Jim reached out and touched her hand. Immediately the terror that had burst inside her drained away. How had he done that? Maria stared at the place on her skin where his fingers had brushed hers.
“I, for one, am glad we won’t be visited by any other Aztec warriors,” said Ryker as he prodded Maria forward, deeper into the cave. “I had my fill of them yesterday. Let’s get going. I can hardly wait to show off what we’ve found.”
*
The area in the cave where the mayor’s body had been found was, in actuality, only the starting point to a large, intricate maze system. Behind the cave-in of rocks Ryker and his team had cleared away, was a skinny passage that Maria had to slide through. It gave her the feeling of maneuvering a cramped revolving door before being able to enter a distinguished building.
After the bottle neck, the cave opened up into a comfortable-sized tunnel Maria easily walked down as Ryker began his lecture on what she was seeing. The further they walked from the opening, the more it smelled like an extremely old library with antique books combined with the stench of an extremely over-cooked hot dog in the microwave.
Ryker led the way. “This cave system appears to have originally been made by an earthquake. However, the chisel marks on some of the walls show it was later “remodeled” by men … and women,” he added, grinning at Maria. He knew her well. “It would have taken many hands and many years to create what you’re seeing. The sheer size is astounding. It may even have a couple of levels. I’m just not sure at this point.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the tunnel turned sharply and Maria gasped. In front of her was a huge chamber, half the size of a school gymnasium.
“Wow.” Maria’s mouth hung open in amazement.
Ryker laughed. “I know what you mean. It’s so big you don’t even know what to say.” Gleefully, he took her hand and led her to the middle of the room where there was a stone statue ten feet high. It had a missing arm and foot, and its face had either been smashed from falling rocks or it had been chiseled off. Regardless, it was a person. And while the statue’s creator was no Michael Angelo, the scope of the art was impressive.
“It’s made out of limestone.” Ryker got right up next to the statue, scrutinizing it. “A common stone around these parts. Usually it’s pretty durable, but this cave has seen a few tremors. The statue has been beaten up a bit. Even so, he’s remarkable. ”
“He is.” It was as if Maria had been transported to some ancient world featured in the National Geographic magazines in the dentist’s waiting room. The walls of the chamber were lined with pictographs, as if someone had been wallpapering the place.
“Wow.” She needed to stop saying that.
“You’ll notice there are offshoot tunnels from this main room all around.” With his flashlight, Ryker pointed to at least twenty-five open tunnels that branched off the chamber like the spokes of a wheel.
“There are a lot of them,” said Maria in awe.
“Yes. We’ve only entered three. Two were manmade tunnels, large enough to walk standing up straight. However, one was a natural passageway that funneled down into a spot we had to squeeze through. We didn’t get to the end of any of them. To be honest, we’re worried about stability and carbon dioxide levels. Our equipment was showing some signs of low oxygen. Problem is, once we start exploring these old, closed-up caves, we stir up all the CO2 that has sunk to the floor. Spelunkers have died from carbon dioxide poisoning.”
For the first time, Maria realized Ryker’s excavation crew wasn’t inside and they hadn’t been outside either. “But where is everybody?”
“My crew, you mean?” asked Ryker.
“Yes. I thought they’d be in here.”
“No, Jim and I are the only ones who went inside. After the team found the opening behind the cave-in, I sent them home. I don’t like too many people around for the investigation part. It’s so hard for people to keep a secret. They tell someone and then that person tells someone and then you have half of the state sneaking around trying to see what’s going on as well as the artifact poachers looking to make quick money. No, I prefer to keep things quiet until everything is documented and the right people see what they need to see. I guess it’s my academic upbringing.”
“I see.” Maria felt miniscule in the large chamber. Like a tiny fish in the immense ocean.
“Another reason I don’t bring them all in here is safety. In fact, the three of us are probably doing things against protocol as it is. I can’t have all fifteen of my workers coming in here and getting squished by another cave-in. I don’t have the equipment or money to shore up this room adequately at the moment, so I’m treading lightly. Where we know there has been one cave-in already, statistically speaking it’s more prone to having another. I don’t want anyone to die on my watch.”
As if sleepwalking, Maria found herself roaming the chamber. Each step she made echoed around her in the semi-darkness. Below her feet was at least a foot of fallen rock that had at some point dislodged from the ceiling. “I could spend all day looking at these glyphs, but I’d better get to the body. Where’s Freddie?”
“He was in one of the tunnels we went down. It’s not far. Follow me.” Ryker shone his flashlight into one of the larger looking entranceways.
The entire time they had been in the big chamber, Jim had been quiet. Not unusual for him. It was easy to forget he was there sometimes. But as they left the large chamber, he discretely took something from his pocket and waved it in the air. He said a few words Maria couldn’t understand and then put the object away. She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but Ryker called for her to hurry.
“Coming.” She’d save her questions for Jim until they were done exploring the cave. For now she hoped whatever Jim had done to keep the ghosts away would keep working when she saw the body.
As she got closer to where Ryker’s headlamp glowed in the dark, Maria spied a human-size lump on the ground. Wanting to get it over with as fast as possible, she pointed the beam from her own flashlight downward to where the figure was.
The image of a shriveled, wrinkly man with skin so brown it looked blackened greeted her eyes.
In a hushed, almost reverent tone, Ryker said, “There he is.”
Maria took a deep breath and readied her hand to play Brahms, but the dead body did nothing out of the ordinary. No waving. No moaning. No blinking, winking, or drooling.
Nothing.
She exhaled and glanced at Jim. Whatever he’d done to her, she wanted it in pill form. That or she’d just have to bring him with her everywhere she went.
The body was dressed in a once-white, now reddish-brown shirt, the sleeves of which had been rolled up over his elbows. The pants were a thick woolen weave, scratchy and coarse. The leather work boots had holes in the bottoms—most likely they were like that when the man was still alive.
Being careful not to touch anything, Maria bent down to examine the body closer. The person had died on his side. The head and lower jaw were covered in matted hair. And like his skin, the hairs had taken on a sickly brownish hue. The amount of preservation was boggling. The eyelashes and eyebrows were still present. And, glancing down the body, Maria saw the man’s fingernails were still visible.
“How did this happen?” she asked.
“He dried up instead of rotting away,” answered Ryker. “Natural mummification happens from accidental exposure to chemicals, extreme cold, very low humidity, or lack of air. I think the latter two are what played a part in this fellow’s embalming.”
On the body’s upper left cheek was a mound of protruding skin the size of a marble. At first Maria thought it must have been some kind of overgrown wart, but then she remembered one of the details she’d read in the sworn affidavit Sue Tuttle had shown her in the library. When Freddie returned to Kanab for the second time, he had a very large scar on his cheek from a gun injury.
A yellowed paper was on the ground underneath one of the mummified hands. It was old and brittle, bu
t the writing was still readable. It was a crude map, hand drawn, that showed various landmarks like mountains, lakes, and marshes. In bold letters across the bottom of the page, by the legend, was the name Freddie Crystal written in shaky cursive.
It had to be him.
Maria stood and moved to Freddie’s backside.
“The weapon he was killed with is still stuck in the body,” said Ryker.
Jim grunted.
Sure enough, a knife had been thrust in between Freddie’s shoulder blades where it had stayed for ninety years. There was little or no blood at the site of the entry. The red fluid must have dried up and flaked off over the decades.
“Stabbed in the back,” said Maria. “A classic way for a treasure hunter to go, don’t you think?”
Ryker agreed. Jim had removed himself from the two of them moments earlier and was mumbling something about “ishla” and “katuk.” Or was he saying “babuk?” Maria looked questioningly at Ryker, who shrugged his shoulders.
“I never ask,” he whispered.
Maria went back to investigating the body. She’d brought her camera with her and wanted to take a few photos. Ryker joined her near the floor. Her head spun for a moment, and she wondered if it was the carbon dioxide. The sensor Ryker had clipped to his jacket blinked yellow, which meant CO2 levels were higher than normal but not fatal. Ryker had told her a steady red line meant get out or die.
Ryker moved to Freddie’s backside where the knife was.
“You know,” he said, “even though it seems pretty obvious he died of the knife wound, we still might be able to get an autopsy of him. It’s happened before.”
Maria took another picture.
“I know of a case where the body of a murdered civil rights activist was found to be almost perfectly preserved over thirty years after his death,” Ryker said. “The state reopened the case and permitted evidence from an autopsy to be used in court. Quite a curious incident it was.”
“An autopsy, huh?” said Maria, sticking her lower lip out in thought. She wasn’t sure it would do much to help along her case. “What I’d like to know is who owned this knife. Whoever it was, they’ve been missing it for a long time. And the handle is so unique. Some kind of carved and polished stone. Did they have stuff like this in the 1920s?”
“It’s not from the twenties,” said Jim. “It’s at least a thousand years old. It belonged to a people even older than the Aztecs.”
“Really?” Maria looked closer at the details on its handle. “How did it end up in Freddie’s back?”
“Someone who wanted Montezuma’s treasure must have put it there.” Jim folded his arms in front of him, appearing as if he was about to pray.
“Oh you think, Sherlock?” Maria grinned at him. Jim didn’t return the gesture.
“But where did that person—” Maria made quotations marks with her fingers. “—get such an old knife?”
Jim’s tone changed to have an airy, let’s-go-back-in-time-together quality. “Before living in Mexico, the Aztecs lived in Aztlan, a place north of Mexico. Some believe Aztlan was in Utah.”
“Why Utah?” asked Maria.
“The Aztecs and Ute Indians have the same mother language named after both of their civilizations—Uto-Aztecan.”
Maria’s mind churned to read between the lines. Jim wasn’t big into detailed explanations. “So you’re saying a large tribe of Indians lived here a thousand years ago. Then, at some point, a group of them left and migrated to Mexico and became the Aztecs. The Indians who remained in Utah became the Utes.”
“Yes,” said Jim, “and possibly the Hopi and Navajo too.”
“Well,” Ryker adjusted the headlamp on his forehead, “you’ll have some people disagree with your theories, but I do know there is a story told among the Hopi that their ancestors once lived in an underground world near the Grand Canyon. It was a place called ‘Sipapuni.’ After seeing this cave, I can believe it. You could fit a whole town down here.”
Maria stood up, dusting off her knees. “Okay, let’s say the Utes and Aztecs do come from the same people who lived in Aztlan. That doesn’t answer how Freddie, in 1922, ended up with a thousand-year-old knife stuck in his back. Where did the knife come from?”
“From an Aztec warrior who helped to carry Montezuma’s treasure here. He must have inherited the knife from someone, who also had inherited it from someone, back until the days of Aztlan. Or perhaps it was part of the treasure itself,” Jim answered. “Many believe the reason the Aztecs brought the treasure to Utah was because this area was the location of their beloved Aztlan. They were returning their riches to their ancient homeland.”
“So you think the treasure was in this cave?” Maria glanced around the tunnel. Nothing shiny was in this section.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Jim said.
A scenario played in Maria’s mind. She imagined Freddie bringing the men who had stayed by his side, even after the cave in Johnson Canyon hadn’t panned out, to this cave—the cave the Aztec ghost had shown him. Freddie showed his friends the booty. One of them, or maybe all were in on it, confiscated a knife from among the relics and then, as they were leaving, stabbed Freddie as the prospector lead them out of the treasure cave.
People weren’t much different today than they’d been ninety years ago. Greed had been around an awfully long time.
*
An hour later, outside of the cave, the trio ate “linner” together—that ill-timed meal between lunch and dinner. While eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, they talked about everything the cave could mean from a historical perspective, how it might relate to the mayor’s murder, and how exactly they were going to get the right people there to document the find properly.
“Jim and I will stay overnight here,” Ryker explained, “and then first thing tomorrow morning we’ll leave to see if we can get a few big archaeology names out here. Maria, can you stay here and guard the cave tomorrow? I don’t want to have a bunch of people guarding it or we’ll attract attention.”
Maria hated to disappoint her mentor, but she did have a murder case to work on. “I wish I could help but I can’t. I have to bring someone into the station for questioning first thing in the morning.”
“Is there anyone else we could trust with such a big secret?” asked Ryker.
Maria could tell it was painful to him to think about one more person knowing about the cave.
“Rod Thorton,” answered Maria. “We can trust Rod. I’m sure of it.”
[The owner] decided on a plan to drain Three Lakes. To his surprise, the pond happens to be the only known habitat of the Kanab Amber Snail. The property was fenced off by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.
—Southern Utah News, June 27, 1990.
Chapter 28
THE MOON SHONE BRIGHTLY in the night sky, illuminating the lighter colored rocks and vegetation. Small, white cactus flowers glowed like diamonds. But the red dirt looked black, making the trail difficult for Maria to see. She was grateful she’d worn the spelunking light on her head.
“You really don’t need to hike back with me,” said Maria to Jim, who had insisted on accompanying her to where she’d parked her car. “It’s such a long way.”
“Yes, I do.” Jim answered.
Maria laughed. “You make it sound like my mother called and gave you the assignment.”
“No, it wasn’t your mother.”
That was an odd comment. “Someone called you?” Maria about stepped on top of a prickly-pear cactus. She needed to be more observant or she’d get home with a foot-full of needles.
“Acalan said I should go,” Jim explained. “Now that Yaotl knows of you, he might bother you again.”
Stunned, Maria stopped hiking for a second. “When did you see Acalan?” Everything she believed about reality had been turned upside down by the events of the last week. Sometimes it was too much to take it in.
“At the cave. He’s one of the good ones,” Jim answered.
“Yes, but unlike Acalan, he is very angry about what was done to him.”
“Was he killed to protect the treasure buried at the lake?”
“Yes.”
Great. So now a ticked off Aztec warrior had joined the ranks of the ghosts who haunted her. It sure would be nice if she could get rid of a few of them instead of collecting more all of the time.
Yet that wasn’t quite true, Maria told herself. Her mangled ghosts were hallucinations, part of her PTSD. Of that she was certain. But Yaotl and Acalan were different. They were … real. At least, as real as ghosts could be. They looked different, felt different, and acted differently. Jim had obviously seen Acalan, too. How else could he have known his name?
This blunt realization covered Maria’s body with a film of unease. Could life get any stranger? And while Acalan didn’t bother her, Yaotl obviously needed to move on—wasn’t that what the television Ghost Whisperer called it when spirits finally left the earth?
“Why don’t they drain Three Lakes and find the treasure that way? Maybe Yaotl would leave if there was nothing for him to guard,” said Maria.
Jim grunted. “There is an endangered snail that lives in Three Lakes. It is the only place in North America where it is found. It prevents anyone from draining the lake. For each snail that dies, your government charges a fine of $50,000.”
“Shut up,” said Maria. “You’re lying.” Though it wasn’t like Jim to joke around.
“I do not lie, and the snails are not there by chance.”
The impact of his statement sank deep. “So the Aztecs put the snails there to what … guard the treasure?”
Jim shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
All the talk about ghosts was disconcerting to Maria. While things had been getting better since her meltdown in the cave with Mayor Hayward, something Dr. Roberts said all the time haunted her almost more than her ghosts did.
Expect a relapse. Recovery isn’t a straight path. Progress is when you move more or less in the right direction over a period of time.
Robbed of Soul: Legends of Treasure Book 1 Page 21