Circles of wet perspiration inched out from beneath the armpits of Mr. Walden’s wrinkled dress shirt. While that sight was not exactly unusual this time of year, it was unusual for Mr. Walden, who had always seemed concerned and invested in his appearance.
Mr. Walden had curtly invited them in and continued to pack as if they weren’t even there. If he was hiding the fact he was leaving, he wasn’t doing it very well. His intentions were clear. And Rod wasn’t having much luck talking to the man either.
‘I’m telling you Rod, I can’t stand it anymore. It feels like I can’t breathe here. Don’t you feel that way? You told me you did.”
“Well, yes. Sometimes.” Rod glanced at Maria to see if she was looking or listening, which of course she was. “But then I remember that I have responsibilities and things I need to take care of before I just get up and leave. We’ve got a kidnapping case going on here. This is serious stuff. Why are you trying to leave now?”
“The kidnapping has nothing to do with me. I’ve drained the reservoir. I followed the protocol given by the government. Once details get figured out with the construction project I’ll come back. As it stands, we’re going to have to completely move the location of the reservoir to protect the burial ground.” Mr. Walden shivered. “But for now, my hands are tied. There’s no reason for me to be here.”
“Did you know that one of the main suspects wanted for the kidnapping was hiding out near the reservoir?” Maria asked.
“No.” John Walden continued haphazardly shoving clothing into his suitcase. “I had absolutely no idea. Just another reason for me to get out of here.”
Maria carefully watched the man’s non-verbal cues as he continued to argue with Rod about whether or not it was a good time to leave Kanab. The man wasn’t guilty; he was scared. He exhibited high anxiety levels. And he wasn’t being forthright about why he was leaving. He was holding something back, but Maria was sure it wasn’t guilt over a kidnapping.
“Where are you headed?” Rod asked him. “You’d better at least leave the police your contact information. If not, you’ll have the FBI after you.”
Being in Mr. Walden’s presence seemed to aggravate Rod more and more. His speech had quickened since they’d arrived and now he was pacing back and forth. He had been calmer during the kitchen rolling pin fight.
Maria hung back to give the two men more space. It was hard to tell which of them was more irritated. Since the minute they had arrived, Rod’s anxiety levels had also shot up. Both he and Mr. Walden seemed amped up on some kind of stimulant. There was something very odd about the way both of them were behaving. Almost crazed.
Rod brought his hands up to his arms and began rubbing his skin. “Dang, John. Why do you keep it so cold in here?”
Maria had been thinking the exact opposite. The place was stifling hot and there was no air conditioning running. Who in their right mind didn’t have their AC going at two o’clock in the afternoon in the middle of a desert?
Mr. Walden exhaled quickly. “I think my thermostat is broken. I can’t seem to get my furnace to work. It’s been cold for days.”
Delusional. There was no better word to describe what Maria was watching.
“Here, let me give it a try.” Rod walked over to where the thermostat control hung on the wall. He began pushing buttons rapidly.
“Are you sure you’re both cold?” Maria asked. Maybe the men were sick?
“Freezing,” answered Mr. Walden. Rod didn’t look up to answer. He seemed obsessed with breaking the thermostat.
That settled it. Rod had been practically normal just minutes before. He couldn’t be sick. Maybe there was some kind of carbon dioxide leak going on. Those could make people act and do crazy things. But why wasn’t it affecting her?
“Why can’t I make this work?” Rod slapped the wall by the thermostat unit.
“You can mess around with that all you want, but I’m getting out. I’ve had it.” As Mr. Walden slammed the luggage top down, Maria caught sight of the first thing that made sense in this room. It was the black shadow of a man, lurking in the far corner. It was the same shadow Maria had first seen in the Kanab jail. Later, it had invaded her sleeping hours. She had thought perhaps it was the ghost of Ryan, her fallen comrade in Tehran. But why would he be here?
Ignored by Rod and Mr. Walden, Maria slowly approached the shadow, holding out her open-palmed hand—a non-threatening gesture to signal she meant no harm.
Ten feet. Eight. Five.
Maria was close enough to the shadow to almost touch it. As she grew closer, the shadow’s coloring changed from black to grey and then to a sepia tone. While the face still was blurry, Maria knew the shadow wasn’t Ryan. She was relieved and disappointed at the same time. Ryan had been such a great friend—perhaps even a little more. She would have liked to have said goodbye.
The figure she saw was not her contemporary. While he was still in his youth, he was from a time long, long ago. Another era. A different culture.
Bare-chested on top, the man wore a skirt made from plant leaves, feathers, and some kind of fur—rabbit probably. On his feet were sandals with straps made from what looked like human hair.
Another step closer and the man’s head came into focus. Smack dab in the middle of his forehead was a gaping bloodied hole four inches long. The spectral image didn’t make a noise, but he reached out his hand, mimicking the open palmed position of Maria’s.
It was an invitation to take it. Maria delayed only a half second before grasping the shadow man’s fingers with her own. A war exploded into her mind.
Literally.
Men and women, dressed in the same kind of attire as the shadow man, screamed. Spears plunged deep into torsos. Rocks and sticks—anything blunt—were being thrown relentlessly into the group of natives who were ill-prepared for the attack.
Maria’s shadow man held the hand of a beautiful young woman. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of onyx shimmering in the light. Fear draped her face. They were running away from the slaughter. Away from death.
Maria felt his misery. His love for the woman. His need to keep her safe.
And his failure at doing so.
The woman at his side screamed. The shadow man turned. A stone spear head poked out of her chest. Blood oozed down her front. The shadow man dropped to his knees.
Despair.
Grief.
And then pain.
A tomahawk sliced through the air and sank deeply into the front of shadow man’s skull.
The couple crashed together to the red dirt, surrounded by other bodies. A few still twitched, but most were already dead. All would be soon.
The slaughter was complete.
The shadow man’s last thought was of the woman whose hand he still held. They would be together in death.
Forever side-by-side.
Maria’s eyes flew open. She knew. She knew who this man was and what he wanted. She knew what was driving the need for Mr. Walden and Rod to leave Kanab. It all made sense.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Bilyeu went missing, Fenn orchestrated a personal search for the hiker. He has yet to say publicly whether he would call off the treasure hunt after the recent death of Wallace.
“NEW MEXICO POLICE URGE PURSUIT FOR FORREST FENN’S TREASURE TO STOP AFTER LATEST DEATH” BY ARIANA BROCKINGTON, NBC NEWS, JUNE 24, 2017.
Rod set the shovel down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t get how I can be so cold but sweating so much at the same time.”
Maria wiped at her own perspiration and said, “We need to hurry. Keep shoveling. The hole is about large enough.”
The three of them were alone in the middle of the drained reservoir—the burial place of the shadow man and his eternal love. Scorching heat covered them as if the air were hot lava. As they worked, Maria constantly looked at her watch—making sure she could still catch her flight to Jarbidge and appease Justin’s kidnapper.
Mr. Walden huffe
d as he pried a rock from the ground using a crowbar. “Why are we doing this again?”
“Trust me, both you and Rod are going to feel much better when this is done. We just need to make sure the hole is deep enough that neither of these two skeletons ever go anywhere. This site is going to be protected by the government.”
The three of them had been at the task for several hours. They were reburying the skeleton with the gaping hole in its skull she had come across the night she and the FBI had chased Karl Fossum on the sandy roads behind the reservoir. Little had she known buried next to it were the bones of his lover and they were at risk of being torn apart by the construction of the reservoir.
The reservoir was the shadow man’s enemy—as well as Mr. Walden and Rod because of their association with the project. They had come. Talked. Brought large machines that dug holes and made noise. Then the water had come, with its sinuous fingers that nearly pulled the shadow man from his resting place, threatening to separate him from the woman at his side with whom he had planned to spend eternity.
The shadow man had entered the world of the undead to make Mr. Walden and Rod quit constructing the reservoir. He would go back to his resting place once he was securely reburied.
Maria was sure of it.
As the last shovel of dirt was placed on the newly dug double grave, Maria breathed out a sigh of relief. They had finished in time for her to still catch the plane to Jarbidge.
“I think I might pass out,” said Rod, his t-shirt drenched. “I haven’t been this hot in weeks.”
Both men stood up straight. Reburying the brittle skeletons had been hard work, but they had done it with reverence and respect. The result was visible. So much so Maria chided herself for not having noticed it before.
A gray film was literally pulling itself off of the men’s countenance. They had been living under the shadow man’s influence for weeks.
“I know it’s hot,” said Maria, who must have drank several liters of water just herself, “but other than that, how do you two feel? Different?”
Mr. Walden tilted his neck back. “I feel like I can breathe again. I feel … free.”
Rod stooped down and felt the red clay dirt with his fingers. He let out a sigh. “I love Kanab. I don’t know what I was thinking. I could never leave.” He smiled and looked up, catching Maria’s eye.
A look of awareness passed over him and his jovial mood faded. “Maria … Maria, I …”
The alarm on her phone beeped. Maria looked down and saw the time. “Guys, I’d love to stay and chat but I have to go. I’ve got my own car. Get yourselves home.” She took off running.
“Maria,” shouted Rod.
She didn’t stop.
“Where are you going?’ he yelled.
Maria couldn’t answer that. The kidnapper had told her to tell no one or Justin would be in danger. She lifted her arm up and waved goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It appears that a second Colorado man has lost his life looking for Forrest Fenn’s treasure in New Mexico near the Rio Grande … 52-year-old Paris Wallace of Grand Junction last had contact with his family June 13 and was reported missing the next day. Wallace’s wife told officers that he went to New Mexico to look for Fenn’s treasure.
“TREASURE HUNT MAY HAVE CLAIMED 2ND LIFE, STATE POLICE CHIEF CALLS IT ‘STUPID,’” BY EDMUNDO CARRILLO, ALBUQUERQUE JOURNAL, JUNE 19, 2017.
Maria’s flight on the chartered plane was nothing but smooth. However, she could not say that of the SUV car ride. Jarbidge was so remote that no paved roads led into the Nevada town. Whether coming from the north or the south, you had to travel over dirt roads through a seemingly forgotten land.
Tonight, whether by design for entertainment or because of poor steering skills, Maria’s driver managed to hit every rock, bump, rut, and gulley. It left her with a solid hour to do nothing but think—sleep was not a possibility. Besides, she’d had a good rest on the plane. Even though she was getting into Jarbidge late at night, she planned to hit the ground running. If the kidnapper truly was following her, she wanted it to be obvious that she was doing everything she could to find the treasure.
The internet had been vague as to what exactly was in Jarbidge. It was a former mining settlement that, instead of dying out like many of the others, had become a hangout for hardcore (or wealthy) hunters looking for a good time. A couple of bed and breakfasts advertised their services online, and she saw a few raving reviews of the local bar. But with the most recent population information showing fewer than two hundred people living there, Maria couldn’t imagine what people did for work.
Was there a library in town she might stop at for information? Even if there were, it was highly doubtful there would be a section labeled, “Veil Treasure Here.”
Even worse, as Ms. Tuttle had explained, Jarbidge was surrounded on one side by a massive national forest and on the other side by the Jarbidge wilderness, which consisted of more than a hundred thousand acres of rivers, lakes, mountains, and valleys. Maria’s visit would not be a gentle stroll around town. Of course she would be smart about it, but by this time tomorrow she was sure she would be thick in trees and brush. One woman looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. She would comb all one hundred thousand acres if she had to looking for Justin.
It was wishful thinking, but the only way this undertaking might actually work was if her Sight kicked in and led her to where she needed to go. Of course, it had never really seemed to work that way in the past. But, if she were being honest, Maria had no idea how the Sight did work. Clearly the kidnapper thought she had skills. Maybe they knew something she didn’t?
A jog in the road threw Maria to one side of the car, and she bumped her shoulder against the door of the SUV. She peered at the terrain lit by the headlights and a wave of guilt rushed through her.
Maria had broken rule number one of any CIA operation, and she’d gone against good, old-fashioned common sense. She had told no one where she was going. The kidnapper had said to solve the riddle alone, so that is what she was doing. However, she had taken backup measures and mailed a letter to the FBI detective Agent Carter, which he would receive sometime tomorrow. If she never came home, her parents might be able to track down her body. A proper burial would mean a lot to her mom.
As for how Maria felt—if she didn’t make it back to Kanab, so be it. She had been cursed with living on borrowed time the last two years of her life. She should be dead like her comrades in Tehran. How many times had she wondered why her life had been saved? Perhaps this was the reason. Perhaps the forces of the universe knew her life would be needed down the road to save an eight-year-old boy.
The thought gave Maria peace—more than she’d felt in a long time. It was what every person who suffered from survivor guilt wanted to know.
Why me?
It was, in a distorted way, an attractive offer. Her life for Justin’s. It would restore balance to what had transpired in Tehran. Her CIA team could forgive her then.
Even Ryan.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maria heard Dr. Robert’s voice.
Wow, that pity party came on hard and fast. What about those people who love you? Why do they have to suffer? Quit kidding yourself. Your death will not lessen the pain in the world. It will only contribute to it.
But who loved her? Her parents?
Yes, that was a given.
Her siblings?
Possibly.
Beth?
That was questionable.
After this kidnapping, who knew if there would be anything but contempt from Beth for officers of the law. So far, the law had failed her.
And what about Rod?
Who knew.
Part of Maria told herself she didn’t want to think about him, their relationship, and the mess it had become. But another part—the more forthright of the two—knew that she very much needed to face what was going on between them.
After the shadow man had been reburied and his
powerful influence on the two men involved with the reservoir’s construction had dissipated, Rod’s countenance had reflected recognition, then horror, and finally regret. That “look” had opened a part of Maria’s heart she’d sworn to lock up for good the night on “K Hill” when Rod had told her it was over.
The place inside her where hope resided.
But Maria didn’t want to have hope. She couldn’t have hope.
Then again, perhaps she was reading too much into the situation. While it was true that for the last while Rod had been under the influence of an angry Indian warrior, one who was mad at him for disturbing his remains and potentially separating he and his lover, maybe that wasn’t the only reason her and Rod’s relationship had been rocky. Arizona had taken a toll on it. Dakota’s presence had stirred difficult emotions within Rod.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Whether or not Rod wanted her back, she could not be with him. Or anyone else. Her existence served up heartache and pain on a silver platter to anyone she was close to. There was nothing about her presence that provided safety, peace, or love—the emotions people wanted.
There must be a reason Maria lived a relatively solitary life. Some people exuded warm fuzzies. Rainbows and unicorns. Maria? She dished out misery and death. On the day she was born it was like a black hole appeared in the sky with her name on it. Did that have something to do with her having the Sight?
Maria gripped the car seat as the SUV bounced her a foot into the air.
“That was a big one,” the driver mumbled as he forged down the road.
“How much longer?” Maria asked.
The driver grunted. “Fifteen minutes.”
Great. Fifteen minutes for Maria to figure out what she should do in Jarbidge.
Hello? She called to the Sight, wherever it was. Any idea what I should do?
There was no response, of course. While a part of Maria still wondered if the Sight even existed, she couldn’t deny some of the things she’d seen. But it had all been so sporadic. She’d never controlled the Sight. It controlled her.
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