Heart racing, I call Beau over. “Look!”
The blood drains from his face. He takes off toward the rocks, running so quickly that it’s all we can do to keep up. He skids to a stop in front of the two stone monoliths split nearly down the center and stares at them. The craggy crevice teems with the dead roots from the mesquite between it. A sense of holiness, of awe, overcomes me, and I can’t talk. This is it. We actually found it.
Russ squeezes my hand, and we watch as Beau takes his hat off then bows his head, crossing himself. Then he walks around the base of the rocks, his fingers trailing against the stone’s pale surface. Behind the rock, he shouts, and we hurry after him. Behind the rock, up against the mountain proper, there’s a cave with a smaller boulder half-covering it. Beau and Russ lean against it, pushing it the rest of the way. Annette and I pull out the dead brush in front of the hole, widening it so that a small person can fit inside.
“What the hell?” Russ asks.
I couldn’t agree more.
Without a backward glance, Beau crawls into the hole and disappears.
“Um, is that such a good idea?” Russ asks. “That doesn’t look very big. What if the mountain caves in on him?”
“It better not,” I mutter, tossing Russ my pack.
“What are you doing?” He looks from my pack to me.
I flash him a smile. “Somebody’s got to pull him out if he gets stuck.”
Russ rolls his eyes. “Just don’t get hurt. One whiny girl is about all I can take.”
I flash him the middle finger before crouching at the mouth of the cave. It’s dark inside, and I don’t see Beau, so I don’t think he actually got stuck. He must still be down there for a reason.
The tunnel at the entrance to the cave isn’t very long, only about four feet or so. After that, it opens up, and I use the flashlight on my phone to help avoid creepy crawlies that I’m sure are around here somewhere. The cave at the end of the tunnel is about ten by ten feet, not too big but large enough for a person to stand up halfway and turn around. Beau sits against the right side of the cave, and I almost bump into him.
“Sorry,” I mumble, and crawl to a sitting position next to him. “Is everything okay?”
Beau doesn’t respond. Instead, he stares at a metal box in his hands, his eyes haggard. I scan the rest of the room with my flashlight. The cave is strangely empty, except for what looks like a pile of blankets crumpled up at the far side of the cave. Leaving Beau to his box, I crawl closer to the other side. There has to be something there. Nobody would go to this much trouble for a bunch of dirty rags. The dust puffs up in the air, and I sneeze, my eyes watering. Stupid allergies.
Once the dust settles, I shine my light on the pile of rags once more and immediately spot something different, something long and thin and pale. A bone. My breath catches in my throat, and I raise my flashlight to the top of the mound. There, glinting faintly under what now looks like a tattered lace hat, is the half-round globe of a skull, thin wisps of hair still hanging from what’s left of its taut, mummified skin.
“Beau.” I wave at him, but he doesn’t respond.
It’s as if the weight of everything is suddenly too much for him to bear, and he can’t do it anymore. It’s not about whatever’s in the box, or what the legend really said, or the body we just found. It’s about his brother and finishing what he started. So I do the only thing I can do. I crawl next to Beau, wrap my arms around him, and let him fall apart.
After several minutes, Beau looks up to meet my gaze. “Thank you.”
I squeeze his shoulders. “No problem.” Then I glance over at the body. “Who do you think that is?”
Beau stares at it for a second. “My great-great-grandma.” He takes a deep breath, as if steadying himself, and clutches the box to his chest. “Are you ready to go?”
I nod. “Let’s get out of here.” But before I go, I turn to the body and bow my head for a second. I’m not very religious, but this situation seems to call for it. Then I crawl after Beau and out into the light.
Once we get outside, we all sit in a circle, and Beau dusts off the box. It’s about a foot square and six inches tall, not big enough for any real treasure. But I don’t think any of us are even thinking about treasure anymore. It’s beyond that.
Hands shaking, Beau flips the latch and opens it. Dust puffs up around the lid, and he wipes it away. Inside, there are a bunch of metal coins, but I’m too far away to read them.
Beau picks one up and wipes it off. A wide smile breaks across his face, cutting through all of the sadness. Then he picks up another, and another. A deep laugh bubbles from his throat, louder and louder until he can’t contain it any longer and he doubles over.
Russ and I share a look. “Is everything all right?” I ask.
Beau tosses me one of the coins and Russ hands me a bottle of water. I rinse the coin off so it’s easier to read. Embossed around the edge of the coin is “Good for 1/2 hour with Brown Eyes at the Bird Cage.”
“What is this?”
Eyes streaming with tears, Beau pulls out another coin, and then another. The second one says, “Good for a Bath, Beans, and a Screw.” The next one reads, “Good for All Night.”
“Are these...?” I’ve never seen anything like this before.
“Brothel coins and some poker chips,” Beau says. “That’s what the treasure was. Remember how I told you that my grandpa was quite the ladies’ man before he married my grandma? He must have rushed to hide all the evidence of his past when he heard my grandma was on her way.”
Russ squints. “So the treasure, all along—”
“Was nothing more than a bunch of coins from his single days.” Beau picks up a handful of coins and lets them run through his fingers. “And he knew my great-great-grandma wouldn’t stand for it, so he must have hidden them but was afraid to throw them away.”
Russ scratches his head. “So there was never any treasure at all?”
“Nope,” Beau says, smiling. “Just a bunch of tokens to get you time with a prostitute. I bet my Dad’s going to love this.”
Chapter 26
“So what’s next?” Beau asks as we sit on the porch swing overlooking the Arizona sunset. We swing back and forth, the chain creaking rhythmically. Beau rests an arm over my shoulders. I relax against him, Bear snoring softly in my lap. Rocket lays next to the swing, her head on her paws, watching for trouble. Or a rabbit. I’m sure she’d love that, too.
“I don’t know. Russ says he already has a lead that sounds interesting.” Silence stretches between us. I wish I could freeze this moment and make it last forever. “I told him that I was done with tunnels for a while, and he said he’d see what he can do.”
Beau’s chest vibrates with his chuckle. “I don’t know if I’d trust him or not.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure it’ll work out.”
We rock together for a few minutes before Beau clears his throat. “You know, you could stay here for a few more days. We have the space, and I’d like to show you around the ranch and Tombstone properly, you know, without ghosts and treasure hunters.”
“You mean, like an actual vacation?”
He tips my head up so he can look into my eyes. I fall into their depths, and when his lips touch mine, I’m a goner. Firm and persistent, he teases my mouth open, cupping my cheeks so that every breath I take was once his, and his breath was once mine. But then the door to the cottage slams open.
“Ewww, gross,” Jess says. “Get a room.”
I jump back, face flaming, while Beau takes off his hat and scrubs his hand through his hair. “So what do you say?” he asks.
“I—”
“Hey, Mer, I found it!” Russ hurries through the door, the laptop held precariously in one hand. “The perfect case.”
“What is it?”
“You have to promise to hear me out, first.” He plops down next to me. “All right?”
“Now you’re scaring me,” I reply.
“Well,
you said you didn’t want anything with dark, creepy tunnels, right?”
“Right.”
“And the Bigfoot boycott is still on too, correct?”
“Yup.”
“Then check this out.” He turns the laptop toward me, a triumphant grin on his face.
Splashed across the screen is a newspaper article on the front page, by the looks of it. The title reads, “Killer Clowns Stalk North Carolina Town.”
“So,” he says, “what do you think?”
“I—” I look up at Beau and see amusement mixed with regret and longing in his eyes. We can stay a couple extra days. It wouldn’t kills us, and we deserve the break.
“I think you should go,” he says. “There will be other times, other cases, and other vacations, but”—he turns the laptop to read it again—“there will only be one case of the killer clowns.”
I groan, pushing aside my feelings so I can focus on the new potential case. I’ll deal with them later. “Okay, fine. But I already think I regret this.”
“You won’t.” Russ jumps up, nearly toppling the porch swing. “I promise.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that before.”
Can’t wait to grab the fourth book, Cirque du Fear? Click HERE to get your copy. P.S. I hope you’re not too afraid of clowns!
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for reading the first three books in my Brady Paranormal Investigations series! I couldn’t have done it without my awesome editor, Kate, my beta readers, my writer friends online, my oh-so-patient ARC team, and my awesome readers. You are all amazing!
About the Author
Harper Crowley loves reading and writing. Big surprise, eh? She lives in Michigan, where it’s too cold for nine months of the year and loves traveling to exotic locales. When she’s not writing about kooky characters in crazy situations, she’s teaching middle and high school students and dreaming up her next adventure. You can find her on Facebook at /harpercrowleyauthor and her website www.harpercrowley.com.
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