Look What the Wind Blew In (47 page)

“Go away!” Jared kicked at the javelina, catching Rover with the toe of his boot.

Rover squealed, running a few feet away, then stopping.

“Leave him alone, Jared.”

“I’ve had enough of that foul pig.”

“He’s a javelina.”

“He’s disgusting. Almost every time I sneaked into your tent, he was there to squeal on me.”

That’s how Jared had known about the shell. He’d been stealing into her tent all along, snooping through her stuff, the nosey bunghole. “So that’s why you were there with Rover that one night when I came back from the shower.” She glared at him. “You said you’d heard him squealing and rushed to his aid. But that wasn’t it at all, was it? Rover had been protecting his territory, ratting you out.”

At the sound of his name, the javelina came running back over to her.

“No, Rover. Get out of here.” She nudged him away.

He brushed against her leg again, sticking close.

“Go!” She pushed him toward the jungle.

Rover turned and looked at her, tilting his head.

“Go home,” she said, shooing him away with her hands.

“Stupid, disgusting pig,” Jared said from behind her. She glared over at him and froze at the sight of him aiming his gun at the javelina.

“No!” She rammed into Jared as he squeezed off a shot. The explosion was deafening, then several loud squeals pierced the air.

She turned back to Rover. Fresh blood was splattered on the dry grass, but there was no javelina to be seen. The bushes at the jungle’s edge shook in his wake.

Jared bellowed a victorious shout that ended in laughter.

Her eyes watered. Rage, fear, and hatred roiled in her throat.

“Oh, please,” he said when he turned the barrel back on her. “Don’t tell me you’re going to cry over that vile pig.”

“He’s a fucking javelina, you prick.” And the bastard was going to pay for shooting him. “You got the seashell, Jared,” she spoke through clenched teeth. “What else do you want from me?”

He rubbed the barrel of the gun down the side of her face from temple to jaw, his eyes a bit too manic for comfort. “Nothing much, darling. Just your life.”

* * *

Was that a gunshot?

As Quint rubbed the ropes faster against the jagged edge of the fallen block of ceiling, he could feel the binding loosening. Sweat soaked his shirt, dripping from everywhere.

If it were a gunshot, it had to have been close for him to hear it inside this limestone coffin. Fear for Angélica made him work harder on freeing his hands. He had to hurry up and get to her, help her.

The sound of someone coming down the passageway stopped him short. There was more than one person coming this time. He looked over at the entryway, his breath held.

Angélica stumbled through first, tripping over a small pile of rocks. Quint winced as he watched her fall to her knees on the floor.

She was alive! The relief flooding him was short-lived, slowed by the sight of her escort.

Steel! He was back.

Before Quint could get a word out, Steel grabbed Angélica by the hair and yanked her to her feet. Pulling a .38 Special out from behind him, he aimed it at Quint.

Oh, hell! What was he going to do with
that
?

Then realization struck him like a cannonball to the gut. Not only had Steel been responsible for Dr. Hughes’ missing foot and Dr. Norah Ann Sutcliffe’s so-called accident, but all of the injuries and sabotage here at the dig site over the last few weeks. He was their curse.

Damn. They had a killer on their hands, and unfortunately, Quint’s were still tied.

“Hello, Parker.” Steel’s flashlight blinded him. “What a nasty scrape you have there. How’s that lump on the back of your head?”

Quint squinted in the bright light. “I knew you’d surface again, Steel.”

“Really?” Steel turned on a lantern that sat on the floor, setting his flashlight at his feet. “You think you have me all figured out, Mr. Detective? Did all of Mrs. Hughes’ clippings and notes about me that you have tucked away in your tent spell it out for you?”

“No. Shit floats.” Quint wondered how many times Steel had been in his tent searching through his things. It appeared somebody had been busy digging for his own treasures when everyone else had been working.

Steel smirked. “We’ll see who’s the funny man when I bury you two in here under tons of rock and skip on back to my alibi in Cancun.”

“Jared,” Angélica broke in, stepping in front of Quint. “This is between you and me. Leave Parker out of it.”

Steel kept the gun held high. “Actually, darling, Parker and I have business of our own to attend to regarding our old friend, Dr. Hughes.” He nodded his head toward the skeleton Quint had uncovered. “But I’ll take care of you first, if you insist.” He pointed the barrel at her. “Untie Parker’s feet. I want him standing for this.”

She knelt next to Quint’s legs, her hands trembling as she tried to untie the knot. She looked up at him. He’d expected to see fear in her eyes; instead, fury burned there, blasting him back in surprise.

“I’m gonna fuck him up royally,” she whispered.

Quint’s chest tightened. Oh, no, what was she going to try in the sights of a loaded .38?

“What was that, darling?” Steel was squinting, practicing aiming the gun at arm’s length, focusing on different parts of Angélica’s body.

“She wondered why you killed Dr. Hughes,” Quint lied, trying to distract Steel from pulling the trigger.

Steel closed one eye, targeting, then the other. “He got too nosey.”

“Dr. Hughes knew about Norah, didn’t he?”

“The old man got lucky.”

Angélica freed Quint’s ankles, tossing the rope aside. She stood a little stiffly, rubbing the side of her thigh as she rose. What had Steel done to her already? Kicked her? Went to town on her, too?

“Lucky, my ass,” Quint said. “You were so eager to climb to the top back then that you got reckless. He saw that in you. That’s why he never trusted you.” That explained several decisions Dr. Hughes had made that last dig season, involving Quint oftentimes when protocol would have called for Steel.

Steel shrugged. “He’s dead now, so his trust doesn’t matter anymore.” He pointed at Quint with the gun. “Darling, help Parker up. I have a feeling he’s going to feel a little woozy when he’s on his feet, so keep him standing.”

She followed his order, her hands gentle on Quint while her glare sliced and diced her ex-husband.

A sharp pain pierced Quint’s skull as soon as he was upright. A wave of nausea made him double over, while shooting stars filled his vision. He felt himself tipping. Angélica wrapped her arms around him, holding him upright. After several seconds his head cleared. The nausea ebbed and the pain between his eyes waned to a dull throb. He pulled out of her grip, waving off her look of concern.

She touched the back of his neck, the sticky part. Her fingers were dark red when she pulled them away. “What did you do to him, Jared?”

“You should be more concerned about what I’m going to do to you.” Steel held the gun pointed toward her forehead.

They needed that .38! “Why did you kill Norah?”

Steel’s focus shifted back to Quint. “For a man who should be enjoying his last few breaths in the present, you sure seem obsessed with the past.”

“Did Norah know about Roy Bumm?” he asked, trying to keep the self-important jerk talking, not shooting.

The gun lowered slightly. “Ah, so you found out about Roy Bumm. I’m surprised you’re clever enough to put that together.”

“That wasn’t it.” Angélica’s voice overflowed with loathing. “Knowing you, Jared, Dr. Sutcliffe had something you wanted. A certain theory, I’m betting, that would secure you a master’s degree.”

“Now, darling, remember your place.”

Quint inched toward Angélica, who looked ready to pounce. That’s when he noticed the camp knife she had partially tucked behind her, hidden from Steel’s sight.

Oh, hell. She knew better than to bring a knife to a gunfight.

“Of course, it all makes sense now,” she said. “You seduced her into sharing her theory with you, and then you killed her.”

Quint frowned, sidetracked. “Really?”

She nodded. “Ask Jared to explain to you the relationship between the
tzolkin
and
haab
calendar cycles?” She sneered at Steel. “Better yet, have him tell you the date in our calendar system that is equivalent to 12
Baktun
, 19
Katun
, 2
Tun
, 13
Uinal
, and 19
Kin
.”

Where was she going with this? Quint turned to Steel, wondering if he were going to bite.

“Oh, that’s right,” Angélica taunted. “You don’t know the answer to either one, do you?” Her scoff echoed off the walls. “I never understood how you could’ve written such a highly praised paper on the Maya calendar cycles in relation to the Long Count calendar system without even knowing how to read the representational glyphs—until now.”

Steel’s face contorted in fury. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Speaking and writing in Mayan, reading glyphs as if they’re comic books.”

“It’s called education, you village idiot. You should try it sometime.”

The .38 Special was back, leveled on Angélica’s face. “Norah got what was coming to her. Like you, she thought she was smarter than me.” Looking mad as a hatter, Steel’s smile returned, too. “Like her, you’re going to pay for that mistake.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Quint saw her shift her grip on the knife, getting it prepped to throw.

“You don’t know what you’re doing with those shells, Jared.” She angled her body ever so slightly, her focus solely on her ex, holding him in place. “You need me to explain and write the papers, or you’ll look like a fool.”

“I’ll use your mother’s notes. She was always very thorough in her reports.” Steel raised an eyebrow. “Any last words, darling?”

“Yeah, I have it here in my pants.” She shoved her left hand into her pocket. When she pulled it back out, her middle finger stood solo. “Here,” she held it out to him like a gift, “take this and go fuck yourself!”

Everything shifted into fast motion.

Quint saw Steel’s eyes narrow in preparation for the gunshot.

On instinct, he dodged in front of Angélica, almost getting sliced by the knife whizzing past him.

He saw the knife make purchase in Steel’s ribs right as he squeezed the trigger. The gunshot exploded in the small chamber, deafening.

Quint’s left shoulder kicked back. Pain rocketed through his chest and arm, knocking him to his knees.

“No!” Angélica reached for him.

Another shot rang out.

Quint’s thigh bucked. A flash of pain jammed into it like a red hot poker. Then his leg gave out and he collapsed, landing on his throbbing left shoulder.

Agony clouded his vision. He rolled onto his stomach. The floor felt so warm against his cheek.

Angélica’s boot came into his line of sight.

His vision narrowed, a dark vignette edging the scene in front of him, swelling inward.

Angélica’s voice echoed as she called his name.

Before he could answer, the world faded away, taking the pain with it.

* * *

Jared clutched his side, the knife handle sticking out below his rib. He still held the gun on Quint, who lay on the floor, blood from his wounds soaking through his shirt and pants.

“You fucking prick!” Angélica glared up at him from where she crouched next to Quint.

“I wanted to do that so badly twenty years ago. It was worth the wait.” He turned the gun on her. “And then there was one. What do you think? Red roses at your memorial service?” He yanked the knife out of his side, his face scrunching in pain for a moment.

Counting on Jared’s weakness for blood to work in her favor, she rubbed her palm over Quint’s blood. “Look, Jared.” She held her hand out toward him. “Look at the wet, sticky blood.”

He turned his head away, squinting at her through the corners of his eyes. “I’d rather not.” He flexed his finger over the trigger. “Say goodbye to your photojournalist, darling.”

A streak of movement came from the outer passageway, darting across the floor toward Jared. It took a split second for her mind to make sense of it.

Rover?
Blood from his half shot off ear covered part of his head and neck. The javelina bit down hard on the back of Jared’s lower leg.

Her ex-husband screeched in pain.

A gunshot boomed. The bullet whistled past her ear, ricocheting off the stone wall into the partially cut away support beam that spanned the ceiling.

Howling still, Jared fell to his knees trying to kick Rover away, but the javelina held on, jaws locked.

The howl turned into a roar. Jared turned trying to aim at his attacker. Before he could pull the trigger again, Angélica tackled him and sent him tumbling back into a pile of rocks.

His gun clattered onto the stone floor. She lunged for it, grabbing the grip. Jared latched onto it, too, his hand covering hers. He swung at her with his free hand, catching a fistful of hair and yanking it hard. She kicked him in the jaw, sending him reeling to the side. He pulled her with him as he fell, falling on top of her.

Jared tried to take the gun from her, but she managed to get her finger on the trigger. He tugged at it and she squeezed.

Another shot rang out.

The bullet hit the ceiling, ricocheting down into the pile of rocks to his left.

Jared squeezed her gun wrist. She turned her head and sank her teeth into his hand that still clutched her hair, feeling tendons crunch between her jaws.

His scream of pain was guttural. He fell back, holding his hand to his chest. “You bitch!”

She scrambled to her feet, clutching the gun tightly. “I may be a bitch.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, spitting his blood on the floor next to him. “But I’m a bitch with a gun. Now stand up, you worthless piece of shit.”

“Angélica, darling.” He held out his good hand as he rose. “You don’t want to kill me. It will ruin your career, and taint your family’s reputation in the archaeological field.”

“You’ve stolen your last theory, Jared. I’m going to make sure the world knows what you’ve done.”