Buried Secrets

Zach Collier took several steps closer, charging the air with his power. “There’s always two sides to an issue.”

“Issue! A man’s betrayal isn’t an issue. Leave now, Dr. Collier.” Contempt laced her voice.

“Think about what I said. You’re in danger, especially if the person who did this didn’t find the diary. When you come to your senses, you can reach me at Albuquerque City College. I have an office there in the science building. But don’t wait too long. I’m leaving soon on an expedition.”

Maggie didn’t say anything as he left, the tension in the air evaporating as quickly as water in the desert. Her legs weak, her pulse pounding, she sank down on the top step. As she struggled to bring some kind of order to her thoughts, she scanned the terrain, inky darkness surrounding her. She couldn’t stay another moment. She had to leave.

She quickly reentered the house, turned off the lights and locked up—not that it had done much good earlier. Stepping out onto the porch again, she inhaled deeply, the fresh air calming her frayed emotions. The man’s theory of murder unnerved her more than the break-in. Zach Collier had obviously set out to frighten her, and for a little while she had allowed him to. Well, not anymore. She headed for her white Mustang.

She inserted a classical CD into the slot and turned up the volume. The music of Tchaikovsky filled the car. She emptied her mind of all but the music and the road stretching ahead of her.

Until she reached the outskirts of Santa Fe, Maggie didn’t think much about the car behind her on the highway. But in town, every turn she made, the vehicle behind her did, too. She switched off the CD player and sat up, alert, tense. She was being followed.

Who was it? Collier?

She pressed her foot down on the accelerator. The car behind her increased its speed, too. In the dark she tried to see if it was Zach Collier in his red sports car, but all she saw were the headlights glaring brightly, obliterating her view. She wouldn’t put it past that man to try to intimidate her further. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she thought of him behind her, intentionally trying to frighten her.

Maggie neared an intersection and at the last second swerved across two lanes of traffic to turn down a side street. When she chanced a glance in the rearview mirror, she noticed the car following her had copied her actions.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. I can’t go home. I won’t lead whoever is behind me to my house. I need people.

An idea took root in her mind. She headed for the hospital she worked at. Parking at the emergency entrance, she hopped out of her Mustang and ran into the building, glancing over her shoulder. She glimpsed several cars coming into the parking lot—none red Corvettes.

“Al, will you be a dear and park my car in the doctors’ parking lot?” she asked an orderly when she saw him in the hall.

“Sure, Dr. Somers.”

“Thanks.” She flipped her keys to him as she hurried down the hallway, the swish of the automatic doors to the emergency room sounding as they opened. “Just put the keys in my mailbox when you’ve got a chance.”

She again looked back, but all she saw were a mother and her son coming into the hospital. Was the person still outside waiting for her to leave? Was it Zach Collier? Had she imagined being followed?

The bustle of people comforted her as she made her way to a doctors’ lounge on the second floor. She crossed to the window overlooking the main parking lot, to inch open the blind’s slats. She searched the rows of vehicles. Still no red sports car. But there were other places for someone to sit and wait for her to emerge from the hospital, especially now that the person had been alerted to the fact that Maggie knew she was being followed.

She snatched up the phone and ordered a cab to pick her up at the service entrance in fifteen minutes. Pacing the room, she kept glancing at the window as though that would produce the car that had been behind her since she left the ranch. She hoped that if it was Zach Collier he would sit in his Corvette for hours waiting for her to come back outside. Too bad it wasn’t freezing. And if it wasn’t him—She wouldn’t think about that. It had to be him. He had to be wrong about her grandfather being murdered.

Ten minutes later, she eased open the door to the doctors’ lounge and checked the hallway. Two nurses stood at a counter at the end, and the elevator opened to reveal an older couple getting off. She hurried toward the elevator and slipped inside, punching the button for the basement level, where the service entrance was. Her heart hammered a maddening beat. She took several deep breaths to slow its pace.

She was letting a Collier’s fantastical ravings get her all worked up. Lord, why are You doing this to me? Wasn’t it enough You took Gramps?

When the elevator reached the lower floor, Maggie peered up and down the hallway. Empty. Where was everyone? Home, where she should be. She realized most of the labs and offices were on this level and that the majority of the people were gone by now.

She stepped out, and the doors swished closed. The click of her heels echoed down the long corridor as she walked toward the exit. The hairs on her nape tingled. She quickened her pace and peered back several times. Nothing. Yet.

Reaching the service door, she pushed it open and surveyed the area. Again, nothing. Lights from a car swept through the darkness and blended with the security lights. She squinted and made out the lines of a cab. It came to a stop ten feet away. She rushed toward it.

Slipping inside, she gave the driver her address, then slid down in the backseat so she wasn’t visible to someone on the street. Several blocks away from the hospital, she inched up and glanced around. The empty street calmed the frantic beating of her heart, and she inhaled enough air to fill her lungs.

Leaning back against the cushion, she closed her eyes, and immediately the image of Zach Collier materialized in her thoughts. She shivered. Never in her life had she had a day like this one. She tried to get a handle on all that had happened, but her exhausted mind refused to think beyond one thought: she could be in danger.

When the taxi pulled up outside her house, she scanned the street, searching for anything unfamiliar. She felt as though she were in the middle of a spy story, caught up in the intrigue. She paid the driver, then walked quickly toward her front door. After fumbling around in her purse, she withdrew her key and inserted it into the lock.

A dog barked next door.

She jumped, her purse slipping from her grasp. Her nerves raw, she snatched up the large leather bag and threw a quick look over her shoulder, as if she expected someone to rush up the sidewalk or leap out from the bushes by the porch.

A sigh trembled past her lips. Empty. She hurriedly entered her house, immediately flipping on a light. The bright glow killed the darkness, and she sank back against the closed front door, her body quaking. When she peered into the living room off to the right, half expecting to see a chaotic mess, she slid to the tile floor. Relief mingling with exhaustion swept through her. Everything was in perfect order, as neat and tidy as always.

She should get some rest—put this whole day behind her—but the blur of the past few hours numbed her. She clasped her legs and lay her head on her knees. This time she didn’t close her eyes, and yet she pictured Zach Collier as though he stood in her entryway, as arrogant and audacious as earlier.

What if he was right, and someone had killed Gramps? What if he hadn’t been the person behind her on the highway? What if Gramps’s killer had been tailing her into town, watching her at the ranch? Maggie sat up straight. She realized in that moment that she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew the truth about his death. And the place to start was the diary.

She shoved to her feet and headed for her bedroom, the first room she’d put in order when she’d moved in a few weeks ago. She spent most of her time in it. When she entered, she bypassed her king-sized, four-poster bed and headed for the armoire. She opened the bottom drawer. An old black book, protected in a temperature-and humidity-controlled case, lay nestled among her sweaters. Her hands quivered as she carefully lifted it out.

Had Gramps died for this?

She opened the case. Cautiously, because the aged pages were fragile, she perused the diary, written by a Spanish monk during the sixteenth century. His handwriting was bold and daring. She’d often thought the man must have been like his handwriting, if what he had written about his journey was true. Had he really found evidence of a lost group of Aztecs who had settled in the southwestern part of the United States? Had they carried with them some of the codices that experts thought had been destroyed by the Spanish conquerors? Could the diary and map really lead to where the codices were hidden? Or was it all a legend, as Gramps had come to believe in the end?

She settled onto her bed, carefully laying the diary, still in its case, in her lap. Her grandfather had given it to her on her thirtieth birthday, two years before, because she had always loved hearing about it. The diary had been one of his most prized possessions, yet he had parted with it because of his love for Maggie. If he had been murdered, she had to find the person responsible and make sure he paid for it. And if that meant working with Zach Collier, then she would—just as soon as she checked out his story about his grandfather’s death.

THREE

Maggie stared at the Indian pottery—from various nearby pueblos in a cabinet in the lobby of the science building at Albuquerque City College. The brown, white and black geometric lines blurred as her thoughts became a tangle of possibilities. The receptionist had told her Dr. Zach Collier wasn’t expected on campus because he didn’t have any classes that day, which seemed strange in light of what he had told her the night before.

The young woman must have surmised that the disappointment in Maggie’s expression was due to the fact she wouldn’t get to bask in the man’s presence. Shortly afterward, the receptionist had begun telling Maggie how popular Dr. Collier was with the students. His classes were in demand and filled within one hour of registration.

She should have called ahead to see if he would be here, but she hadn’t wanted to alert him to her coming. What a waste! She’d even arranged for another doctor to take her patients this afternoon.

After loitering in the lobby for thirty minutes and still undecided as to what to do, Maggie returned to the reeptionist’s desk to see if she could persuade the woman to give her Dr. Collier’s home phone number. Five minutes into all the reasons Maggie needed to get hold of him, a dreamy look appeared on the woman’s face, and Maggie wondered if the young lady would swoon in her chair from just talking about the man.

A tingle pricked Maggie’s nape. She rotated slowly and found Zach Collier striding toward her. His body conveyed a leashed energy ready at a second’s notice to explode into action. The man before her had a manner and confidence about him that couldn’t be feigned.

He paused at the desk. “Good afternoon, Kim.”

The receptionist smiled. “I was just telling this woman you wouldn’t be in today.”

“A change in plans. We’ll be in my office, but I’d prefer my presence here be kept a secret.”

Surprise flitted across Kim’s face as her gaze swung from Dr. Collier to Maggie. “Sure.”

Zach indicated for Maggie to go first toward a hallway behind the receptionist’s desk. “My office is the third one on the right.”

Maggie made her way to the door and stopped. Okay, so everyone at the college thought the world of Dr. Zach Collier. That didn’t mean he wasn’t behind whatever was going on—and she still wasn’t sure what that was. She needed to be cautious. After years of conditioning by Gramps, she wouldn’t easily trust anyone with the last name Collier, no matter how persuasive he could be or how popular he was with his students and the college staff.

He unlocked his door and waved her inside. “I must say I wasn’t expecting a change of heart this fast, but I’m glad you want to work with me.”

Maggie froze a few feet into the office, then pivoted toward the man. “Work with you? I never said I was going to do that.” The very idea still didn’t sit well with her, even though logically she knew she should work with him if she wanted to find out what was going on.

“Then why are you here?”

The sound of the door clicking closed shimmied down her. “You know, that is a good question.”

He arched a brow. “And? Are you going to answer it?”

“No.” Because she didn’t have an answer. Why was she here? In the light of a new day she wondered if what had happened less than twenty-four hours ago was all a dream. The one thing she did know was that her grandfather would be furious if he knew she was talking with the enemy.

“So you aren’t convinced that Jake Somers was murdered?”

“Gramps’s horse got spooked, and it threw him. That wasn’t the first time he had fallen from one. This time he hit his head on a rock.” As she stated the facts told to her by the sheriff, she tried to distance herself from the situation, but she couldn’t shake the vision of Gramps lying at the top of the mesa for half a day until his body had been discovered by a ranch hand, who had found her grandfather’s horse riderless near the barn.

“Accidents can be faked. How do you explain your grandfather’s house being ransacked yesterday, like my grandfather’s was?”

“Everyone knew about Gramps’s funeral.” Of course, those people were his friends and neighbors, whom she couldn’t imagine robbing him. So the possibility that Zach Collier might be right had taken root in her mind while she had tossed and turned in her bed. Finally at five in the morning she’d given up the pretense of sleeping, and had done some research concerning Zach Collier on the Internet. She’d read about his grandfather’s death and about Zach’s disappearance the year before in the Amazon. Everyone had thought he was dead until his sister, Kate, had found him living with a tribe of Indians in a remote part of the jungle.

Zach went behind his desk and sat. “Was anything taken?”

“I don’t know. I still have a lot to clean up.” She lowered herself onto a chair nearby, and although a desk separated them, the room was too small, too intimate with its wall-to-wall bookcases filled with Indian artifacts interspersed among scientific volumes, mostly dealing with chemistry and biology. She felt enclosed in a tomb, drawn toward this man against her better judgment.

“I noticed the television was still there. His guns. Those are items a robber would steal.”

“True.” And Gramps’s prized Indian collection had been trashed, not stolen. “Maybe you scared them away.” She was grasping at straws, but she just wasn’t ready to admit to the possibility her grandfather had been murdered. The implication shook her very foundation.

“So you don’t think my theory holds up?” He tapped his fingers against the padded arm of his chair.

“I didn’t say that. I’m here to listen. I owe that much to Gramps.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly dinnertime. Let’s go someplace and eat. I talk better on a full stomach.”

“So like a man to say that,” she muttered as she rose.

He chuckled. “So much of my life has been spent in primitive surroundings searching for the next wonder drug, that when I can I indulge in the finer things in life, like good food.”

“I read in the newspaper last year about your company’s troubles.”

His eyes widened. “You read about a Collier?”

“I like to be informed about the family enemy. Actually, Gramps took great pleasure in showing me the article. You lost the company?”

He shrugged. “One of my partners was dealing in illegal drugs. By the time the dust settled the company was in shambles.”

“So you came here?” Maggie gestured around her.

“My grandfather needed me. I came to be close to him and do something different with my life. I’ve discovered I enjoy teaching, as well as researching. Here I get to do both.”

When Maggie walked to the office door, Zach reached around to open it. His arm grazed hers. An electrical jolt streaked through her. It took all her willpower not to jump back from his touch, not to show him that he could make her react to his very nearness. She sent him a shaky smile as she stepped into the corridor. He returned it with a mind-shattering one that made her legs wobble.

While she strode next to him toward the parking lot, she tried to steel herself against the charm that seemed to come to him so effortlessly today. She reminded herself that he wanted something from her, so of course he would turn it on. It could probably be turned off just as easily. She recalled the evening before. Right now he fit into the civilized environment around him, but she strongly suspected he was more at home in the jungle, with its raw primitiveness. The article she had read had recounted the story of him being lost in the Amazon for weeks, and his near death. His life had been saved by a group of Indians who shunned outsiders, and yet had taken him into their tribe.

“You can follow me, or I can drive and bring you back later. I have to come back anyway to do some work tonight.” Zach paused at her car.

“Your hours are as bad as a medical doctor’s.”

“At the end of the term, I’m mounting an expedition into the jungle, so there’s work to be done. I do it when I can. I have four weeks to get everything done.”

“And find your grandfather’s killer, too?”

His look sharpened. “And yours. I’ll make the time if I have to. I owe my grandfather a lot.”

As she did hers. The thought emphasized a bond between them she wished she could deny. They each loved their grandfathers. “I’ll ride with you. It’ll give us more time to talk.”

Zach indicated his red sports car a few spaces away. “Bought and paid for by me.”

Heat singed her cheeks.

“Another one of my indulgences,” he explained. “I love to feel power beneath me, and I have a fondness for old cars.”

“I guess it beats riding donkeys or walking.” She followed him to his classic 1968 Corvette.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like the jungle. There’s something about it that keeps drawing me back.”

That fit him. Zach Collier had a way of stripping away civilization to its primeval core. His lean power, leashed at the moment, made her wary. He was a dangerous man on more than one level, different from anyone she had met. She knew his partner had tried to kill him, and he had survived.

Seated in his car, Maggie let the silence linger between them as he weaved his way through traffic. She didn’t look at him, but instead concentrated on the view to her side. Although she’d said they could talk on the way to the restaurant, she was tired, plain and simple. That was the only reason this man was getting to her. After spending part of the morning researching him on the Internet, she was beginning to wonder if there was anything he couldn’t do. He had several doctorates and knew many languages. His interests were varied—from finding a new drug in the wilds of the rain forest to spending time with an isolated tribe of Indians. He had come into her grandfather’s house yesterday, stared down the barrel of a rifle and not flinched.

She leaned back, letting the smooth ride lure her into a semiconscious state. If she could just catch up on her sleep, she was sure she would be her old self again—confident, in control, her thoughts neat and organized, not centered on the man next to her.

When Zach pulled into a parking lot at a Mexican restaurant in the foothills of Albuquerque, she didn’t want to get out. That meant she would have to listen to him tell her why he thought her grandfather had been murdered. Suddenly the thought of someone deliberately causing Gramps’s riding accident knotted her stomach. It also meant, if Zach was right, that she was in danger from some unknown source because she had the diary, and she suspected that someone knew it. Was that the person who’d followed her last night? In the back of her mind, she’d hoped it had been Zach.

“After you left last night, what did you do?” She climbed from the Corvette.

The mention of the evening before caused his eyes to become diamond hard. “Went home to nurse my wounded pride. I never thought I would have such a difficult time convincing someone she may be in danger. Of course, I’ve never been arrested before, either.”

Maggie paused at the entrance into the restaurant. “You didn’t follow me into Santa Fe?” She was ninety percent sure of the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

“No, I live here.” When she started to open the door, he placed a hand on her arm and swung her around to face him. “Why? Did something happen after I left?”

The feel of his fingers on her momentarily captivated her attention.

“Maggie, what happened?”

“I was followed into town.”

“That must mean the person doesn’t have the diary, then.”

“It’s not at my grandfather’s house.” She couldn’t tell him everything just yet. She couldn’t shake off the years of hating the name Collier overnight. She wasn’t even sure if it would ever be possible to completely trust someone with that last name, however irrational that might sound. By his own admission Zach had been close to Red Collier, and that man would have given anything to have the map and the diary, had tried years ago to be the sole owner of both. Was Zach fulfilling a deathbed wish to get the monk’s journal and solve the mystery of the lost Aztecs and their codices? Her thoughts chilled her. She normally wasn’t a person who mistrusted and questioned every move someone made, but after the day before, she would be doing that more. Her life might very well depend on it.

“If they have the diary, then why follow you?” Zach asked after they had been seated and the waitress had taken their orders.

“That’s the first question we can ask them when we find them.” She hoped her flippant answer would keep him from probing any deeper, because she couldn’t out-and-out lie to him. She’d never been a good actress.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his forehead furrowed. “This whole business doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Our grandfathers have had the map and diary for years. Why the interest in them now?”

“Exactly. I’m still not totally convinced anything is going on.”

“What will it take to convince you?”

“You say you weren’t the one who followed me, but—”

He bent forward, his eyes pinpoints, anger slashing his face. “Do you have to get killed to believe me? Something is going on, and the person behind it won’t stop until he gets what he wants. As to why now, I’m not sure. It wasn’t common knowledge that our grandfathers had the map and diary. Maybe one of them talked.”

“In recent years Gramps had decided the rumors he had heard years ago were just that, rumors based on legend, not facts. He didn’t think the diary was important to anyone but him. He retrieved all the information he needed for his anthropological study of the Aztec Indians at the time of the Spanish conquest, but he never discussed the diary with anyone but me and my father. I don’t even think my mother knew about it.” She folded her arms and glared across the table at him. “Gramps didn’t say anything.”

Zach averted his gaze for a few seconds. “I can’t say that about my granddad. He had a stroke a couple of months ago, and he would sometimes ramble on about the past. He could have said something. But most people probably wouldn’t have realized what he was talking about.”

“But maybe one did?”

He nodded.

“Do you know who visited him?”

“Not for sure. A lot of his old colleagues from the college came to see him, but the rehabilitation center didn’t keep a list of visitors. I asked.”

She was well aware that Red Collier had gone on to garner quite a reputation in the field of archaeology, and had taught at the same college as Zach. “Too bad. We could have started with that.”