Thunder in the Night (Crimson Romance) (13 page)

The line inched forward and I noticed a wooden sign indicating the path to a zipline feature. Hammered into a tree on my right, the sign pointed up a hill and into the trees. Looking ahead, I saw the line for inner tubes was still moving slowly. Slowly enough for me to follow a hunch?

Just as we were staying in the same hotel as the last zoo trek had, so were we visiting the same activity center today. Was this where Tommy Mendoza had gotten fatally tangled in his zipline harness? Would an employee talk to me about it?

A long shot, to think there might be someone who remembered the event. But how could you ever forget it?

Stepping away from my fellow trekkers, I went in search of the zipline.

I could see the double cable strung through the trees once I’d gotten away from the main entrance. The excited shrieks and cries of the riders had been audible from the moment we’d left the SUVs.

I approached a middle-aged man in a bright yellow t-shirt bearing the company logo and asked a question or two about the zipline. He was busy, readying riders with an efficiency that made it obvious he wasn’t new to the task.
So he might have been around last year
, I thought.

He handed a safety helmet to the next customer in line for a bit of high-speed adventure. As he watched her fasten it under her chin, I asked in a low voice, “Did you hear about the man who was killed here last year?”

The employee glanced over his shoulder at me while he finished checking the fit of the customer’s harness. She hadn’t heard my question, I’d made sure of that.

“Okay,” he told the eager-looking teenager, “take three running steps and then you go!”

We watched her brief sprint, heard her exclamation as she took flight, suspended on the cables. Finally, he glanced at me, shaking his head.

“We are not allowed to talk about that, miss,” he said, and I got the clear impression the discussion had ended.

“Were you working here when it happened?” I pressed.

Looking over his shoulder, he shrugged my question away, again shaking his head.

“Please, miss,” he said. “All I can tell you is a man was killed. I don’t know who shot him.”

“Shot him? I thought he got killed on the zipline.”

“No, no. The zipline is quite safe. Someone shot that man.” He put his index finger to his temple in the universal gesture for gun. “Will you be taking a ride?” He pointed at an empty harness, ready for another adventurer.

Feeling stunned by his news, I backed away, holding up a hand. “Some other time. Thanks.”

Turning, I headed back down the trail, reeling. Mart had been right. Tommy Mendoza’s accident hadn’t been an accident, at all. It had been murder.

I stumbled over a tree root and had to run a few steps, wheeling my arms to keep my balance.

Yesterday, I’d been angry at Mart, but just then all I wanted was to find him, pull him aside, and tell him what I’d just learned.

A quick sprint brought me back to headquarters, where no other trekkers were in sight. I stripped down to my swimming suit, stowed my bag in one of the lockers against the wall and was issued an inner tube and a headlamp like a miner’s. Rushing out of the building, I slung the inner tube across my body like a beauty queen’s sash. Pulling on my headlamp, I saw Clark heading back toward the lodge.

“Shake a leg, Miss Belsar,” he said, his eyes roving over me, stem to stern.

“Which way?” I asked, hands out in question. There were signs all over the place directing to one path or another. I could have taken the time to read them, but why?

Clark pointed off to the right. “Just there,” he said. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

There’d been a light rain the night before, making the ground dark and damp now. The clouds gathering overhead spelled more rain to come, if I were any judge. I just hoped it held off until we were indoors again.

It’s awkward, walking with an inner tube. Especially big ones like this which insisted on bumping into my leg with every step. I took the trail Clark had pointed to and was instantly surrounded by the familiar green of the jungle. The path ahead of me was empty and I couldn’t hear anything like the usual chatter of conversation our group made. How had they gotten so far ahead of me so fast?

I broke into a trot but had to stop when I came to a fork in the road. Which way? Left? Right? No useful signs were pounded into trees here. And Clark had only said, what? “Just there.” That was no help now.

Turning around, I checked the path behind me. Clark had said he’d be right along. Shouldn’t I be able to see him? Grinding my teeth together, I stomped on, taking the branch to the left. I hadn’t gone far when I was faced with another fork, another decision.

I had just decided to turn around and go back to the lodge when I heard sounds of someone coming up behind me on an ATV. At last! It must be Clark, planning a grand entrance, and I must be on the right trail. Arm wrapped around my inner tube, I waited for him to appear. Maybe I could hitch a ride with him.

But the person who motored into view wasn’t Clark. Wasn’t anyone I even should have recognized. And yet I did, in that instinctive, pit of the stomach sort of way. It was the man I’d seen with Clark at Tikal, the one who may or may not have pushed me down the stairs and broken into my room.

From the way he narrowed his eyes when he saw me I knew I didn’t have to wonder anymore if my fall down the temple steps was deliberate. Oh, yeah. It so was.

I took a step backward, off the path, trying to act calm. Maybe he would just pass me on the trail and disappear up ahead.

But, no. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, he spat out the stub of cigarette he’d been smoking and ground it firmly under one heel. The smell of it, cloves, filled the air. Revving the engine on the ATV he aimed it in my direction.

I took a few rapid backward steps, pulling my inner tube in front of me. Not much of an airbag, it would be no protection against being hit by the four-wheeler. Another unfortunate accident, people would call it.

“Back off!” I shouted. Then added, “Help! Help!” in case Clark was in earshot. “Fire!” That was supposed to make people come more quickly, I’d read a long time ago, never imagining I’d ever need to use the idea.

In answer, the man gunned the engine, inching forward, straight at me. He never spoke a word, making him even creepier, scarier. Deadlier. That last thought was enough for me.

I spun around and took off. My water shoes pounded down the damp earth path and the inner tube bumped against my thigh. I should have abandoned the thing, I realized immediately. Now it would take too long to slip it over my head and down my arm to toss aside. Way too much concentrating required there.

My breath puffed out heavy but shallow and I could hear him just keeping pace there behind me. He didn’t need to make me run. I was already doing that myself. Pushing branches out of my way with one hand, I shoved at the stupid light strapped to my forehead as it began to slip, then yanked it off altogether.

The paths forked this way and that and I chose at random whichever way looked less traveled. Maybe he’d get mired in some mud or the undergrowth would be too thick for the vehicle to get through.

But, no. And no, again.

I heard him laugh once, just before he stepped on the gas and twisted the handlebars, spurting close enough to send dirt flying against my legs.

“Help! Fire! Help!” I tried once more, but my shout lacked confidence even to my own ears.

Then, abruptly, I didn’t hear the engine so close at hand. Had he given up, having put a good scare into me? I slowed from a run to jog to a stop around another curve in the path. My chest heaved as I gulped the air.

This was worse. I could hear the ATV idling just out of sight. Was the man still on it, or was he on foot now, in silent pursuit?

Ahead on the path, there seemed to be a break in the trees. The sun was brighter there and I could hear — yes, I could hear voices. Many voices. And laughter.

With one last deep intake of breath, I sprinted forward, toward the light and the laughter. I’d gone perhaps fifty feet, no more, when the roar of the engine coming full bore filled the air all around me. I didn’t need to look back to know he was tearing up the trail with me in his sights. The game he’d been playing was over apparently, and it was time to get serious.

Inner tube over my shoulder, headlamp in my hand, I ran as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my anklebones.

I burst out of the dense jungle growth and into a tiny open space — twenty feet above the river.

Chapter Sixteen

I might have stopped running when faced with that cliff and the water below me but the ATV also shot from the jungle cover. Wheels churned up earth as the man braked. He spun wildly sideways toward where I teetered at the top of the cliff.

I had only enough time to look out and down, to see the source of that laughter — our tour group floating peacefully down the river — before I was off and over the edge. The headlamp flew from my hand as I gripped the inner tube and pinched my eyes shut.

Then came the shock of cool water against my skin and I was safe. Safe and away and alive. I shook the water off of my face and looked around at the startled faces of my fellow travelers. When I glanced up at the cliff, I saw dirt settling to earth. My tormentor had vanished.

“Woo-hoo!” Jen hollered, applauding. “I give that dive a ten!”

“Yeah, like those cliff divers we saw in Mexico,” Patty added.

“Except they didn’t have inner tubes!” Kiran said.

“And they were, like, graceful,” Faith commented, in a teasing tone.

Of course they had no idea what had just happened. Or very nearly happened. And they were in jolly holiday mode.

Mart paddled toward me. He wasn’t smiling or laughing or cheering me on.

“Are you all right? What happened? Where were you?” he asked, helping me adjust my rubber ring. “You’re shaking.” He chafed his hands up and down my arms and looked directly into my eyes.

“I’m okay,” I assured us both. “It’s okay. We need to talk.” The panic in my voice made my breath come in short gasps, but they hitched up when I saw Clark go drifting innocently past us.

“That was a spectacular dive, Miss Belsar,” he called over. “I did wonder if you were going to catch up with the group. But I had no idea it would be in such dramatic fashion. Bravo!” He put two fingers to his forehead in salute.

Mart looked a question at me again, but I realized now was hardly the place or the time.

“Please don’t let me out of your sight today,” I begged Mart. “Promise.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Promise!”

We intertwined our fingers and kept them that way as the river current swept us along.

I couldn’t hear what our guide was saying about our surroundings and could not possibly have cared less. There was still a rushing in my ears, in my brain, it seemed, preventing coherent thoughts.

Mart didn’t press me for explanations but I did see him look from me to Clark and back again. I gave him a shaky smile and squeezed his hand. Eventually my heart rate slowed to something close to normal. I took a few long breaths to steady myself, to lessen the quaking in my veins.

As our inner tubes drifted into the mouth of the first cave and the sunlight dimmed, my excitement from fear was replaced by a different sort of excitement.

We had entered a small cave. I could see sunlight at the other end and I was glad. My headlamp was at the bottom of the river, so Mart’s light would have to be mine, too.

There was plenty of oohing and aahing at the beauty of the craggy, cavernous space. And Dan had to yell to see if there would be an echo.

So it went, down the river, into caves big and small. In one spot we had to portage our tubes. In another we went through rapids. The physical activity made my mental static recede into the background — at least momentarily — and my tension drained away.

Even as our guide told us about the ancient relics and equally ancient bones found within the caves, I was calm. Ancient people didn’t worry me. It was someone very much alive who actively disliked me. Someone here and now who was out to get me. Ancient, no problem. Contemporary, big problem.

Mart tugged me closer, bumping his tube into mine.

“We get out now,” he said, having listened to the guide, “and get to explore a while.”

“Cool. But is that safe?”

“They wouldn’t let us do it if it weren’t,” he assured me.

We pulled up toward the walls of the cave, where sand-colored rock made a flat landing surface.

Mart hopped nimbly out of his inner tube and I did the same. Our entire group was really geared up, with spirits high and energy levels about the same. I saw the career girls scrambling up rock outcroppings as if they’d been born to it.

“The rock climbing wall on their last cruise ship?” Mart guessed when I wondered where they’d learned their method.

Dan and Elaine were taking it easier, sticking to a path with Alan and Maria. They’d become chummy over the length of the tour, I realized now. I never saw either couple with Clark and Sylvia for very long. In fact, I rarely saw Clark and Sylvia as a couple.

It was a surprise then to see them now in the dim half light of the cave, with Professor Ramsey. Sylvia, a few feet in front of Clark, seemed particularly stiff in the spine.

I gave Mart a poke with my elbow, tipping my head in their direction. “What gives?” I asked.

He squinted then shrugged. “Don’t know. Clark looks angry.”

I looked again, trying to read the body language he had seen. Our zoo director did give a very intense impression, leaning forward with formidable jaw jutting toward the equally tall figure of the professor.

Ramsey made a gesture with both hands, as if shaking water from them, and broke his gaze from Clark’s. They had to be whispering because voices definitely carried in the hollow chamber.

“Maybe Clark is — ” I began, speculating aloud.

“Who cares about Clark?” Mart interrupted. “I want to know what happened to you earlier. How did you get so far from the group? And why did you end up making that jump off the cliff?”