the rest of her life.
“So I understand the water is giving birth, but I don’t understand why the protestors are protesting. Mr. Walden can’t stop the skeletons from coming up.”
“That’s just it,” said Karen Stone, who had left her group of activists and joined the conversation. “Now that the skeletons are coming, we should let them come. However, Mr. Walden wants to drain the part of the reservoir that has been filled.”
“And why do you want to drain the portion of the reservoir that you already filled?” asked Maria to Mr. Walden.
“So I can have the site inspected again. Do you think an inspector is going to swim around the reservoir to inspect the area?”
Maria turned to Karen. “Mr. Walden has a point. And, to be honest, the goal is to disturb as few graves as possible. By taking the water out, Mr. Walden will be doing exactly that. The skeletons will stay put.”
Mr. Snyder from the EPA nodded his head. “The police chief and I are in complete agreement.”
Karen Stone furiously shook her head. “This isn’t a coincidence. You of all people should know that, Maria. These skeletons want to be let free. Stay and watch. One is due any minute.”
Ms. McCoy from the EPA sidled next to Karen. “I can’t help thinking she’s right. I know it’s not protocol, Craig, but I mean, come on. Every hour. The same place. Something bigger than us is going on here.”
Maria had heard enough. These women didn’t know what they wanted. They had completely flipped sides in less than twenty-four hours. “You’re right. Something bigger is going on. A little boy has been kidnapped and I need to get back to the police station to work with the FBI. I’m going to side with Mr. Walden on this one. He is allowed to drain the reservoir but nothing else. The protestors can remain onsite to protest, but only outside the line of the construction zone that Mr. Walden has marked. Mr. Snyder, I will let you and Ms. McCoy fight this out. I have to go.”
Maria was surprised at Mr. Walden’s reaction to her news. He gasped and asked, “A little boy? Kidnapped? How old is he?”
“Eight.”
“I knew something bad would happen.” Mr. Walden mumbled to himself, wiping his face again with the dainty-looking handkerchief. Then, turning to Maria, he asked, “Who is investigating the crime?”
Maria eyed the man carefully as she answered. “The FBI. Are you okay, Mr. Walden?”
“Not really,” he replied, sweat dripping down his face, “but I’ll be fine.”
Turning back to Karen Stone, Maria asked, “Do I have your word that you will not interfere with the draining of the reservoir?”
Karen’s cheeks flushed. “It’s a shame.”
“What is?” Maria asked before realizing she really didn’t want to know the answer.
“It’s a shame that you give more value to one eight-year-old’s life than you do to the hundreds of people who want to be freed from beneath.” Karen pointed in the direction of the reservoir.
Maria didn’t have the time or desire to go along with the dramatics. “Justin’s not dead. All of those people are.”
Karen stopped, turned, and looked at Maria with complete distaste. “At least you think he’s alive.”
Maria caught herself before she lashed out. The woman was horrible. How could she say that? Had she never seen a child suffer before? Had she never caught pollywogs at the creek with kids before? How could someone’s heart be so terrifically unfeeling?
“Actually,” Maria said, “I don’t think he’s alive. I know he is.” As she said it, Maria had the strangest sensation, for she truly did know. Something inside her confirmed to her that Justin was okay.
“Do you want to see the next skeleton show up?” Mr. Snyder asked.
“No.” As Maria walked away she was filled with the truth of the words she had just spoken.
Justin was alive.
For now.
CHAPTER NINE
[Native American] human remains have been unearthed and stored in a big metal box near Kanab. Last spring, the total reached 54. It’s a dramatic collision of the past with the present. People who lived a thousand years ago have been forced from their final resting place by a modern day construction project.
“MODERN-DAY PROJECT DISRUPTS ANCIENT BURIAL SITE IN KANAB” BY JOHN HOLLENHORST, DESERET NEWS, FEB. 7, 2011.
Two questions were driving Maria mad. The first was where was Justin? The second was how did she get messed up with the Sight?
The two women at the reservoir had thought Maria had blessed the water to make the skeletons show up. Nothing could be further from the truth. Basically, Maria had stuck her fingers into the water. That was it. No
thing else. She’d not said any magical words or called up any ancient spirits.
Just a finger in water. What could have been so special about that?
Maria used to be normal. She would go to bed and actually sleep instead of toss and turn and have nightmares repeatedly. Before Tehran, the most Maria knew about ghosts was that Casper was friendly and the movie Ghostbusters was not nearly as funny to watch an adult as it had been to watch as a child.
She was on her way to the police station, where she would hopefully get more answers to her question about Justin. The debriefing was now in less than an hour. As to her question about the Sight, she’d been playing with an idea for a few days now. It was time to act on it.
Maria dialed her mother’s number on her cell phone. Julia Branson picked up on the first ring.
“Maria. Goodness sakes. How you doing, sweetie?”
“Mom, I’m thirty-two. Don’t call me sweetie.”
“As I’ve mentioned before, I’m exactly double your age and therefore I get to call you anything I want. So, what’s up? You don’t call me during the day to chat. You save that for Sunday afternoons.”
Her mom knew her well. “Mom, can we dismiss the small talk and you won’t be offended?”
“I won’t be offended. I’m doing the dishes and will keep scrubbing away if you don’t mind. Book club was at my house this afternoon.”
“Oh, fun.” Maria couldn’t imagine she would ever be the book club type. “Well, I have a weird question.”
“Sweetie, your questions are rarely normal.”
Maria waited for her mother to laugh but she didn’t, which meant one of two things—either she was serious or she had just encountered a particularly dirty dish.
“Okay,” Maria said, “and please do not feel like you can’t tell me the truth. I’m a big girl.”
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