Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2

by Lois D. Brown

  “No,” said Lester. “I’ll hold the baseball bat while you pull back the curtain.”

  Kenny exhaled slowly. “Okay. Fine. You hold the bat while I move the curtain. Let’s get this done with, okay?”

  “Fine. You go first.”

  Still asleep, Misty stretched her legs out, semi blocking Maria’s path to the dog house door.

  “Whatever,” Kenny grumbled, stomping out of the kitchen. “You know, you really bug me.”

  The men’s footsteps followed one another.

  It was Maria’s chance to get out of there. Throwing the disgusting towels off her, Maria tried to slide to the opening, but she knocked into Misty’s legs. The dog yapped and rolled over into the center of the igloo, now completely blocking the exit.

  Scooting into the most awkward position known to human beings—except for Chinese contortionists—Maria leveraged her weight and used both hands, while still holding onto the smoke grenade, to push the solid-built dog away from the kennel opening. This time it barked and its eyes opened fully.

  “Shhhh.” Maria attempted to soothe the groggy beast.

  It turned its head toward Maria, matching her stare.

  Maria pushed the dog again, but this time the dog’s hind leg began to shake violently.

  “What’s goin—” Maria muttered.

  As the paw shook, a transformation began to happen. The paw lengthened and widened. In the place of the furry digits appeared a set of ten cloudy toenails in need of a trim and some prescription fungal treatment cream.

  Regardless of their condition, the toenails were most decidedly human. And they were on top of wrinkly, old toes. And those toes were now attached to what seemed to be two calloused feet, both adorned with clementine-sized bunions.

  Maria screamed.

  Loudly.

  With a final thrust, Maria managed to get the dog out of her way enough to make a cleared path out. Sliding on her belly, she exited the igloo and was on her feet in seconds. She darted to the door and grabbed hold of the door knob.

  A voice behind her boomed, “Stop or I’ll beat the—”

  A pause.

  “Awe crap, Lester. It’s a woman. I can’t hit a woman with a bat. My mamma would kill me.”

  With that, Maria pulled the pin from the smoke grenade she was holding and flung it onto the floor in front of the men.

  Kenny shouted a stream of expletives, most of which Maria figured must have been his own special language. Lester simply bellowed like a birthing mama cow.

  Maria yanked the door open as a mountain of smoke poured from the small object. Without waiting to see what happened next, she darted out the door and ran.

  Away from the men.

  And their bat.

  But mostly she ran from the human foot growing out of the leg of the mastiff. Why did her mind play such horrible tricks on her? Was she going to have to deal with a new kind of hallucination now? And just when she finally felt she had more control over her PTSD.

  Cursing her terrorists in Tehran for the millionth time, Maria sprinted to Beth’s car, where her best friend waited behind the steering wheel. Despite Maria’s latest craziness, tonight had been a success. She had the contents of the safe in her possession and she could hardly wait to see what secrets they revealed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Weeks later [Walz] came back … with a tale to tell. When their supplies began to dwindle, they decided only one of them would go out for provisions while the other one stayed behind to guard the diggings. A coin toss selected Walz to saddle up and lead the mules down the canyon. He was gone for several days. When he returned, he came upon a horrifying scene.

  —“Mysteries & Miracles of Arizona” by Jack Kutz. Rhombus Publishing Company, 1992, page 27.

  THE NIGHT OF SUBTERFUGE and subsequent paw/foot hallucination was totally worth it for Maria. It was four in the morning and she and Beth still hadn’t gone to bed. The manila envelope she’d stolen had turned out to contain exactly the sort of evidence Maria hoped it would.

  “You’re right,” said Beth, who’d been staring at the same photograph for the last ten minutes. She’s with a woman. That is most definitely a woman’s body. But the way the shadow falls, I can’t see any of her face.”

  The photograph in question was one that Maria had found, along with about thirty others, in the envelope she’d stolen from the lodge. Each photo pictured different individuals hiking in the Superstitions—sometimes alone or sometimes with others. All were taken on different days that ranged over the last decade.

  On the back of the picture of Dakota was written October 22, the day of her fateful disappearance six years ago. Dakota’s figure was circled with pen and “#57” was written off to the side. In the photo, standing a few feet to the left of Dakota, was another figure. The person wore shorts that revealed attractively toned legs. Up a bit further on the body was the obvious presence of breasts. No matter how you looked at it, the figure was most definitely not Rod. That much was obvious. His broad, muscular frame never could squeeze into such a feminine silhouette.

  “I knew it wasn’t Rod.” It was at least the tenth time Maria had said that exact phrase in the last fifteen minutes. She and Beth sat on the king-sized guest bed in Brian’s house, their backs against the headboard. “I mean, I didn’t know what to think the day we found the skeleton, but I was in shock. When I really took some time to think about it, I knew Rod hadn’t killed Dakota.”

  Beth patted Maria’s hand.

  “However,” continued Maria, “I didn’t think it was a woman who killed her. Why is that? I know there are plenty of violent women out there. Like Sherrie Mercer, for example.”

  Beth’s gaze didn’t move from the photograph of Dakota. “You didn’t think it was a woman because statistically there was only one woman among your five suspects. That meant there was only a twenty percent chance of it, and your logical mind went to the most logical choice.”

  Maria gaped at Beth and then finally said, “How do you know me better than I know myself?”

  “I’m a hairdresser.” It was the answer Beth used for every difficult question. The odd thing was how often it was the correct one.

  “Gotcha. Hair dresser. I should have known.”

  The two women laughed until Beth’s mouth opened wide into a yawn. “Honestly, I know you do all-nighters all the time, Maria, but I don’t. I’ve got to get some sleep.”

  “Okay, so what do we do about Melissa? She’s our number one female suspect.”

  “I guess you go talk to her and pump her for information or something like that. That’s what they do in the movies.” Beth slid from a sitting position into a horizontal one.

  Since seeing the photograph of the woman with Dakota, Maria’s mind had been on fire trying to comprehend all of the implications it meant for Rod if Melissa was the actual murderer.

  Beth handed Maria the photo.

  “Here’s the thing, Rod’s in danger. If Melissa really is the guilty one, that means she’s not defending him, she’s making sure no one else can defend him. But,” Maria sighed, “if I go in and bulldoze Melissa, there may be repercussions for Rod’s case. I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “Absolutely.” Beth curled onto her side.

  “Also, Melissa might not be working alone. I’d like to approach her more subtly, not head on. For example, didn’t Tom say Melissa was talking with Rep. Lankin the day she ‘hired’ him to follow us into the Superstitions?”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  Maria tapped her finger on the bed. “Makes me wonder what the two of them had been talking about.”

  “Me too.” Another huge yawn escaped Beth’s mouth. She didn’t try to cover it up.

  “Okay,” said Maria, “we sleep for two hours, get up, and get on the road. We’ve got to make sure Rod is getting the help he needs. My gut tells me I need to talk with Rep. Lankin. He and Melissa seem to know each other well. Maybe I can get some information out of him.”

 
Beth eyes were closed, but she still managed to get out a cohesive thought. “Let’s divide and conquer. I’ll check on Rod tomorrow while you—”

  “But—” interrupted Maria.

  Beth opened her eyes and held up her hand, a no-nonsense expression on her face. “I know you want to see him. I know you’re worried. But I have no idea how to pump Rep. Lankin for info. I’m a mom and a hairdresser. Trust me, I will take care of Rod the best I can. But we need to hurry and solve this thing before Melissa does more damage. The last thing we want is for her to bury Rod so far under lies and false evidence that we can’t dig him out.”

  Beth was right, of course.

  Almost like someone had turned off Beth’s power switch, her eyes closed and her breathing slowed.

  Maria set her phone alarm for 6 a.m. in case she actually fell asleep.

  Which, of course, she didn’t. Instead she stayed up doing Google searches on all of Rod’s ASU friends. When she went to see Rep. Lankin the next day, she wanted to be prepared.

  ***

  Unlike most politicians, Rep Lankin kept early office hours. By the time Maria arrived at the government office building in Phoenix, he was already at work. However, after sitting in the waiting room for thirty minutes with a handful of Lankin’s constituents, with no clue as to how long it would take to actually see the representative, Maria decided she was done wasting time. In an obnoxiously loud voice, she initiated a conversation with the woman sitting on the other end of the plush velveteen couch.

  “You know, a few days ago I was hiking in the Superstition Mountains with Representative Lankin. Did you know,” Maria’s voice raised several decibels, “he found the skeleton of a murdered woman from six years ago?”

  “Are you serious?” The woman listening had a business haircut, full on top and tapered at the ends. She wore a tailored suit and thick, but well applied, makeup. “I didn’t read about that in the news.”

  “The Thorton case?” questioned Maria.

  “Oh, yes, I did see that on the internet. I’m surprised Representative Lankin is involved with that.”

  “Yes, surprising to say the least.” Maria continued in an exaggerated tone. “He was in the mountains hiking with some of his former law students when he found the remains of the woman. So sad. Her head must have been cut off because the skull was ….”

  “Miss Branson,” said the grandmotherly-looking secretary behind the desk at the front of the room, a forced smile on her face. “Representative Lankin can see you now.”

  “Excellent.” Maria stood up and shook the hand of her unaware co-conspirator. In a normal voice Maria said, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  In the hallway to Rep. Lankin’s office hung several impressive Arizona wilderness prints, all signed by the same Christopher Mayfield, a name she recalled from her early morning online research.

  “Christopher Mayfield.” Maria scooted over to get a closer look at the artwork. “That was Representative Lankin’s step-son? The one who died?”

  A curt nod from the secretary. “Yes. He was quite a good artist.” The tight-lipped assistant opened an office door.

  Inside, Rep. Lankin stood up to greet Maria. “Good morning.” Moving from behind the desk to shake her hand, he said, “Maria, it’s wonderful to see you. I don’t recall seeing your name on my appointment list.” As he spoke, he expertly led Maria to the cushioned chair on the opposite side of his desk.

  “I didn’t have an appointment. Your secretary sneaked me into your schedule.”

  “Fabulous. Glad she did. What a nice surprise.” Rep. Lankin had returned to his seat and with elbows propped on the beautiful antique wood desk, he leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking so much about Rod. Unbelievable, really. I loved him like a son.”

  Instinctively, Maria’s non-verbal defense mechanisms kicked into gear, even after she told herself to say in control. “So, you think he did it?”

  “What else is there to believe?”

  The cell phone in Maria’s pocket buzzed. She slipped it out onto her lap, glancing down at the text. It was from Beth:

  Rod is completely crazy. His brother Grant is here. I’m posing as his girlfriend so I can get visiting access.

  If Maria hadn’t already been feeling massive stress, Beth’s message tipped her over the edge. But she was here to do a job.

  Focus.

  Maria leaned forward in her own chair, matching Rep. Lankin’s forceful body language. “Are you telling me that a smart man like you believes Rod killed his wife and got away with it for six years, only to come back for a reunion and agree to go hiking in the Superstitions right where he’d left her decaying corpse?”

  “Well,” Rep. Lankin shifted in his chair, “maybe he was feeling guilty. Rod’s always had a strong sense of right and wrong. Maybe he came back to Phoenix and agreed to go on the hike because subconsciously he wanted to get caught. I mean, the evidence doesn’t lie.”

  “Planted evidence lies all the time. And so do people. I think all of Rod’s so called friends are hiding things, including you.” All the skills she’d learned in her Criminal Interview and Interrogation Techniques class at Georgetown were emerging. It was one of the few college classes a person could actually use the rest of her life. Imagine having teenagers. Calculus or humanities would be of no help there. But interrogations? Now that would be useful.

  Rep. Lankin recoiled in feigned offense from Maria’s accusation. “What exactly do you think I’m lying about? I didn’t even know Rod’s wife. I have nothing to do with any of this, except I was unfortunate enough to be present when the skeleton was found. Stories like that don’t sit well with people, but so far I’ve kept it out of the news.”

  “That’s a relief.” Maria’s sarcasm wasn’t lost on the politician. “Rod wasn’t quite so lucky.”

  “Point noted.” Rep. Lankin took his elbows off the desk, rested them on the arms of his chair, and steepled his fingers under his chin. He looked the part of some conniving mastermind about to foil the hero’s plan to save the universe.

  The phone in Maria’s lap vibrated and another text flashed across the screen:

  They’re taking Rod to a high-security mental health facility. They’re saying it looks like a schizophrenic episode. I’m going with. I won’t leave him alone, promise.

  Maria needed information, and she needed it now. “I’m happy to remedy the fact the press doesn’t know about your presence on the mountain the day we found Dakota’s skeleton. I’ll call them right now if needed.” She picked up her phone with Beth’s last text message still on the screen. The word “schizophrenic” popped out at her, and her heart raced.

  “Wait.” Rep. Lankin deflated the tiniest bit. “I admit it. I think too much about my political career. That was callous and uncalled for. I really do like Rod. Always have. But honestly, I was in a bit of shock the day we found the skeleton. It brought back some memories I don’t like to think about.”

  “Such as?” Now the conversation was going somewhere.

  Rep. Lankin steadied himself. “I lost a son to the Superstition Mountains. The experience of finding Dakota’s remains brought back memories of the entire ordeal. I felt helpless. I didn’t see how my presence there would do anyone any good, including Rod. So I left and have tried not to get involved.”

  “Do Rod’s friends know your son died in the Superstitions?”

  Rep. Lankin’s façade faded. “Only Melissa does. She’s done some investigation into the situation for me.”

  “Is that what you two were talking about the day she sent Tom into the Superstitions to follow me and Beth?”

  “No. Well, sort of. I was asking her if she thought this new situation would dredge up the incident with my son. He was my step-son really. Most don’t know about his death.” He fingered the corners of a stack of papers. “He was a good young man. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

  “What happened to him?” Maria had settled back into her chair, opened up her arms, and s
oftened her expression. Everything about her said, You can trust me.

  “He got obsessed with the treasure. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He got in with the wrong kind of people—drugs. I think he was on a massive high when he decided to go into the Superstitions alone. He had no provisions. No water. You’ve heard this kind of story before. He died stranded out there …” His voice drifted. We found his body picked apart by animals a few weeks after he went missing.

  Maria waited to speak, letting the representative know she heard every word and was contemplating them. Above all, she couldn’t seem dismissive.

  Rep. Lankin leaned back in his chair. “It’s a skeleton in my closet I don’t want the press to bring up in my political career. Is that too much to ask?”

  Now was the time to attack. “Is that why you financially support the Keepers?” asked Maria. “Did they help you find your son’s body?”

  Rep. Lankin’s eyebrows rose. “How do you know about the Keepers.”

  “Derrick.”

  “What did he tell you about them?”

  “I actually met them. At least, the Materfamilias Sierra. She was very … interesting.”

  “Yes, she is most definitely interesting. I met her right after Chris disappeared. She hasn’t gotten a day older since then.”

  “Or younger,” Maria added with a smile. It was time for her to bring on the charm and win the man over to her side.

  Despite the somber feeling in the room, Rep. Lankin chuckled. “No, she’s definitely not getting any younger.” He paused then spoke again, this time in a more subdued voice. “The woman offered to help me. We traded services. She funneled me information—she was much more in the know than any of the police were. Her crew of treasure hunters were the ones who found Chris’s body. In return, I stick my neck out for her in the political arena. Even though I wasn’t exactly in politics back then, I could still pull a few strings.”

  “And you continue to pull strings for her?”

  Rep. Lankin’s held Maria’s gaze. “Yes. Yes, I do.”