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Maddock and Bones spent the afternoon drinking beer and speculating about Shipman and the apparent destruction of the dungeon cave. Although the situation had grown dangerous, neither man was deterred. Not only were they eager to solve the mystery, and maybe find some treasure, they felt an obligation to their friends, old and new, to stick around and see things through. No way were they leaving while Grizzly and his team might be in danger.
It was now apparent that the network of underground passageways held the key to unlocking the mystery of the UFO ranch. Thankfully, that proved to be the main topic of conversation. His tumble down the hill, which Spenser had likened to Indiana Jones’ legendary race with a giant boulder, was largely forgotten.
“We’ll have to go back in,” Grizzly said. “There’s no other choice.”
“That presents a problem,” Spenser said. “We can get back inside the caverns easily enough. Well, not easily, but we can do it. But that place is a literal maze, and that’s not even taking into consideration the fact that it’s pitch black in there. And it’s dangerous.”
“The challenge is what makes it fun.” Bones turned to Maddock. “When do you think you’ll be back on your feet?”
“I’ll be good to go tomorrow.” Spenser rolled her eyes and Bones smirked. “I’m not saying I’ll be a hundred percent, but I’ll be up and moving.” Privately he thought he’d be lucky to be at fifty percent. Every inch of his body felt like it had been beaten with a sledgehammer. His ankle still pained him, though it supported his weight.
“As frustrating as it is, the fact that someone wanted to hide that door so badly that they blasted it shut will be a great selling point for the show,” Grizzly said.
“Someone? You mean Shipman?” Spenser asked.
No one replied. They still had no hard evidence against the man, but neither did they feel obligated to voice his presumption of innocence whenever the name came up.
“How do you plan on getting back into the passageways?” Rockwell asked. “Are you going to try and dig through?”
“Something like that,” Grizzly said.
As the day wore on, their numbers shrank. Lilith had work to do and caught a ride with Gambles. Riv had errands to run. Maddock did not miss the knowing glance she shot at Grizzly when she told him. Dakota also said his goodbyes. He claimed he had appointments in Los Angeles at the end of the week and said he needed to get home and prepare for them.
“The only business he has to attend to is buying a clean pair of jockeys,” Spenser said. “He is frightened to death. Thinks one of us is going to get killed.”
“You’re not worried?” Maddock asked.
She shrugged. “Are you planning on letting something happen to me?”
“When did that become my responsibility?” Maddock said, laughing.
“Ever since I spent a quarter of an hour plucking tiny, almost invisible needles, out of your butt.”
Bones put down his beer. “Fifteen minutes? That was a ten-minute job at most. What were you doing the rest of the time?” He propped his elbow on the table, cupped his chin, and pretended to think. “What could Maddock do twice, and very badly, in five minutes?”
Rockwell headed home around sundown. Maddock found him a friendly enough sort, but there was something about the man that made him not quite fit in. He drank a beer but didn’t seem to enjoy it. He listened to their conversations but didn’t really participate, except to ask the occasional question. Maddock wasn’t the only one who held this opinion.
“You know what that guy reminds me of?” Grizzly asked after Rockwell had driven away. “An anthropologist trying to immerse himself into a new culture.”
“He is kind of tightly wound, isn’t he?” Maddock agreed.
“The three of us have been through some stuff together.” Bones made a circular motion with his beer bottle, a gesture that took in Maddock, Grizzly, and himself. “Maybe he feels like an outsider.”
“Spenser just met us, and she didn’t act all awkward,” Maddock said.
“That’s because I’ve seen your butt,” she deadpanned.
Bones laughed and raised his bottle. “You are fitting right in.” He flitted his eyes in Maddock’s direction. It was scarcely a glance, but the pair were like brothers, and Maddock recognized it as a look of challenge.
Riv chose that moment to return, providing a welcome distraction. She moved stiffly, her jaw set, eyes hard. In her left hand she held a manila envelope pinched between her thumb and forefinger as if she despised its touch. They fell silent as she locked the door behind her and joined them in the living area.
“Read that. I’m going to make a pitcher of margaritas. And I’m not sharing.”
“That bad?” Like a man petting a stranger’s dog, Grizzly reached out with a nervous hand, picked up the envelope, and slid the contents out. Inside was a stack of papers. Grizzly riffled through it, but Maddock could tell that the top few sheets were a printout of an email chain. The others appeared to be scans of documents, articles, and photographs.
Grizzly began to read. After a few seconds he let out a gasp. “Is this legit?” he called to Riv.
“The documentation is all there,” she said over the clack of ice being poured into a blender.
“Would somebody like to clue us in?” Bones asked.
Grizzly glanced back down at the papers and gave his head a shake.
“According to this, our friend Bryce Shipman is the son of Kirk Striker.”
The walls of the slot canyon seemed to close in around her. Franzen closed her eyes, took a few breaths, and exhaled. As she forced the air out of her lungs, she squeezed her body forward.
Almost. If I could just...
She pushed harder. And then nothing. She’d pushed it too far and now she was stuck.
Panic welled up inside her. Her heart raced, her breath came in gasps. But each intake of breath was agony, forcing her rib cage to push against the cold stone that confined her.
She tried to throw her weight back. She didn’t budge. Again. Nothing.
“Got to get out.” Her words were little more than mere breath. She started to twist and thrash about until a mournful, ghostly wail froze her in her tracks. It took a moment to realize the sound came from her own lips. A sudden wave of anger burned away the fear.
What is wrong with me? This is not my first rodeo. Why am I losing it?
But she knew the answer. Maddock and Bonebrake had turned her life upside down with that necklace. Megan’s necklace. She knew to whom it belonged even if no one else in the department believed her. And ever since then, she’d been behaving recklessly. And now, here she was, wedged in a slot canyon, no partner, no way of calling for help. It was a fine predicament but freaking out was not the solution.
Up ahead, something crept out into a sliver of moonlight. It inched toward her on eight hairy legs.
A tarantula!
The venomous, desert-dwelling arachnids were nocturnal hunters, creeping out of their burrows at night in search of insects, other spiders, and even small lizards. They relied on their extreme sensitivity to vibrations to help them track their prey, and right now, this spider with a leg span the size of a dinner plate, was locked in on her. It cast a long, sinister shadow in the moonlight.
Franzen gathered her wits about her and focused. She imagined her body soft, like a sponge, pictured a force inside of her, like a black hole, drawing all her mass inward. Little by little, she let the vision envelop her. She could almost feel her body getting smaller. Her panic subsided. Now she created the mental image of an inexorable force pushing her backward. Bit by bit she allowed herself to move back until, with a painful grunt, she tore free of the narrow space. She left a bit of skin behind, too.
“Mom’s always saying I need to exfoliate,” she mumbled, gingerly touching her scraped cheek. “Well, I guess that’s a dead end.”
The tarantula was still creeping in her direction and she spared a moment to kneel and give the creature a closer inspection. She’d never understood the aversion some people had to these fascinating creatures. She found them beautiful in their own way. “You wouldn’t happen to know where that stupid cave entrance is, would you?” The spider didn’t reply.
She took out her flashlight and a topographical map and tried to determine her location. What if Maddock had misled her about the location of the entrance to the caverns? She’d run background checks on him and Bonebrake. She’d learned precious little, save that both were decorated veterans and treasure hunters. Bonebrake also dabbled in cryptozoology and conspiracy theories. If the men were searching for treasure, they could very well have sent her off in the wrong direction.
“There’s probably no man in black, either.”
Something caught her eye. A shadow, a shade darker than the night sky, crossed the corner of her vision. She reached for her revolver, but she was too slow.
Something struck her on the forehead. She saw stars and stumbled backward, tripping on a rock and falling hard to the ground. The air left her lungs in a rush, and she found herself pinned between two boulders, her weapon stuck beneath her body and the ground. She struggled to catch her breath. Pain seared her skull and her eyes watered, turning the night sky into a kaleidoscope of stars. She felt blood running down her face.
She heard the crunch of booted feet on the hard earth, coming closer.
Franzen thrashed and jerked, trying to free herself, reach her sidearm.
The footsteps came closer. Her lungs now burned for oxygen. Panic rose anew. She had to get out of here. She kicked and thrashed. Invisible bands constricted her chest.
Finally, she managed to suck in a ragged breath. With a monumental effort, she levered herself up. She could almost reach her weapon.
And then a shadow blotted out the moonlight.
She had only a moment to raise her hands in a half-hearted defense before something heavy struck her on the head and the world went black.