Buried Secrets

by Margaret Daley

  While the thug hovered over Zach, Maggie rushed forward with her “weapon” in hand. Then suddenly Zach pushed against the man, and their positions switched yet again. Frustrated, she put the vase down, afraid she would do more harm than good.

  But she had to do something before Zach got hurt. The grunts and moans coming from the men propelled her toward her cell, which had slid across the tile floor. She started to punch in 9-1-1 when she realized her battery was dead. Her frustration mounted with each second of impotency.

  She pivoted toward the two men. Standing now, arms outstretched, they both slowly moved in a wide circle in the foyer. A cut on Zach’s lip bled, along with the gash from the accident, since the bandage had ripped off during the fight. Her attacker’s mouth was split and blood soaked his ski mask.

  “Who sent you?” Zach asked, his voice menacingly quiet in the silence of the house.

  The man grinned, but a coldness remained in his blue eyes. “I’m no fool. If I told you, I’m a dead man.”

  “Who sent you?” Zach asked again.

  Maggie hadn’t thought it possible that Zach’s voice could get any more deadly, but it did. She took in his alert, predatory gleam, his rage packed in ice, and shuddered.

  The thug managed to sidestep until his booted foot touched his switchblade. He swooped down and picked the knife up, tossing it to his other hand. “Maybe I should be the one to ask the questions. Where’s the diary?”

  “You’ll get it over my dead body,” Maggie said.

  “Then so be it.”

  Her attacker lunged forward. Maggie screamed, momentarily startling him. With his attention diverted to her, he missed Zach by several inches. Zach dodged the man and came up behind him, locking his fingers around the assailant’s wrist.

  Zach’s mouth slashed into a scowl, his eyes a blaze of steel fury. “Drop it or I’ll break your wrist.”

  Behind his mask, the man chortled. He brought his elbow back into Zach’s stomach, and a swish of air left Zach’s lungs. Maggie started edging toward the vase again. Maybe this time she could do something.

  Sucking in deeply, Zach backed away from the man. The goon spun around, and they faced off. The man taunted Zach with his knife, waving it in front of him. Maggie’s fingers closed around the vase as their assailant flipped the switchblade and sent it sailing toward Zach. He dived to the side. The knife landed with a clang on the tile floor a foot from Maggie in the entrance to the living room. The vase crashed to the floor.

  She looked down at the blade among the shards of porcelain, then back up at her attacker. Seeing she was closest to the only weapon, the man whirled around and raced for the door as Maggie lunged toward the blade.

  Zach staggered to his feet and followed the thug outside. His footsteps pounding the ground matched the pounding of his heart as he ran after the man. Zach wanted to get his hands around the intruder’s neck. Maggie’s assailant was ten yards ahead. Zach increased his speed, determined to make him pay for every second of fear he had given Maggie. Eight yards. Six.

  With his chest burning, each breath a painful exertion, Zach closed the gap between himself and the huge man. For a few seconds the man disappeared around the corner. Vigilant, not relenting, Zach hurried after him. As he came around the hedge, Zach saw the man dive for the open passenger door of a black SUV.

  Zach put every ounce of strength into the last few yards, leaping for the closing door. It slammed shut the same instant the vehicle shrieked away from the curb. Zach landed on his knees with a wrenching jolt as the SUV sped away. Pain bolted up his thighs and he fell forward, planting his hands in the thick, cool grass in front of him.

  Dragging in shallow breaths, he tried to read the license tag, but all he could see was one number, a four. The rest were covered up with caked-on mud.

  Slowly he stood. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides. Father, forgive me. For a moment I wanted to kill. Never before had he felt such powerless rage at another person than when he saw the assailant’s hands on Maggie.

  Maggie!

  He had to get back to her. Ignoring the pain in his knees, he jogged to her house, all the while scanning the terrain in case the people in the black SUV decided to return. The stakes were getting higher and higher with each day that passed. And he and Maggie were caught in the middle.

  When he entered her house, his rage, like a cut that refused to heal, festered anew at the sight of the destruction. Before facing her, he paused in the entryway and gathered his calm about him, bending over to inhale gulps of air.

  When he walked into the living room, Maggie glanced toward him. The glare of the lamp accentuated the paleness of her features and brought out the red marks of the man’s hands on her neck and face. The haunting crystalline green of her eyes spoke of her terror more than any words could. Her auburn hair, a tangled mess about her, attracted his gaze before his eyes finally settled on her swollen lips.

  His chest constricted. He fought the rise of fury and concentrated instead on Maggie’s needs. He crossed the room and paused in front of her.

  She lifted her gaze to his. Her hand trembled as she ran it through her hair. For a long moment silence reigned, then the urge to hold her, to make sure she was all right, took over. He gathered her to him and cushioned her cheek against him.

  Safe. For the time being. Maggie slid her eyes closed and relished that fleeting feeling. She heard Zach’s heartbeat beneath her ear, and the sound further comforted her, its rhythmic pace as soothing as if she were listening to rushing water over rocks.

  While he stroked the length of her back, her mind refused to think beyond the consoling sensations of his hand. He was a man who was very capable of protecting her. Her thoughts went blank. The tremors slowly subsided inside her, as though he brushed away her fear with each caress.

  “Maggie, we need to get out of here. They may return.”

  His whispered words tickled her ear, bringing her back to the moment, to the reality of what had happened in her home, her sanctuary. “They?” she managed to ask around the lump in her throat.

  He pulled back. “The man jumped into a getaway car. Someone else was driving.”

  There are at least two, maybe more, after me. That distressing realization shattered what was left of her composure. She wanted to move, to do what he said, but she felt rooted to the floor.

  “Maggie? We’ve got to leave now.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the entrance into the living room.

  She stared at the strong fingers wrapped around hers, as if she were watching the scene from above, and the woman moving in slow motion wasn’t her. Sluggishly she raised her head and looked into his eyes. His worried expression produced a tightly aching dryness in her throat. She swallowed hard several times. She shuddered, a trickle of feeling welling upward like the beginning of a stream.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  In the foyer he paused in front of her. She fought the warmth spreading through her as his hands slid up her arms. She didn’t want to remember the panic and terror of moments before, the sense that her life wasn’t hers anymore—as in the cave years ago. She’d worked hard all her life never to feel that way again.

  Zach cupped her face and smiled down at her, his thumbs stirring over her cheeks in slow circles. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll find someplace safe for us tonight and come up with a plan tomorrow.”

  “I’ve never…had someone attack…” Words failed her. She wanted to talk about what had occurred, but she couldn’t put it into a coherent sentence. So much had happened in the past day. Too much. Too fast.

  His hands rested on her shoulders. The savage twist to his mouth attested to his emotions as he kneaded her taut muscles. “No one will attack you if I can do anything to prevent it. That’s a promise. We’ll find out who’s behind this and stop them.”

  Maggie closed her eyes to the comforting feel of his hands on her, stroking away her agitation with his touch. She wanted t
o lean into him, but she had already depended on him for so much. In the past she had always stood on her own two feet, never depending on another person—not even Gramps, her mentor. The Southwest, a land that was often harsh and barren, had long ago taught her she had to rely on herself if she was to survive its realities.

  Opening her eyes, she drew on her inner strength. “I’m fine.” When he threw her a questioning look, she added, “Really, I am, Zach.”

  “Okay. Pack a few things. I don’t think you should stay here until we’ve figured this out.”

  Against Zach’s protests, Maggie tended to his cuts, her movements quick and efficient. She gave him some aspirin and took some herself. Tomorrow her body would protest the assailant’s harsh treatment of her.

  Then, with Zach’s help, Maggie packed an overnight bag. She was aware he thought the man might return with reinforcements, and she only took what was necessary. Five minutes later, she sat in Ray’s black truck while Zach headed away from her house. She looked back at her home, which had been her haven. She wasn’t sure she would ever feel safe there again, and hated that her attacker had taken her sanctuary away.

  As Zach drove out of Santa Fe, Maggie could think of nothing to say, her thoughts still a jumbled mess. She’d always prided herself on being logical and orderly, both necessary traits in her profession, but right now she couldn’t put any kind of logical order to her thoughts, and gave up trying. That would come later.

  Except for an occasional light dotting the landscape, pitch-black was all Maggie saw around her when Zach pulled off the highway and bumped along a dirt road that led to a house. Am I making a mistake putting my trust in him? He’d said they were going somewhere safe, to stay with a cousin who lived on a reservation. But what if this was all an elaborate setup to get the diary?

  For miles she hadn’t seen many signs of life. If Gramps knew who she was with—She quaked thinking how angry her grandfather would have been.

  Everything she’d done in her life had been for Gramps. He’d taken her in after her mother’s death, only a year after her father had died in the cave-in. Gramps had held her when she had cried for her parents at night. He’d cheered her on when she had decided to become a doctor. He’d made sacrifices so she could achieve her goal. She owed him, and this was definitely not the way to repay her grandfather. Guilt gnawed at her composure, which was pieced together with a fragile thread.

  “Your cousin doesn’t mind us dropping in?” Maggie asked, not liking where her thoughts were taking her.

  “Evelyn’s home is always open to family. I have a lot of cousins in this area. If someone is checking out my relatives, it will take them a while. Besides, one of my cousins is a tribal police officer. Nothing much happens without him knowing about it.”

  In the dark she sensed the brush of his glance.

  “Both Evelyn and Hawke are very knowledgeable about the terrain in this part of the country. That might prove useful to us when looking for the codices.”

  “I see.” His relatives were Willow-in-the-Wind’s family, the woman her grandfather had been engaged to marry before Red Collier had run off with her.

  Zach parked behind the house so the black truck couldn’t be seen from the road, then climbed from the cab while she grabbed her overnight bag and exited, too. Several more lights in the house switched on, as though someone was moving toward the back door. When it opened, an older woman, medium height with long, straight, coal-black hair, stood in the entrance. Her face lit with a smile as she saw Zach coming toward her.

  “Twice in one month. What do I owe this visit to?” The woman stepped out onto the small stoop.

  Zach enveloped her in a hug. “We need a safe place to stay for a few days.”

  The woman pulled back and studied him. “Trouble?”

  Maggie approached the pair while Zach turned toward her and said, “Evelyn Lonechief, this is Maggie Somers.” He scanned the darkness beyond the pool of light created by the house. “And I’ll explain inside why we’re here.”

  “Come in.” His cousin opened the screen door and went into the kitchen.

  Maggie mounted the two steps, and again the feeling she was consorting with the enemy nudged to the foreground. Too dazed by the attack at her house, she hadn’t questioned Zach about where they were going until they were halfway here.

  “I’ll put some coffee on.” Evelyn shuffled toward the counter.

  Just inside the doorway Maggie surveyed the kitchen, a small refrigerator and a stove the only modern conveniences. A dark brown rectangular table with six chairs around it dominated the middle of the room. Old, cream-colored linoleum covered the floor. The room oozed warmth, as though it was the heart of the house.

  As the scent of brewing coffee permeated the air, Evelyn lowered herself into one of the chairs and waited for Maggie and Zach to take a seat. “Hawke should be home soon.”

  Zach slid a look toward Maggie. “That’s my cousin who’s a tribal police officer, and Evelyn’s son.”

  “So what kind of trouble are you in this time?”

  Surprised by the question, Maggie stared at Zach. She knew about the problem in the Amazon last year, but what else?

  Evelyn chuckled. “Zach has a habit of finding trouble. You should get him to tell you about that time in Peru. Or remember when you went to the Philippines a few years back? I still marvel about how you got out of that situation alive.”

  No wonder Maggie had gotten the impression he could take care of himself, she thought. He’s had to, whereas the extent of my adventures has been the last two days.

  Evelyn’s dark features brightened. “He’s a regular Indiana Jones. Made Red proud. If Zach wasn’t looking for some new plant or cure, he was delving into the local history. Sometimes people didn’t want him to.”

  Zach shot to his feet. “I’ll get us all some coffee, then we’ll talk about what’s going on.”

  While he was at the counter, Evelyn leaned toward Maggie. “He doesn’t like me talking about his adventures, but I sure do enjoy hearing about them. It’s my excitement. Nothing much happens around here.”

  “Glad to hear that.” Maggie took the mug Zach gave her and sipped the hot brew. “We have someone after us.”

  Zach eased down next to her, cradling his coffee between his hands. “Maggie is Jake Somers’s granddaughter.”

  A twinkle sparkled in Evelyn’s brown eyes. “I figured as much. She has the same dark red hair and the same mouth. Why your grandfather was called Red is beyond me. It should have been Jake’s name.”

  “You knew my grandfather?”

  “I knew who he was, but I never met him. I’ve seen some old photos of him, heard stories about him. I’m sorry about his death.”

  Her words of condolence brought back all the pain Maggie had experienced over the past week. “Zach thinks it wasn’t an accident, and I have to agree with him.”

  “Like Red?”

  Zach nodded.

  “He shared his theory with you?” Maggie glanced from Zach to his cousin.

  “With my son, after Red’s house was trashed and the map was stolen,” Evelyn said.

  “And Hawke thinks something might be going on.” Zach lifted his mug to his lips, his gaze snagging Maggie’s over the rim.

  Maggie gave him an exaggerated look. “I believe someone is after us. It’s kinda hard not to acknowledge it when I was attacked in my own home.”

  Evelyn sat forward. “You were attacked? Why?”

  “The man wanted the diary.” Her attacker’s gravelly voice, and his demands, resounded in Maggie’s mind. If Zach hadn’t come in, she could have been killed.

  “So, Zach, your hunch is right. This is about the legend of the Aztec codices, after all these years. Red and Aunt Willow gave up on the search. They decided the codices were either destroyed or the legend was just that, a legend.”

  “Well, someone doesn’t think so.” Zach placed his mug on the table.

  “Either way, Zach and I are in danger beca
use of the diary and the map. If the codices are out there, we need to find them.”

  Zach surged to his feet. “They belong in a museum where they can be studied, not in some private collector’s possession. The prospects of a band of Aztecs preserving their history from destruction for future generations…” His voice faded, but the passion in his expression didn’t.

  “You sound just like your grandfather. Why didn’t you become an archaeologist like him?” Evelyn finished her coffee.

  “It’s hard to live up to a legend. I wanted to make my own mark in the scientific community.”

  Maggie watched Zach pace the kitchen, waves of energy flowing from him. Red Collier had had the life—and woman—Gramps had wanted. Although she felt her grandfather had loved her grandmother in his own way, Maggie had always known something had been missing in their relationship. Red and Jake’s discovery almost sixty years ago had started an avalanche of events. Would it end in Maggie’s death?

  “Did they get the diary, too?” Evelyn walked to the coffeepot and poured some more coffee into her mug.

  Zach stopped in the middle of the room. “No. So we have a chance.”

  Evelyn lounged back against the counter with her drink nestled in her palms. “Which means they will be searching for you and Maggie. If they have already killed twice for the diary and map, then they won’t stop until they get both of them.”

  They? Who are they? Maggie wanted to scream in frustration. She’d had a good life, and now she was on the run, forced to work with her family’s enemy in order to stay alive.

  SIX

  “Are you sure about this?” Maggie scanned the parking lot at the Albuquerque City College, looking for a black SUV with gun-toting thugs in it.

  “We’ll get the copy of the map, interview the people at the rehabilitation center, go by the bank in Santa Fe and be back at Evelyn’s before anyone knows we are here.” Zach patted the hood of the green Jeep. “Whoever is after us won’t be looking for this rental car. Besides, we’re probably going to need a four-wheel drive. I doubt very seriously the codices are hidden in the middle of civilization.”