strong urge to go back to the doctor’s office and confront Maggie’s attacker. He pried his hands from the steering wheel and flexed them.
“Can you get away and bring it to us? We’re at the bank on the corner.” She paused. “Good. Come only if you think it’s okay.”
When Maggie flipped the cell closed, Zach twisted around and faced her. “She’s coming to the bank? Why?”
“We have a security system that tapes different views of the offices. She said he was on the one for the reception area.”
“What happened to the system last night? Was the break-in recorded?”
“The police took the tape, which had two men in black ski masks. Not much to go on, I’m afraid. But if I can show them this tape and file a charge against him for breaking and entering my house last night, maybe they can find out who he is.”
“Maybe.” He pushed his door open. “Let’s get the diary and get out of here.”
Ten minutes later, with the diary secured in its case, Zach and Maggie left the safety-deposit-box vault. Carol saw them and hurried across the lobby toward them.
The next day Maggie stepped out of Evelyn’s house, the screen door banging closed behind her. She welcomed the heat after the strain of the past few hours, working side by side with Zach, trying to decipher a diary written hundreds of years ago by Father Santiago in both Spanish and Latin. Thankfully Zach had a gift for languages.
Before, when her grandfather had read her some of the passages, she had loved the flowery, poetic verses. Now she wished the monk had just come right out and said, “Hey, everyone, this is where the codices are hidden.” And for that matter, why wasn’t there a big, fat X on the map to indicate exactly where the treasure was concealed? Weren’t all treasure maps supposed to be like that?
A tribal-police car came down the dirt road toward her and went around to the back of the house. She would finally get to meet Hawke Lonechief, Zach’s cousin, Evelyn’s son. His presence reassured her.
Tension throbbed in her temples, striking against them as though an Indian’s drum were beating in her head. She placed her coffee mug on the railing and massaged her forehead, but nothing relieved the dull ache. Her eyes slid closed, and she tried to blank her mind of all thoughts, especially ones connected with the codices. She couldn’t. Her life—Zach’s—depended on them finding the Aztec books before anyone else found them, if they still existed.
At the bank the day before she’d half expected the man after her to be waiting in the safety-deposit-box vault. Only half expected? Who was she kidding? The way things had been going she had fully expected the man to be there.
Despite the heat, Maggie trembled. Cradling her drink in her palms, she took several sips and studied the landscape before her. A large mesa toward the horizon dominated the vista. Its rocks glittered reddish gold in the late morning sun reflecting off their surface. The lush greenery, which indicated a stream, snaked across the flat land that jutted up against the mesa.
The sound of the screen door creaking open drew her attention. With a glance over her shoulder, she noted Zach’s frustrated appearance. She gave him a smile that vanished almost instantly because it required an effort to maintain, and all energy had dissipated two hours into studying the map and journal.
He came up behind her. “Under normal circumstances, I would find trying to solve the mystery of the codices interesting, even exciting.”
“But not when a death warrant hangs over our heads?”
“Right. That kinda kills the mood.” Automatically, his hands, as if accustomed to massaging her all the time, rested on her shoulders and kneaded the tightness beneath them.
She wanted to melt back against him and surrender to the wonderful feelings flowing through her. But the screech of a bird pulled her away from the soothing sensations that for a moment eased her stress.
“Can you get away and bring it to us? We’re at the bank on the corner.” She paused. “Good. Come only if you think it’s okay.”
When Maggie flipped the cell closed, Zach twisted around and faced her. “She’s coming to the bank? Why?”
“We have a security system that tapes different views of the offices. She said he was on the one for the reception area.”
“What happened to the system last night? Was the break-in recorded?”
“The police took the tape, which had two men in black ski masks. Not much to go on, I’m afraid. But if I can show them this tape and file a charge against him for breaking and entering my house last night, maybe they can find out who he is.”
“Maybe.” He pushed his door open. “Let’s get the diary and get out of here.”
Ten minutes later, with the diary secured in its case, Zach and Maggie left the safety-deposit-box vault. Carol saw them and hurried across the lobby toward them.
The next day Maggie stepped out of Evelyn’s house, the screen door banging closed behind her. She welcomed the heat after the strain of the past few hours, working side by side with Zach, trying to decipher a diary written hundreds of years ago by Father Santiago in both Spanish and Latin. Thankfully Zach had a gift for languages.
Before, when her grandfather had read her some of the passages, she had loved the flowery, poetic verses. Now she wished the monk had just come right out and said, “Hey, everyone, this is where the codices are hidden.” And for that matter, why wasn’t there a big, fat X on the map to indicate exactly where the treasure was concealed? Weren’t all treasure maps supposed to be like that?
A tribal-police car came down the dirt road toward her and went around to the back of the house. She would finally get to meet Hawke Lonechief, Zach’s cousin, Evelyn’s son. His presence reassured her.
Tension throbbed in her temples, striking against them as though an Indian’s drum were beating in her head. She placed her coffee mug on the railing and massaged her forehead, but nothing relieved the dull ache. Her eyes slid closed, and she tried to blank her mind of all thoughts, especially ones connected with the codices. She couldn’t. Her life—Zach’s—depended on them finding the Aztec books before anyone else found them, if they still existed.
At the bank the day before she’d half expected the man after her to be waiting in the safety-deposit-box vault. Only half expected? Who was she kidding? The way things had been going she had fully expected the man to be there.
Despite the heat, Maggie trembled. Cradling her drink in her palms, she took several sips and studied the landscape before her. A large mesa toward the horizon dominated the vista. Its rocks glittered reddish gold in the late morning sun reflecting off their surface. The lush greenery, which indicated a stream, snaked across the flat land that jutted up against the mesa.
The sound of the screen door creaking open drew her attention. With a glance over her shoulder, she noted Zach’s frustrated appearance. She gave him a smile that vanished almost instantly because it required an effort to maintain, and all energy had dissipated two hours into studying the map and journal.
He came up behind her. “Under normal circumstances, I would find trying to solve the mystery of the codices interesting, even exciting.”
“But not when a death warrant hangs over our heads?”
“Right. That kinda kills the mood.” Automatically, his hands, as if accustomed to massaging her all the time, rested on her shoulders and kneaded the tightness beneath them.
She wanted to melt back against him and surrender to the wonderful feelings flowing through her. But the screech of a bird pulled her away from the soothing sensations that for a moment eased her stress.
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