“From whom?”
“The impostor.” He crabbed.
“It wasn’t the gods who stole her back, though,” Lauren sighed, holding her charm in her hand, learning the feel of it by touch.
“Oh? And who was it?” He asked, puzzling over their whole conversation.
“You did,” she said.
“I did?” Rowan lifted his brow. “How did I do that?”
“You were there on the solstice,” she said, leaning her head back against him, her hand back on his chest.
Rowan sat up, lifting her effortlessly so he could look at her. “Are you telling me, the woman I found in the standing circles on the solstice was the Jaguar Queen? Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”
“I’m not crazy, Rowan.” Lauren looked mortally wounded by his accusation. “I know what I saw.”
“Seriously,” he said, finding it hard to believe she’d seen what he’d seen, and knew things... things he’d only heard in tales of lore. He had chalked his perception of the events up to the concussion from hitting his head on the stone. Now he wondered how they could both share in the delusion. “I’ve known you to come up with some pretty crazy stuff, especially since the whole Bigfoot fiasco. But all this is hard, even for me, to swallow.”
Lauren stared at him blankly. Her expression was one of utter disbelief. She turned away and stood. She walked out on him without another word, slamming the bedroom door behind her. He heard it click and realized she’d locked it.
“Lauren?” Rowan immediately realized his error and followed her. He jiggled the handle and put his shoulder into it with a thud. “Honey. I’m sorry. Please just... let’s talk about this?” He could hear her crying. “Lauren?”
There was no answer.
* * *
Rowan decided it was better left alone, at least for the moment. Clearly, he’d hurt her feelings. Fortunately she wasn’t one to hold onto things like that for long. She was tired, and uncomfortable. The whole situation had them both out of sorts. He left her to rest.
Making a pot of coffee, he sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop and went to work. He watched the video from the first days of their expedition. Hesitating, he went looking for the video from the night of the solstice. He had to thumb through the hundreds of files until he found the one from his body cam.
They’d recently converted to a new type of camera system. The new ones were similar to the ones police officers wore, except the studio had gone all out to get multifunctional cameras. The new ones could film not only night vision, but infrared, as well as regular day-time film. That night, Rowan had set his up for night vision. The screen glowed green against his skin as he watched the film for the first time. His jaw dropped as the scene unfolded. He paused the film, rewinding it. Holding the headphones to his ears, he listened again. There it was! He could hear the throb of the drums in the distance. He could hear his name being called. The cameras captured a strange glow coming from behind him. When he turned, it was so bright it washed out everything on the night vision camera. A dark form erupted from the light, and the camera jostled as he was sent tumbling headfirst into the stone. Then, the camera went dead.
“Holy Mother of God...”
“Now do you believe me?” Lauren stood in the open doorway but turned and returned to bed. Her eyes were still red.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he said, standing. He followed her into the bedroom and pulled her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in. “I don’t know how you did it, but I knew I heard you call my name.”
“I’m not sure I can explain it either. I just need you to trust... whatever this is, this gift, this magic I have... I never asked for it, never wanted it. I can’t control it. But it’s a part of me now. I have to use it.”
Rowan held her and felt his own heart racing. “You’re right. I trust you.”
Chapter 17
Rowan arrived at the office early Monday morning after the holiday. He set to work, re-arranging the conference room. Jean-René arrived just in time to help him move the conference table to one end, and a sofa from the executive office to the other. Jean-René was puzzled by the boss’ strange behavior but said nothing. When Bahati arrived with Lauren in tow, the purpose became evident. If he couldn’t keep her in bed at home, he’d at least put her on the sofa at the office. At least here, he could keep an eye on her.
The coffee table served as their conference table as everyone gathered around with their laptops and other equipment. Lauren had the printer going within minutes of getting her iPad up and running. Bahati served as gopher, bringing her everything she printed.
“Okay.” Rowan called the team to order. “I’m quite sure Lauren’s doctor isn’t going to like this. It’s a compromise that was necessary to keep her resting and get her help to figure out what the hell happened in Mexico.”
“I’m going to be bossy, needy and whiny, so get used to it,” Lauren said. “I’ve only got a few more weeks of this before Rowan Jr. gets here, so let’s get to work.”
“Rowan Jr.?” Rowan’s brow arched as he looked at her, puzzled.
“Or Lauren Jr.,” she said, realizing they hadn’t even talked about names, at least not seriously. His suggestion had been to name their child Indiana Jones Pierce, regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl. She’d already put the kibosh on that. “Whatever.”
“Let’s just get to work,” Rowan said. “Jean-René, you coordinated with the University. How did you get the name of this Professor DeLaFuentes?”
“I talked to the Dean of the Archaeology Department, Dr. Pedro Alvarado,” Jean-René said. “I found him from a series of blog posts he’d published on the Maya Apocalypse. I’d hoped he would come and meet our team. He said he was just too busy. He had his own research teams to lead. I thought he was going to brush me off all together, but then he said he’d have one of his professors meet us. He said DeLaFuentes was the best man for the job.”
“I did a background check on Dr. DeLaFuentes and confirmed what I had learned when I called the University the other day,” Lauren said. “Enrique DeLaFuentes was a graduate of the University of Bogotá in Colombia. He got his masters at Stanford, and his PhD from the University of Cairo.”
“My dream college.” Rowan sighed wistfully. Lauren had applied for their PhD program long ago. She hadn’t gotten in. She’d ended up getting her PhD in California.
“Rub it in, Mister.” She continued. “The Professor was supposed to retire at the end of the semester in May.” Lauren handed Rowan a printout of a picture. “This is the real Dr. DeLaFuentes.”
It was a much older gentleman than the one Rowan and the team had met. This man was rotund, with a head full of hair that was clearly dyed pitch black. It stood out on his round head like a chia pet. He had a bushy black mustache and wore a pinstripe suit that must have been twenty years old. He looked more like a drug lord than an archaeologist.
“Yeah, that’s not Dr. Rick.” Jean-René studied the picture over Rowan’s shoulder.
Lauren continued. “Stephanie Wentworth was sixteen when she came with her father on a business trip to Mexico. They stopped to meet with a petroleum geologist at the University of Mexico. William was interested in the oil reserves off the coast of Venezuela. His company was working on a deal to start drilling. It was supposed to be a working vacation for the father and his daughter. They had planned to go to Playa Del Carmen and catch the ferry to Cozumel upon conclusion of his business at the University. Stephanie, however, met some college kids at a party. They offered to take her sight-seeing the following day while her father worked. When William returned from his meetings, Stephanie was gone. There was a ransom note on the bed in the hotel.”
Lauren handed Bahati the picture of William Wentworth. He had been a robust man, tall and well-formed, even for a man in his early 50s. He had a mane of sandy blond hair and piercing green eyes. Laugh-lines cut through his tanned skin. His teeth were perfectly straight and bone white
.
“Bet he was popular with the ladies,” Alejandro said as the picture came to him.
“It’s the dimples,” Jean-René said. “Girls love the dimples.”
Lauren glanced up at Rowan, who was grinning so hard his dimples were unmistakable. She blushed behind her bangs and returned her attention to her iPad. “He contacted the authorities. But against their advice, he paid the ransom.”
“How was the drop made?” Rowan asked. He glanced up at Jean-René. He didn’t know how much it had cost them to get him out of that jail cell in Mexico, but it was probably a lot less than the ransom William Wentworth had paid for his daughter.
“A backpack with unmarked bills was left in a trash dumpster, as directed. Police made an arrest, but it turned out to be a vagrant looking for food. While the police were otherwise occupied, the bag disappeared.”
“Cops in Mexico.” Rowan snickered nervously. His eyes darted at Jean-René. “They’re so stupid.”
“It’s the oldest trick in the book.” Alejandro pointed out. He couldn’t even look at Rowan. He stifled a peal of laughter.
“Not too stupid.” Lauren continued, oblivious to the joke. “They had the foresight to put a tracking beacon in the lining of the backpack,” she said. “The kidnappers were already in the air by the time the authorities picked it up. The flight plan indicated the plane was going to Tulum. Authorities were waiting for it when it came into land, but the plane was in trouble long before it turned for approach. A fire started in one of the engines. The pilot declared a mayday over the jungle.”
Lauren handed the picture to Rowan. “That’s Stephanie Wentworth.”
Rowan held the picture. His whole countenance changed as he gazed on a familiar face. “Oh, my God...” It wasn’t the same photo Lauren had sent early in her investigation.
Jean-René snatched the photo out of his hand. He and Alejandro inspected it. “Tabernaque! That’s her!” The teenager was bright-eyed, and beautiful. Her hair was auburn, and her eyes, green, like her father’s.
“You’re sure that’s her?” Bahati asked. Lauren didn’t need confirmation. She could tell by the look on Rowan’s face. He’d seen her before. Lauren had too.
“She is older now, but yes. That’s the same woman. I’m certain of it.”
“So, what happened to the plane?” Alejandro asked.
“The pilot made an emergency landing, and he did a decent job, but then the landing gear failed, and the wing broke off. The remaining fuel ignited. The plane burst into flames. The pilot was killed. The kidnappers were able to escape the wreckage, only to be picked up by the authorities and arrested at the edge of the airfield.”
Lauren had pictures of each of the kidnappers that she passed around. “Emilio Juarez, Javier Sanchez and Santiago Mateo. The authorities determined their motive was just what you’d expect. They saw a rich girl and knew they could get daddy’s money.”
“But what happened to Stephanie?” Alejandro asked.
“We don’t know for sure. But I have a theory,” Lauren said. “I just don’t have an explanation.” Rowan looked at her, puzzled. “Whether by choice or by force, Stephanie Wentworth was able to parachute out of that plane somewhere near Chichén Itzá. She might have had a rough landing in the canopy, knowing how thick the jungle is.”
“Seems fair enough,” Rowan said.
“Here’s where it’s going to get weird. I really need you guys to keep an open mind about this,” Lauren said. She paused long enough for everyone to nod at her, indicating they were with her. “Somehow, she made it to the standing circle of stones, which some say is a portal. It’s a place where the veil of time is thin.”
“A portal?” Bahati asked.
“A tear in time and space,” she said. “Stephanie Wentworth fell through that rip, and the Maya saw her as a fallen goddess. Sky God Woman.” She held up the glyph she had translated.
“With hair like that, I see why they called her a fire goddess,” Alejandro quipped.
Jean-René’s face contorted with his skepticism. Of all the people to question her theory, she’d least expected it from him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Lauren was the one who hit her head on the altar.”
“Hear her out,” Rowan spoke up for her. “Tell them the rest of the story, Lauren.”
She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “On the night of the solstice, while Rowan was doing his investigation, Stephanie Wentworth escaped the bonds of time and returned to the modern world.”
“How did she do that?” Alejandro asked, almost demanded.
“She was summoned,” Lauren said.
“By whom?”
“Rowan,” she said. “Stolen from the Jaguar King. Just in time too. They were about to sacrifice her.”
“And how do you know this, Lauren?” Bahati asked.
“I was there,” she said.
Bahati shook her head vigorously. “You were raging with fever on the night of the solstice.” She protested. “I sat with you at the hospital that whole night.”
“I don’t know how it all works, but, maybe in my fever, I was able to escape the bonds of time too,” she said. “I remember being there with Stephanie as they prepared her for the altar. She was terrified. I called to Rowan, seeing him through the tear. Somehow I was able to help him summon her from her fate...”
Everyone sat staring at Lauren in disbelief, she was certain they must be wondering if the boss had utterly lost her mind. Rowan finally turned to the group. “Look, I know it seems bizarre, but... you’ve got to see the footage from my body cam.” Rowan had his laptop hooked up to the big screen television on the wall. “Someone dim the lights, would you?”
Jean-René got up and switched the lights, sitting back down while Rowan pulled up the video. He hit play. He didn’t say a word as the video clip played. It all happened pretty fast. It left the team sitting with their jaws agape. Rowan hit reboot, and played it again, turning up the audio. “Again.” Bahati insisted, after the second viewing.
After the third run through, Rowan turned off the video and they sat in the dim light looking at one another. Jean-René looked at Lauren, blankly.
“Holy crap, Prometheus! Look at you go!” Alejandro made an obscure reference to Greek mythology, holding up his hand up to Rowan for a high-five that went unanswered. He lowered his hand, dejectedly. No one got his joke about Prometheus stealing fire... or in this case, Rowan stealing the fire goddess.
“Boss, I’m sorry I doubted you,” Jean-René said to Lauren.
Jean-René turned the lights back on, as the last set of pictures came around for everyone to inspect. Rowan shuffled through them. The debate about what might have happened to Stephanie Wentworth raged around him. He glanced up at Lauren and turned one of the pictures around, holding it against his chest. “This one,” Rowan said. The room silenced.
“You think?” Jean-René snarked.
Lauren leaned forward and took the picture. “Santiago Mateo,” she said. “He’d been an under-grad student at the University when he met Stephanie at the party. He tried to get a plea deal and turn states evidence against the other suspects, but the local authorities didn’t offer any quarter. He got the same verdict and conviction as his cohorts. They were sentenced to life in prison for the kidnapping and murder of Stephanie Wentworth.”
“Life? For kidnapping?”
“Murder.” Rowan gulped. “But they never found a body, did they?”
Lauren shook her head.
“Someone with the resources William Wentworth had could have paid a lot of money to ensure they got locked up,” Jean-René pointed out. “It doesn’t take that much money to buy your freedom in Mexico, so getting someone sent away for life wouldn’t have put a dent in the Wentworth fortune.”
“You think Wentworth bribed the judges for a conviction?” Lauren queried.
“Maybe.”
“Can we go to the jail and interview him?” Bahati asked.
“Not likely,” Lauren
said. “He escaped from jail in 2009 and hasn’t been seen since.”
“Until last week.” Rowan took the picture back and held it up for everyone to see. “Picture him a little older and unshaven.”
Jean-René looked at him dubiously as he took the picture. He studied it a moment. “Yeah. That’s him.
“No way!” Alejandro snatched the picture away. His expression dropped as he looked at it. “Holy hell...” he realized he’d been mistaken. “That is him. That’s Slick Rick.”
“That’s the impostor?” Bahati asked, taking the picture. She looked at it, then looked at Rowan. “If you’ve seen a fugitive from the law don’t you need to report that to somebody?”
A foul word escaped Rowan’s lips. “Yeah, we do. I better start with the Network execs. They’ll need to get legal involved.”
“Oh man! Not legal!” Jean-René groaned. A long chain of expletives in French followed. Lauren glared at him. Rowan did a double take when he saw her expression... and realized what it meant. The Network was not going to be happy. Not one bit.
“Ce n’est pas un problème, mon ami,” Lauren said to Jean-René. It was little more than a platitude. She turned to Rowan. “Better call Jacob.”
Chapter 18
Lauren came out of the meeting with the legal department, looking pale. Rowan was just angry. Jean-René, Bahati and Alejandro stood when the bosses came out of Jacob’s office. They waited for someone to say something... anything. Lauren just walked past them. She had exceeded her allotted time up and had explicit orders from the Chief Legal Counsel to go home and go to bed. She was not to come back to work until she had a medical release, or a twelve-week-old baby in her arms.
“So?” Jean-René asked.
“We’re off the case. I have orders to contact the Mexican authorities and be prepared to return to Mexico City.”
“You have to be kidding? Does Lauren know?” Jean-René’s accent thickened.
“The last thing I want to do is go off and leave her again. But what choice do I have?”
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