Beverly Connor - One Grave Too Many

They crossed the bridge again and again. Searched the toolshed, broke in its door. She waited. The water was cool and seductive. She could see how easy it was for people to drown themselves. Just slip under and breathe, let the water fill your lungs and take you to a place where there’s no pain or grief. But not me.

Diane never wanted to die, even in the depths of her grief for Ariel, cursing God and man, throwing up until her ribs ached, crying until her eyes were so swollen she could hardly see. All that, but she never wanted to die. She didn’t want to die now, and she wasn’t going to. She would kill before she would die. She waited.

She knew patience. Anyone who could take weeks to excavate a mass grave of murdered innocents, map miles of unexplored caves, take eight hours to climb twenty feet up a rock face was patient. She could wait.

He, the raspy voice, knew about the missing skull. The thought had struck her as he said it, but now she had time to think about it. How did he know? It wasn’t a secret, but he had to be close to her investigation to know. Who was the secret enemy in her camp?

The cool, soothing water was feeling colder, but she didn’t think she was in danger of hypothermia. She pretended she was in a cave. She’d traversed many a water-way colder than this. There was nothing more serene and lovely than an underground lake. Cave ethics dictate that you remove your dirty clothes and stuff them in a waterproof bag to keep the pristine waters of an underground lake or stream as unpolluted as possible. She thought about how the cool cave waters felt on the skin, how she felt like an otherworldly creature slipping through the still waters of a deep, dark chamber. She pretended the piling was a stalagmite, one she could touch-another principle of caving is to not touch anything that has taken eons to form and could be destroyed by careless touching, but this one she could touch. This one was life-giving.

She’d have to do a cave exhibit at the museum. Take visitors on an underground adventure beneath the earth, give them a new view of nature. She could do that in the basement-create a cave environment. She wondered if Mike Seger, the geology student, knew anything about caves. She planned the entire project in her head as she waited and listened, trying to hold at bay the feelings of terror inside her.

No more light hounds, but can’t trust them to be predictable. They may have been crouched in the dark, waiting for her to move. She’d wait all night until her staff arrived, until the groundspeople arrived. In the meantime, she’d continue planning exhibits and try to figure out who might be doing this.

Korey thought Frank’s attacker was a racist. She didn’t think so. He just wanted to look the opposite of what he is. People would see the dreadlocks, the dark face, and think African-American; they wouldn’t think white. But where did that get her? She had already guessed that.

Better to go back to planning exhibits. She could handle concepts, but her brain was having a hard time with deduction. What she would really like to do is sleep. Perhaps it might be safe to move now, to get out of the water. She quietly moved away from the piling and scanned the distance around the pond. No lights; everything was quiet.

Something, perhaps fear, told her to stay with her plan. She felt physically unable to deviate from it. She went back to her place just as a flash of light swept through the woods. The hounds were still there.

She began planning an attack on Jonas’ chess pieces, forcing her brain to plot moves, anticipate responses. By the time the sun was beginning to show through the trees she’d planned a campaign against his black king, and designed an underground adventure exhibit for the museum. Perhaps all she needed to be able to get her museum work done was to become stranded overnight in the swan pond with murderers on shore searching for her.

When the road noise picked up and she saw the movement of the groundskeepers, she swam out from under the bridge for shore and climbed out, frightening one of the gardeners, a young Hispanic man, heading for the toolshed. She must look like the swamp creature.

“Lady, what you doing in the lake? You shouldn’t be there. You hurt?”

“What’s your name?” Her words came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Hector Torres, ma’am.”

“Hector Torres, I’m very glad to meet you. I hired you. I’m Dr. Diane Fallon, the director of this museum. I know that appears unlikely at the moment, but could you help me get out of here?”

“Hector? What’s going on?” Luiz Polaski, the head groundskeeper, was driving down the trail in a golf cart.

“This lady says she’s the director of the museum. She walked out of the lake.”

“Dr. Fallon, what happened to you? My God, sit down.”

Diane let them lead her to the golf cart.

“I was attacked.” She didn’t want to get into the details. It would take another night.

“Again?”

“Yes, again. Will you take me to the museum, please?”

“Of course.”

“Dr. Fallon, thanks for the job,” yelled Hector Torres as they drove off.

“How is he working out?”

“So far he’s found you, so I guess he’s doing pretty good. He says his mother is a women’s guard at the jail?”

“Yes. She said her son was looking for a job.”

“I know there are some interesting stories here,” he said as he drove the cart up to the rear of the museum. “Can I help you inside?”

“If you don’t mind walking with me. I’ve been in the water all night.”

“All night?”

“I know this must all sound incredible, and when I can I’ll tell you all about it.”

They walked down the hallway past the restaurant to the mammal exhibit, where she cut through to the Pleistocene room and to the lobby just as Andie, Korey and Mike Seger entered through the large double doors.

“Dr. Fallon. Oh, my God, what happened to you!” Andie came running and grabbed her around the waist just as her knees were giving way.

Diane could only imagine what she must look like, not to mention smell like. She felt like a wet cat, standing in her bare feet, dripping water onto the marble floor. The initial relief of getting out of the lake was wearing off, and now she felt herself sinking against Andie, unable to stand. Several more staff arrived and they all gathered around, some helping Andie support her, others mumbling and asking questions. She felt suffocated-and afraid.

Donald was among them. He elbowed his way through the crowd, his features tight and his face pale. “Diane? What happened?”

“You need to go to the hospital,” said Korey. “I’ll take you.”

“You need to take care of our arriving guest. Andie, you’re in charge for a while-and I need you to get me another cell phone.”

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” said Mike.

“I can drive.”

“No, you can’t,” they all said simultaneously.

“You’re right-my car’s at the hospital,” she said.

Mike picked her up. “My SUV’s just outside.”

Diane didn’t remember ever being carried by a guy. Even as a child, she didn’t remember her father picking her up. It was an odd feeling, a very vulnerable feeling.

“I’ll call the hospital and tell them you’re on the way,” Andie called after them.

Mike put her in the passenger’s side, got in and drove her to the hospital.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“I owe you.”

“For what? Not unjustly firing you?”

“No. Melissa told me something a while ago. Things seemed to be all right and I was in my usual mind-my-own-business mode, so I didn’t mention it. But now I see I should have.”

Diane had been about to drift off to sleep, but she was now wide awake. “What was it?”