Buried Secrets by Margaret Daley Page B

She stepped to the side and turned toward him.
    “I’m glad I called Carol this morning to check and see if that man came back again. If anything…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. The idea of another person she cared about getting hurt stole her voice.
    Zach took her hands and commanded her attention with his unrelenting expression. “I’m glad he didn’t. Is everything okay with your patients? No problems?”
    “None. Dr. Masterson owes me. I’ve covered for him when he has gone on vacation these past few years.”
    “That sounds like you haven’t gone on one.”
    “Not since I opened my practice. I took a long weekend with Gramps right after I finished my residency.” Now she wished it had been a real vacation. She hadn’t spent nearly enough time with Gramps since medical school. Regret mingled with her weariness.
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Three years.”
    “You’re kidding. With the high-pressured job you have, I’m surprised something didn’t give.”
    “My sanity? No, I think this adventure will take care of that.”
    Zach leaned against the porch railing. “I agree with you and with what your grandfather thought about the references to the earth’s secret, its treasure. The place has to be a cave of some sort—but then that was the most likely possibility anyway since the codices have remained hidden for all these years.”
    “And the Southwest is riddled with a lot of cave systems.” Memories she wanted to forget inundated her—gasping for air, fear that immobilized her, dust choking her, helplessness. She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to rid her mind of the images parading across it. But she couldn’t. A vision of holding her father as he inhaled his last breath, his legs pinned beneath tons of rock, swamped her with sadness.
    “Are you all right?”
    When she looked into Zach’s concerned expression, she almost told him about her father dying in a cave-in that had left them trapped for twenty-four hours. But that had been such a painful time that she hadn’t even talked with Gramps about it. “I’m okay. Sorry, I was just thinking about all those caves.” The dark. The silence. The trapped feeling.
    “It will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
    She needed to concentrate on the here and now. “First we must locate the right haystack.”
    “Father Santiago had hoped to convert the Indians to Christianity with kindness and tolerance. According to the records our grandfathers unearthed, he must have traveled all over what is now New Mexico, Arizona and parts of Texas, spreading the word of Christ. So we know two things. The area we have to look in and what to look for. We have made progress.”
    “But not quickly enough.” Pain continued to pulsate against her temples. She pressed her fingers into the flesh above her eyes. Her mind felt like mush. Not enough sleep. Too much thinking. Too much running for their lives.
    “Here, let me see what I can do.”
    His fingertips replaced hers, the contact electric. Suddenly she was no longer thinking about her headache. Her senses homed in on the feel of his hands on her face, rubbing soothing circles into her temples. She peered up and knew instantly that doing so was a mistake. The smoky glitter in his eyes held her captive. The rest of the world fell away, and all that mattered was Zach and her. The warm spring day wrapped them in a protective cocoon, as though nothing could touch them.
    A discreet cough behind Zach parted them.
    He spun around to face his cousin. “Hawke. I didn’t hear you approach.”
    Dressed in tan pants and a matching shirt with the tribal-police patch on his sleeve, Hawke grinned, two dimples appearing in his cheeks. “And I made it a point to make some noise.”
    Zach covered the distance between them and shook his cousin’s hand. “I’m glad to see you. I heard you pull around back. What took you so long?”
    “I had to feed the animals. I’d hoped to get home yesterday