Authors: Margaret Daley
“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.”
“We can try interviewing members of the staff and see if anyone remembers anything.”
“That might be a good idea.”
“Whoever is after this legend won’t be giving it to any museum. It has to be a private collector.” Anger cut deep into his features. “I can’t tolerate knowledge lost for private gains.”
She thought of what her grandfather had hoped to glean from the information written on the deerskins about the lost sect of Aztecs, if indeed, they had fled to the Southwest ahead of the Spanish conquerors. “I know one of your areas of expertise is anthropology, like my grandfather. It could sure enhance your reputation if you discovered the codices and evidence of the lost Aztec tribe who tried to preserve part of their culture from the Spanish conquistadors.”
The harsh glint in Zach’s eyes stabbed her. “The reason you can say that, Dr. Somers, is because you don’t know me at all. Was that comment made because I’m a Collier? Do you judge a man without getting to know him?” The taut lines of his body transmitted his feelings more than his quiet words, spoken with a lethal edge.
Her gaze fixed upon the nerve that twitched in the hardened line of his jaw, and she regretted her words. She moistened her dry lips. “No, not usually.”
“The most important reason I want to find the codices is that it was Granddad’s lifelong dream. He believed they existed to the day he died. He wanted to prove once and for all a group of Aztecs had lived in the Southwest, separated from the ones near Mexico City. He believed the legend that they had taken some of the Aztec treasures with them for safekeeping.” He brought his glass of water to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “It may have been wishful thinking on my grandfather’s part, because he hated to admit that something of such historical significance would have been destroyed by the Spanish.”
The intense way he was looking at her made her realize how lacking she was in the ways of men and women. Except for her one relationship in college with BradWent-worth, she hadn’t dated much, having devoted her life to her studies and becoming a doctor. Now that she was established in a thriving practice, she still didn’t date much.
She breathed in sharply and caught the scent of him, enticingly masculine—clean, fresh, like the desert at night. When his regard dropped to the pulse beat at her throat, his look entranced her. Then slowly his gaze reconnected with hers, and the earlier bond she had experienced grew.
For a long moment she couldn’t think clearly. Then, from a willpower she was beginning to realize was lacking more and more around him, she glanced away. She had to focus on what was important: the map and diary that could lead to the Aztec codices. “Was the map stolen?” she asked finally.
“Yes.”
The anxiety in the air between them settled around her shoulders heavily, weighing her down as though it were an iron cloak. “Then what’s the use? If the legend is right, you have to have both the map and the diary to find the location of the codices and any other Aztec treasure there may be.”
He straightened, alert. “Because I have a copy of the map. Do you have a copy of the diary?”
“No, and even if I did, why should I trust you?” Red Collier had betrayed Gramps, taking the map and his true love, Willow-in-the-Wind, for his wife. If the man had been able to steal the journal from her grandfather, he would have done that, too. She had grown up knowing every minute detail of the feud between the two men, which had started over a woman they’d both loved and a treasure they had both wanted to find, first as partners, later as enemies.
“Because I don’t want you to end up like your grandfather—dead.”
His directness sizzled the air. Did he know she had the diary?
Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their dinners, and the moment shattered like a rock hitting a window. Maggie picked up her fork and started to eat. “I worked through lunch, fitting some afternoon patients in so I could come see you. I didn’t eat anything. I’m starved, and this looks delicious.”
“I see you’re still not totally convinced someone killed your grandfather.”
“No. As you said earlier, it’s just a theory. No real proof.”
“A scientist to the end. I can appreciate that. I hope, however, that that end isn’t a permanent one.”
She tightened her hold on her fork. “If you’re trying to frighten me, you’re doing a nice job.”
“Good. Someone needs to scare some sense into you.”
“Then go to the police with your theory. Let them figure it out. It’s what they’re supposed to do.”
“A job that won’t mean much to them. This is very personal to me. Besides, as you just pointed out, I don’t have any concrete proof something has happened.”
She gestured with her fork. “Exactly. In my profession, I deal with facts, Dr. Collier, as you’re supposed to in yours.”
He took a bite of his quesadilla. “It’s facts you want? Number one, both of our grandfathers died weeks apart, mine supposedly from natural causes, yours from an accident. There are ways to stop a person’s heart that appear natural. And there are ways to make something seem like an accident when it isn’t. Number two, both of their houses, and Granddad’s room at the home, were trashed right after their deaths. Number three, you were followed by someone last night. Number four, our grandfathers have a past that connects them to an archaeological treasure that has never been found, and could be worth millions.” Intensity vibrated in his voice as his eyes bored into her.
Maggie felt as though they were the only two people in the whole restaurant, and everything was wiped from her view but him. She was desperate not to believe him, because if what he said was true then her life would change drastically from this moment forward. The unknown lurked before her, prodding her fear to the foreground. She’d battled desperately to remain in control of her life, and that control was slipping away from her.
“Those facts can be explained. Accidents and natural deaths happen all the time. People are robbed all the time. And their connection is almost sixty years old.”
He leaned forward. “What about the person who followed you last night? A weirdo out for his jollies?”
“That’s a possibility.”
Zach shook his head. “You’re the most stubborn woman I know. Fine. I tried to warn you of the danger you’re in, but it’s obvious you’re in denial. I’ll work on this without your help.”
He had tried to understand her position, but he was having a hard time doing it when the facts seemed so obvious. But he couldn’t turn his back on her. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her, which was why he had returned to the ranch the night before even though he had known it wasn’t a wise thing to do.
While Maggie played with her food, not really eating any of her cheese enchiladas, he remembered their confrontation the day before. He should be angry, but that emotion had died quickly. Instead, all he could think about was her long auburn hair, released from its restraints, framing her face in wild disarray while she stood on her grandfather’s porch, aiming a shotgun at him. Or her green eyes that were the color of dew-kissed grass. Or her petite frame, just over five feet, that his dwarfed. She was one dynamite-looking woman with one dynamite temper to match.
Taking a bite of his food without really tasting it, he came to a decision. He would give her a few days and then approach her again. She needed time to digest that her grandfather had died, let alone that he might have been murdered. Zach would give her as much time as he could allow, which wasn’t much, then he would make her see the truth:
her life was at stake.
The waitress approached the table. “Would you like dessert?”
“I wouldn’t have room for another bite.” Maggie smiled at the woman. “The dinner was wonderful.”
Her smile was beautiful, Zach thought. It encompassed her whole face, making her eyes shine as if the person receiving it were the only important one around.
Great! That was all he needed to do. Become attracted to a woman who was off-limits. He agreed with her. A Collier and a Somers together would make both their grandfathers turn over in their graves.
Zach tossed his napkin on the table. “I’ll take you back to your car.”
After paying, he rose and allowed Maggie to walk ahead. He foresaw another restless night, trying to get her out of his mind. It didn’t sit well with him that she wouldn’t accept his help. If anything happened to her, he would have a hard time not blaming himself.
Outside, the night air, laced with spring, wrapped him in warmth. Before climbing into his car, Zach paused to view the lights of Albuquerque below him. He loved this part of the country, but it had taken his partner’s betrayal to get him to move here from Dallas. As a child he used to come every summer to see his grandparents, and he would treasure those memories forever. His heart twisted with the thought that he would never see his grandfather again. Anger pushed through the pain and stiffened his resolve to get to the bottom of his granddad’s murder. He might not have proof, but he’d learned to listen to his instincts long ago.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Her voice, with a husky timbre, penetrated his thoughts. “Yes, I have a home not too far from here. I love this view. Sometimes I just wish I had more time to appreciate it. I spend more time at the college than my house.”
“That sounds like me. Work can have a way of consuming a person’s life.”
Over the top of his car, he looked at her. “Do you enjoy your work as a doctor?” He knew a lot about her, having done some research before approaching her with his theory.
She nodded. “And you?”
“Yes.”
As he slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine, Maggie settled into her seat. He pulled out of the parking space, the silence between them comfortable, which surprised him after their tense dinner. As he negotiated the first set of curves on the mountain road, the Corvette picked up speed. He pressed his foot on the brake. Nothing. He pumped the brake again. Still nothing.
The car’s speed increased. He took the next curve too fast, slamming Maggie against her door. The passenger side scraped the guardrail—the only thing that stood in the way of them and the bottom of the mountain.
Father, I’m in Your hands,
he prayed silently.
“What’s wrong?”
He didn’t need to see the panic on Maggie’s face. He could hear it in her voice. Another curve loomed ahead. “Brace yourself. We’re in for a rough ride.”
M
aggie latched on to the door handle, her grip so tight that her hand ached. Transfixed, she watched as Zach maneuvered the car around another curve. Each time he put his foot on the brake, nothing happened. Instead, the Corvette kept going faster.
“Do you have your seat belt on?” His voice held a razor-sharp tension.
Her hand trembled as she checked to make sure. “Yes.”
“Good. I’m going to try and slow us down as much as possible. If my memory serves me right, there’s a field near the bottom that’s pretty flat, right off the side of the road. Even if we make it there, Maggie, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
She tensed. The sound of metal grinding against metal thundered in her ears. Every muscle locked into place as the rugged terrain along the side of the road jarred her. Their speed decelerated when they hit a patch of level road, but not enough. Then the asphalt descended again down the side of the mountain.
A hundred things flew through her mind—regrets, wishes. There was so much she hadn’t done yet. She didn’t have anyone who really cared if she died here at the bottom of one of the steep ravines. The loss of her grandfather deluged her all over again.
Why, Lord? What are You doing?
Maggie saw the field Zach had mentioned up ahead. She held her breath as the car barreled off the road and over the rutted ground. Even with her grip on the door handle and her other hand on the console, she was tossed about. Her knee hit the dashboard. Her head snapped back. Pain raced up her leg and down her spine as the car slowed its speed, then came to an abrupt halt in a shallow ditch, throwing Maggie forward. Her seat belt cut across her chest and stole her breath.
Maggie straightened and pried her hand loose from the handle. Her heartbeat raced, and her breath came out in pants.
Safe. Alive.
A moan pervaded the pounding in her ears, and she angled around to see if Zach was all right. Slowly he lifted his head from the steering wheel as he reached up to touch his forehead.
The growing darkness prevented her from seeing him well. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer.
She had been trained not to panic in an emergency, but in the back of her mind she realized how close they had come to dying. She wouldn’t let herself think about that now. There would be time later.
Ignoring the part of herself that would like to fall apart, she shoved her door open a few inches until the light came on. Then she turned to Zach to see how serious his injuries were. Blood trickled down his cheek as he stared at a point beyond the car.
“Zach,” she whispered, and gently touched his chin to bring his face around for her inspection.
He blinked, then finally focused his attention on her as she probed the gash above his right eye. Not too deep. She tried to maintain her professional facade, but their brush with death had left her vulnerable, stripped of her usual control. Her fingers on his forehead quivered.
“Will I live, Doc?” A huskiness edged his voice.
“Afraid so.” She dropped her hand away from him. The trembling spread to encompass her whole body. “I don’t even think this will require stitches. You should go to the hospital, though, in case you have a concussion.”
“No. I’ll be fine.” He reached back and pulled a T-shirt from a gym bag and mopped the blood from his face. “Believe me, I’ve suffered a lot worse than a bump on my forehead.”
The finality in his voice erased all arguments from Maggie’s lips. “Will you at least let me check you out—” she glanced about “—in better conditions?”
“Sure, later.” He tossed the bloodied shirt into the backseat. “But first, I’d like to get out of here.”
“Well, just in case you haven’t noticed, your car isn’t going anywhere.”
Zach withdrew his cell from his pocket and punched in a series of numbers. “Ray, Zach here. Can you pick me and a friend up? We’ve been in an accident.”
Maggie half listened as Zach gave his friend directions to where they were. Only for a few seconds had she glimpsed any vulnerability in him. He had just saved their lives with some spectacular driving, and now he was calmly taking charge, getting them a ride, calling a tow truck to pick up his car, as if brake failure were an everyday occurrence for him. Did anything get to this man? She watched him as he made his last call to the police. He was very much in control of his emotions, while she shivered from a cold that had nothing to do with the temperature.
If he ever loved someone, he would demand all of her because he didn’t invest himself easily. Whoa, where in the world had that observation come from? She was more shook up than she originally thought if she was putting Zach and love together in the same sentence.
Maggie ignored his words, but tuned in to the sound of his voice. It was rough and warm, slightly gritty, with an indisputable maleness to it that reflected the man. It was the reassuring voice of a person who was used to being in command, to making difficult decisions, possibly even involving dangerous matters. Suddenly a calmness descended on Maggie as though some of his strength had invaded her, soothing her.
“C’mon. Let’s wait near the road for Ray.” Zach tried his door, but it wouldn’t budge. He threw her a grin. “I guess I’ll use yours.”
She pushed on hers, but it didn’t move more than the few inches it was already open. “I think we’re stuck.”
“Here, let me see.” He reached across her body to shove at the door.
His clean, fresh scent overwhelmed her as he pressed against her. Her pulse reacted, racing through her as fast as they had driven down the mountain. His face, inches from hers, held her enthralled. She saw the tiny laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the gleam that glittered in the gray depths. Her throat went dry.
An eternity later, the door gave way, and he twisted around so he looked directly at her. A connection, forged from a shared near-death experience, mesmerized her, binding them together. That realization should have panicked her, but for a few minutes it didn’t. It felt right—a Somers linked with a Collier.
Zach lifted his hand and grazed a finger down her cheek. He started to say something, but a car rounded the curve. A pair of headlights illuminated the ditch in front of them, and sent Zach back to his side of the car. While the vehicle passed them on the road, he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.
She resisted the urge to touch where his finger had. But his effect on her staggered her. A Collier was a taker, not a giver. Those were words she had heard many times from Gramps. She needed to remember them.
Without a word, Maggie stood on shaky legs, clasping the door to steady herself while Zach crawled over the seat and climbed out. He, too, grasped the car, his body so near that the hairs on her arm tingled.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, needing to keep herself focused on being a doctor rather than a woman.
“I told you, I’m fine.” He released his grip. “When Ray comes, I think we should go to my place.” Before she could protest, he put his finger over her lips. “I don’t think this was an accident. That’s why I called the police. I want your car checked tomorrow before you drive it back to Santa Fe.”
Although she tried to ignore the feel of his touch against her mouth, it took her a long moment to gather her thoughts enough to say, “I can’t. I have patients to see first thing in the morning.”
Zach didn’t say anything. For the next fifteen minutes he went over the details of the accident with a police officer who had arrived and parked at the side of the road. The policeman had a few questions for Maggie, which she answered.
She held her arms close to her chest, but still the cold seeped into her bones. In the middle of the conversation, Zach walked to his trunk and withdrew a jacket. He placed it over Maggie’s shoulders, rubbing her arms up and down for a long moment. She wanted to lean back into his strength, to wipe the last hour from her mind, but the officer still had questions for them.
By the time Ray Parker pulled up, followed by the tow truck, Maggie was freezing even with the jacket on. Her teeth chattered, her body quaked. Finished with the police, Zach dealt quickly with the driver of the tow truck, then marshaled Maggie into his friend’s Ford Ranger. Zach introduced her to Ray, an associate at the college. She smiled her greeting, still too upset to say more than what was necessary.
In the front seat, Zach drew her against him, his arm about her. His warmth slowly chased the cold away the farther from the accident they went.
“What happened back there?” Ray slanted a glance at Zach.
“I’m not sure, other than the brakes failed at a crucial time.”
“You don’t think this has anything to do with Red’s death, do you?”
“Yes.”
That one word brought back all the distressing thoughts that Maggie had had over the past twenty-four hours.
Robbery. Attempted murder. Murder.
She wasn’t equipped to deal with those kinds of things. She was a healer. Caught between denial and seeking answers, she didn’t know what to do next. She needed time to think, to figure out how best to proceed.
Gramps murdered? Over the diary? Why now?
As Ray pulled up in front of what she assumed was Zach’s house, her head felt as though a jackhammer pounded against her skull. Her muscles ached, especially her neck, as if she had climbed the stairs to a fifty-story building. And the second Zach disengaged himself from her, the cold burrowed deeper into her bones. That reaction scared her. His presence was taking over her life. She didn’t give up control easily, if ever, to another human being. Even with the Lord she’d struggled with that.
“Come in, Ray. I need a favor.” Zach slipped from the cab. He offered Maggie his hand. For a long second she stared at it, almost afraid of what it would symbolize if she put hers in his. She’d always stood on her own two feet and not depended on another person, not even Gramps. She couldn’t allow herself to do it now, because the situation was complicated, possibly dangerous and definitely unusual.
Resisting his assistance, she climbed from the truck and pulled the jacket about her to ward off the cold. Zach stared at her for a moment, his arm dropping to his side.
As she trudged up the walk toward Zach’s adobe-style house, disquiet crackled in the air. Her knee throbbed where she’d hit the dashboard. Pain radiated from her neck, across her shoulders and down her back.
Inside, Zach flipped on a switch and light flooded his large, open living room, with its high ceiling. Masculine touches stamped the place, with Indian artifacts on the walls and tables. More like a museum, she thought as she surveyed the area before her. Any other time she would have appreciated his beautiful Indian art—collected from around the world, not just the United States—but at the moment the only thing she wanted to do was sleep for a week and forget what had happened.
Zach waved her toward a brown suede couch. “Sit. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Soda? Tea?”
“No, I’m afraid I’d never go to sleep if I had any caffeine.” She wasn’t even sure she could fall asleep if she didn’t have it. But she knew if she didn’t sleep soon she wouldn’t be able to function for long, let alone figure out what was going on.
“Ray, anything to drink?”
Zach’s friend shook his head.
Zach took the chair across from Maggie while Ray sat at the other end of the sofa. Silence ruled for a few minutes. Maggie laced her fingers to keep them from quivering. As a doctor, she’d dealt with emergencies before, but they had always involved others. This one she was very much in the middle of. Memories of a time when she was thirteen taunted her. She pushed away thoughts of the past. She couldn’t go there.
“You’re safe here.” A hardness entered Zach’s gaze as it found hers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“
Safe?
I’m not sure what that word means anymore.” But his declaration had for a moment alleviated what panic and fear still resided in her.
“Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?”
“I have a friend I can call. Don’t worry about me.”
I’ll do that enough for the both of us.
“She lives down the street from me.”
Zach turned his attention to Ray. “May I borrow your truck to take Maggie back to Santa Fe?”
“Sure. You can just drop me off at home. It’s on the way.”
“We were lucky tonight.” Although Zach’s comment was directed at his friend, his gaze fastened on Maggie.
Ray frowned. “This is getting serious. Have you talked to the police?”
“We did tonight, but there isn’t much to go on. We won’t know why the brakes failed until tomorrow, when a mechanic looks at them. But I don’t need a mechanic to tell me they were tampered with.” His hard tone underscored each word of his last sentence.
“You aren’t thinking of going after these guys yourself, are you?” Ray sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You have a better suggestion?”
“Yes. Let the police do their job. Stay out of it.”
“I would, but someone is after the codices, and the police don’t have the time to look for whoever it is.”
“And you do? What about the expedition you’re planning for next month when the semester is over? We have the backers coming into town in a few days. They want to meet with you. There’s still a lot we need to do. Besides, you’ve got classes to teach.”