The ship had a gaping wound in her side. The shallow water and thin stretch of sand glittered with gold. A chest had broken open, spilling bars out into the surf. Piles of coins lay in the sand. Lindsay knelt and put her hands in them. Some gold, some silver, some stuck together. She looked inside the hold. It was stacked with barrels and chests. She wanted to walk in. Her better sense, returning to her in the daylight, told her not to. She backed away and picked up a gold bar. It was unbelievably heavy for its size.
She looked up at the sun. Late morning. She had slept a long time. Did anyone miss her? It hit her then what had happened. She hadn't even thought about it until that moment. She touched the back of her head. Someone had hit her and left her under the plastic to die. She felt a stabbing pain in her arm. She looked down at it and fell to her knees.
It's all right, it's all right. It's not that bad, she told herself. A splinter about six inches long was imbedded under the bloodcaked skin of her forearm just below the elbow. She touched it tenderly. It was sore. She tugged gently to pull it out and was rewarded with enough pain to make her cry. I've got to get home. Surely someone is looking for me.
She walked around the ship through the vegetation to the other side. Most of the hull on that side was missing and the ribs were showing. The decks were collapsing. No one is going to believe this, she thought. She still held the gold bar. She held it close and started walking in the direction of the house. Every step hurt, her face throbbed. The saltwater-soggy sneakers hurt her feet. My teeth, the regulator! She stuck her fingers in her mouth, feeling. They were all there, but two of her upper incisors were loose. They would tighten back up. Just as long as they were there. She felt no jagged edges, either. The side of her face felt swollen. I'll bet I look like the wreck of the Hesperus.
She walked despite the pain. If she stopped and rested, she wouldn't be able to get back up. Her side began to throb. Cracked ribs. She stopped walking, dropped the gold bar, and felt her rib cage. Sore, but she didn't think there was a break. Her side was black and blue. She picked up the gold bar and continued up the beach. It was heavy; she should have picked up something else. The thin strip of sand was getting wider. Ahead she heard voices and saw the dock. She was too tired and sore to yell. She walked.
"She was supposed to be on the archaeology barge." It was John.
"She wasn't. I think she stayed to help. I'm not sure." That was Trey.
"We'll, uh, send divers out to the dam, and-" Lewis didn't finish.
"She helped with the screen, I'm sure." That was Steven.
"Well, why the hell wasn't someone counting heads? That's why we had a plan." John again.
Ramirez was standing with them, looking out to sea, as were Bobbie and Harper, and the two new security guards. No one was looking up the beach. She supposed she had better tell them she was alive. She tried to speak and it came out in a squeak. She cleared her throat.
"Guys. Guys."
They hadn't heard. She walked closer to the dock.
"Guys," she shouted.
They all looked at her for a moment as if she were a ghost.
"Lindsay?" said Trey.
My God, she thought. They don't recognize me.
"Yes."
"Lindsay!" John jumped from the dock and ran toward her.
The others followed. He put his arms around her and lifted her off the ground.
"I was afraid, afraid-"
"I'm not," she groaned.
He put her down.
"Lindsay," said Lewis, "you look awful. Your face."
"I feel awful. I've just had the worst night of my life."
"Why did you stay out there?" Lewis insisted. "You've had us worried sick."
"Oh, I don't know, Lewis. I guess I just thought, well, this is a once in a lifetime experience, I think I'll ride out the hurricane in a cofferdam in the middle of the ocean."
"I think we need to get Lindsay to the hospital," said Ramirez.
"One thing," said Lindsay. "Lewis, this is going to make you very happy. Just remember, you owe me big time."
She handed him the gold bar she had been holding to her chest.
"What is this?"
"Just what it looks like. You think you can have it arrested, or whatever?"
"Where did you find it?" asked Trey.
"It was on the ship I rode in on."
"What?" asked Trey.
They all looked at her as if she were crazy. But there was the gold bar. They couldn't argue with that.
"Lindsay," exclaimed Harper, "your arm. We need to get her to the hospital."
John picked her up in his arms.
"It's a splinter from the ship," she said.
"Are you serious? You know where the wreck is?" asked Lewis. "You can find it so we can start excavation?"
"You don't need to. She sort of excavated herself."
"What?"
"It's down the beach a couple of miles. I told you, I rode it ashore. Me and-well, never mind. That's how I got the splinter in my arm. It's part of the deck. You had better get someone out there to guard it. But I'll have to tell you. You will be tested severely. There's treasure spilling out all over the place and there's probably a trail of it from wherever it was to the shore."
"You're not joking?" asked Lewis.
"I don't have that kind of sense of humor. No. I'm not joking. Better get out there before Jones or somebody finds it." Lindsay laid her head on John's shoulder.
"Lindsay," asked Ramirez. "What happened? Just tell me quickly."
"Someone must have hit me on the head and covered me with plastic under the stairway. When I woke up, all the trains had left the station."
"Oh, God," said Bobbie.
"I really don't feel well," Lindsay said.
"You have to save the splinter," said Lindsay. "It's an artifact. Proof, of a sort."
The doctor looked up at John who stood with her as she sat on the examining table in the emergency room.
"She's an archaeologist. They're peculiar."
A nurse shooed John out to the waiting room while the doctor examined Lindsay. They sent her to X-ray before they removed the splinter. It seemed like hours before she found herself tucked safely in bed. Were it not for the mild concussion, she could have left. But she didn't complain. A night without her bed wafting back and forth or worrying about a prowler wasn't so bad.
The mirror brought another horror. She had insisted on showering and washing her hair. When she finished, she looked at herself for the first time. The whole left side of her face was bruised like her side. She did look awful. Both eyes were black. Her arm hurt. She probably shouldn't have gotten it wet, they hadn't bandaged it. Her entire rib cage ached. For that matter, all of her muscles hurt. There was blood in her urine. The doctor told her that her kidneys had taken a hit, but they would heal in a few days. All in all, she was lucky, which John told her before he left to check the dam. Bobbie and Harper came bearing flowers.
"You sure scared everybody," said Bobbie. "John was beside himself."
"Trey was tearing his hair out when it was discovered you were missing. He had forgotten you stayed."
"He was busy and I wasn't assigned to the skeleton crew. I just couldn't leave with the rest."
"Sentimental?" suggested Harper.
"I was worried about John. The dam means so much to him."
"You're an idiot," said Harper.
"Tell me what happened with you guys," Lindsay asked.
"We went inland to a school basement. Not much to it. The others were at another school-that's why no one knew you were missing. They thought you were with us and we thought you were with them. It was this morning before anyone knew you weren't there."
"What happened with the hurricane?"
"Wasn't one. It veered out to sea and headed north where it was downgraded to a tropical storm again. We were lucky. We only got some of the effects of it," said Harper.
"Then the dam should be all right?"
"Would you qui
t worrying about that damn dam? It's probably better off than you are," said Harper. "We were all worried."
"Someone wasn't," Lindsay said.
"I know," said Harper. "That's scary. Can you tell us what happened?"
"I'd like to know that, too." Agent Ramirez walked into her room carrying a basket of flowers. Lindsay told her story, from waking up under the plastic, to passing out somewhere in the woods.
"That was quite an adventure," said Ramirez. "Do you have any idea who could have done it?"
"No, not a clue."
"I've posted a guard outside your door."
Harper patted her shoulder and Bobbie gave her a hug. "Get some sleep," Harper said. "We'll see you tomorrow."
"I slept for hours last night."
"I know this isn't as luxurious as sleeping in a swamp, but make the best of it," said Harper.
"Tell John he doesn't have to come by this evening. I know he's busy with the dam."
They left and Lindsay drifted into a comfortable sleep, dreaming of sea serpents and buried treasure and her aunt Maggie rolling out pie crust and spouting aphorisms. She awoke to the sight of John sitting in a chair beside her bed.
"Good morning," he said.
"Morning? How's the dam?" she asked.
"The dam's fine. I told you she would stand up to the winds. I'm pumping the water out now and a crew is putting the roof back on."
The doctor released Lindsay, with a prescription for antibiotics, telling her to keep quiet and take aspirin or ibuprofen for pain, drink plenty of water, and keep an eye out for dizzy spells, nausea, and blurred vision. John took her to the island, where she would be staying with Harper.
"We all insist," said John. "The rocking barge is likely to be too uncomfortable."
Harper had made a bed up for Lindsay. "I can't take your bed," Lindsay said.
"Yes, you can. I'm finished translating, and don't need the perks. We'll all be happier if you're comfortable."
"Well then, thanks."
"There's a debriefing in an hour or so to catch everyone up. If you feel like it, you might enjoy it. Bobbie's bringing us dinner to have in my room. Trey, John, and Luke are joining us-that is, if you feel like a dinner party."
"As long as all of you don't mind looking at my face."
"If you're going to have adventures, you need scars to show for it. How's your arm?"
"Very sore. But they gave me all kinds of shots."
Lindsay actually got a hug from Lewis as she walked through the door to the lab.
"You got the ship secured?" she asked.
"The governor sent a detachment of National Guard and asked the Coast Guard to put a boat in the water off the island. Since the ship is on national parkland, claim is easier in some respects. The Guard have offloaded most of the treasure they can safely get to. They are guarding the rest while we dismantle the ship. Most of the treasure spilled out into the water, of course. I brought in the divers to start locating it and the missing timbers."
"How's Jones taking it?"
"Haven't heard from her, or seen her ship, but I think she is still trying to make a claim based on the bell and a few pieces of wood. I don't know if she knows that it's washed up onshore, but I'll bet she does. She may try to say that she found it before the hurricane hit."
"The ship had to be in close to the shore."
"It must have. We were looking farther out all that time. You know, a sunken ship named the Alatoona washed ashore after a storm like this thirty or forty years ago on the coast of North Carolina. It came to an ignoble end. The surf eventually pounded it to pieces, campers built fires in what remained of its hull, and now it's gone. This one will have a happier future. It will be displayed next to the Estrella." Lewis grinned from ear to ear.
Everyone greeted Lindsay warmly. Nothing was mentioned about an attack, but she was sure everyone had heard by now. She scanned their faces, looking for someone who was disappointed or uncomfortable. But they all seemed happy to see her.
Ramirez was there in the doorway. She wondered why. She looked questioningly at him. "Everything all right?" she asked.
"Just keeping an eye out," he said.
"On what?"
"Things." He smiled and patted her shoulder. "I like it here. Usually I have to travel all over the place looking for the bad guys and witnesses. This is what's nice about an island. Everyone is in the same place. I don't have to travel so much."
Lindsay sat down on the couch between Bobbie and John.
"As you know," Lewis addressed the group, "Lindsay, during her ocean adventure, located what we believe to be the Espada de Nuestra Senora de la Limpia Concepcion. We have been looking for her all along, but for obvious reasons had to keep it a secret. We didn't know, however, that the Concepcion was connected in such an interesting way to the Estrella, as has been revealed to us by the diary." Lewis gave Harper a nod. "The diary has been a special and unusual addition to the excavation. Not only do we have a ship and part of the crew, but an account of the voyage. We think we may actually have been able to establish the identity of some of the skeletal remains after being lost over 440 years under the sea."
Lindsay hoped he wasn't going to make a long speech. She ached from her toes to the top of her head.
"So," said Korey, "we now know this guy Sancho killed Lopez, and Lopez is our guy with the dented head, and Sancho is our guy in chains."
"He said he didn't do it," Juliana protested.
"They all say that," Sarah replied.
"Well, sometimes they are telling the truth," commented Jeff, not without some emotion.
Neither Lewis nor Trey seemed to mind the debriefing degenerating into a discussion about the diary; in fact, they seemed to welcome it. Someone had tacked up copies of the pictures Lindsay had drawn of the skeletal remains-four of them. She looked at each in turn. The last one, the one she had thought was Valerian, startled her. That face was the one in the dream, or hallucination, that her mind gave to Bellisaro.
"Who else could have killed him?" Steven asked. "Let's not make a mystery where there isn't one. It's pretty straightforward."
"Sancho is innocent," said Lindsay, and everyone turned to her.
"You all right, Doc?" asked Nate. "You look like you've been shot at and missed, and shit at and hit."
When the laughter died, Lindsay smiled at him.
"Thanks for that image of my appearance. I assure you, I feel much worse than I look. Sancho, whatever misdeeds he committed on the ship, did not kill Lopez."
Chapter 32
LEWIS WAS THE first to break the surprised silence. "Okay, who did kill Lopez?"
"Yeah," said Nate, sitting with his feet propped on a chair. "You're going to be hard-pressed to convince us that someone else did it. It happened, after all, about 440 years ago. Are you that good?"
"We'll see. Go ahead, Lindsay. You have our interest." Lewis leaned back on the edge of the table, half sitting, half standing.
"Yes," said Carolyn, "you've got some of the principal characters and evidence sitting over there on the table. Go for it."
"Sancho had blood on him and he had the cross," said Steven, reminding Lindsay of the heavy evidence against him.
"Which, apparently," said Lewis, "is the same cross we have. It has to be handed over to our FBI friend here, but I think we can prove it belongs with the Estrella." He held it up. It was stunning.
"Possession of the cross doesn't mean he took it." Lindsay saw Jeff nodding his head in agreement. She had convinced him already. She half expected to hear an "amen" from his corner. "Nor does it mean he killed for it. Blood on his clothes only connects him with the crime scene. Not with the murder." Lindsay noticed that Ramirez eyed her closely, wanting to disagree, but saying nothing.
"But can you prove to us that he didn't do it?" asked Nate.
"I can prove that the evidence doesn't show that he did. Are you asking me to prove a negative?"
"I'd never do that," Nate said, grinning.
&nb
sp; "I'm making an assumption that the diary is an accurate account," she said. A big assumption, but she knew they would agree. They all wanted it to be accurate. They were all planning papers around it, and so far it corresponded with what they had found.
Lindsay limped across the room and retrieved Lopez's skull and the mallet. She was having fun and after the previous evening, it was welcome.
"Lopez was killed with an instrument like this. Because of the angle and placement, the killer was probably left-handed." She held the skull up in her right hand, facing the audience. In her left hand she held the head of the mallet and touched it to the skull, illustrating how the first blow occurred.
"What was Sancho?" asked Steven.
Lindsay smiled. "Left-handed."
"Seems to me evidence is still stacking up against him," Steven said.
"Sancho's left hand had been nailed to the mast. The ship's doctor wanted to cut it off," announced Bobbie. "He couldn't have used it."
"That's right," agreed Lindsay.
She handed the mallet and skull back to Carolyn, who returned them to the tanks. John handed Lindsay a bandanna to dry the brine from her hands.
"But that doesn't mean he couldn't have used his right hand and hit him backhandedly" said Steven. "If you can't use one hand, you are forced to use another. And it was Lopez's fault he was nailed to the mast. That gave Sancho a strong motive."
"True, that alone is not proof, but I'm not finished."
"He had the victim's blood smeared on him," Nate added, "the blood he got from contact with the wall where it was splattered."
"Yes, and what does the diary say about that?" Lindsay asked. "Does anyone have a copy of the diary handy?" Trey handed her a notebook. She quickly flipped through the pages, and read the section:
Father Hernando and Captain Acosta arrived with the boatswain. As the good father prayed over him, I shook my head at the little halos of his splattered blood. Poor Lopez, for all his desires and aspirations, this was all that was left of him.
"Blood drops and spatters are thin at the edges and thick in the middle. They dry around the edges first, the middle last. The diarist describes the splatters as halos. When Sancho smeared it, the edges had dried, but not the middle. Sancho smeared the blood after it had time to partially dry. That was well after the murder."
LC 04 - Skeleton Crew Page 33