Forbidden Ground (11 page)

Jace nodded and sighed. He rocked a bit on his swivel chair, which creaked. He was about six years younger than Grant, so they hadn’t really crossed paths in school or on local sports teams. Like Gabe, Jace had gone away to serve in the military.

Frowning, ticking things off on his fingers, Jace told them what was happening. “I’ve reached out to sheriffs in surrounding counties to find out if any other huge, designer-wood-type trees have been pirated. I know you covered tristate lumber mills. And I gave a heads-up to the highway patrol to keep an eye out for anyone moving a tree—or huge logs—on the interstates. It’s a no-go so far on all that.”

“But then, with our hills and hollows around here, it could be hidden in our area,” Grant said.

“Hills and hollows instead of hills and hollers—sometimes, you all talk like an outsider, Grant.”

Kate spoke up. “As someone born here who feels like an outsider, Deputy Miller, I’ve been impressed to see how Grant seems to get along with those from this area
and
outside.”

“Yeah, true,” he said, shifting his weight in his chair so hard it groaned this time. “Anyhow, about Paul’s death. The coroner is releasing his body to his wife today. I don’t know how she’s going to pay for his burial.”

“I do,” Grant said, touched that Kate had seemed protective of him. “My staff at the mill is collecting funds, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“That’s right good of you,” Jace said, looking a bit sheepish. “As for cause of death, the coroner had to rule accidental. Maybe Paul went a little nuts, messed up his own place—who knows, looking for something—then in his rage or frustration, accidentally pulled that turntable and tree trunk over on himself. Or it was just a freak accident. No way we can judge him suicidal since Nadine says no. Until I hear from BCI that there were prints or DNA of someone else—other than himself, his wife and you two—in there, I have no choice but to close the case. And I appreciate you both giving DNA cheek swabs to help with that.”

Grant nodded, but he hoped Jace wasn’t in over his head with all this, when Gabe had been gone only two days. He still had the gut feeling Paul could have been murdered and that didn’t make mourning his loss any easier.

“We also came to tell you that we found evidence that someone—we think Bright Star Monson—has been not exactly defacing but tampering with two local Adena mounds,” Kate said. Grant watched as she took the dish towel from her big purse and unwrapped it on Jace’s desk.

“Looks like some kind of old sheriff’s badge,” he said, getting up and leaning across his pile of papers to look at it closely. “But it’s not what Gabe or I use these days. What’s that stuff on the tips?”

“We think it’s blood,” Kate said. “But we’d like you to go with us—or with me, since I found them and study the mounds—to the Hear Ye compound and ask Bright Star point-blank if they are his. It’s illegal to tamper with the mounds in any way without permission, but if he admits it, and it has something to do with his warped view of religion, I’d be tempted to let it go—if he swears he’ll stay away from the mounds and from me.”

“He bothered you up close and personal?”

She looked at Grant. “This is going to sound strange, but someone did,” she said. “Let me explain as best I can. I’ve been thinking that since Brice Monson made a big deal of telling me he had access to the internet and knows I’m an Adena specialist—and I threw that in his face—he might have researched the Adena and be the one who harassed me.”

“Explain it to me, then. But I got to warn you about him. The guy is just plain weird, and I wouldn’t put much stock in anything he says. He always twists things around—the Bible, too—to suit himself. After all, his initials are B.S., and that’s what I think he talks most of the time—but I’m sure not gonna tell him I said so.”

11

K
ate’s goal was to figure out where the original entrance to the burial vault must have been on the slanted, growth-covered circumference of Mason Mound. Some entrances aligned with the sunrise, but she and Carson thought most were positioned facing rivers or streams. As far as she could tell, there was no water nearby. But she had not promised Grant she wouldn’t look for streams or ponds on her own.

After they’d explained to Jace Miller what had happened in the garage, Grant had gone to work and Kate back to his house. She tried to throw off the strange feeling that she actually belonged here. She could picture herself sending Grant off to the mill, fixing him lunch, waiting for him to come back while she studied or wrote—or excavated the mound. Surely it was the proximity to it, not to this house or the man himself, that beckoned to her.

“You are crazy, Kathryn Anne Lockwood!” she scolded herself as she headed back into her bedroom to get her purse. “You just get out of here before you make his favorite pie or scrub the kitchen floor!”

She locked up with the key Grant had given her and drove to Tess’s house. After checking that all was normal inside, she went back out. She saw no sign of a scrape or bump on the garage door that could have been made by a deer bumping it so that the lock fell into place on its own. She walked slowly, glancing around, giving the building a wide berth as she went out behind it. The idea of someone watching her, knowing when she left the house to enter the garage, gave her the chills.

Nothing behind the garage. Normal. In the daylight, no footprints or hoof prints.

She sighed and shook her head, scanning the vast, young cornfield with its neat rows of green spears stabbing through the ground. Glancing out about a third of the way into the field, she gasped.

Two does and a buck were grazing on grass or wildflowers. The buck had a good rack of antlers. She pictured the ancient Celtic Beastmaster artifact called the Gundestrup Cauldron she’d seen in Denmark. She shuddered at the memory of the close-up photo she’d bought of the demonic-looking beast with its blank, staring eyes and huge horns. She hadn’t shown a picture of its dreadful face to Grant. She wasn’t sure she would. Every time she looked at it, even simply printed on paper, she sensed some sort of curse or threat.

Her legs went weak, and she leaned against the garage to steady herself, bumping the sore spot on the back of her head. All three deer looked up and stared at her across the distance. She could feel their eyes on her, could sense their thoughts.
Danger! Intruder!
That was exactly what one of her colleagues in England said he imagined the ghosts of the dead whispered each time he entered an ancient grave site.

Could she have seen that buck’s head outside the window last night and then imagined—hallucinated—the Beastmaster? Was she letting her obsessions and desires get to her? She’d been so certain, but maybe she was seeing more than stars. Was being near Mason Mound—or Grant—scrambling her logic, her brain?

She stared; the deer stared, then bolted away, bounding out of sight, far beyond to the shade of a tall, distant tree.

Still on wobbly legs, Kate hurried to her car, got in, locked the doors and just sat there, breathing hard. She supposed she’d have to tell Grant about the deer. At this distance, safe inside her car, she studied the garage and the large tree she could see beside it as if it stuck out from the roof. Tess had told her that Grant’s friend Todd had actually climbed that tree—scaled it, Tess had said, like someone who challenged tall mountains. No doubt, from those heights he could look over this whole area, even hunt from there, like some local men used to shoot deer from platforms hidden in the foliage of the nearby hills.

She shuddered at her scrambled thoughts. But the worst of them was that, not only in her dreams but in her waking moments, her desires were luring her to Grant and Mason Mound.

* * *

Grant was in a big hurry. He hated to leave the mill off schedule, but Todd was overseeing everyone, including Brad, so he had to take this time to recheck that his Adena mask was still untouched when no one else was in the house. He didn’t bother to lock his car door but did lock himself into the house. It was silent as—yeah, as a tomb.

He hustled downstairs. This was Tuesday, and Paul’s funeral was scheduled for Thursday morning, so he’d put up a notice that the mill would be closed for a half day so staff could attend. He wondered if Nadine would keep her house. Probably not, as isolated as it was. And when she sold it, if she didn’t know about Paul’s valuable eagle pendant and it was hidden in the house, would the next owner stumble on it?

As boys that day in the death chamber of the tomb, when Todd had dared to joke that Indiana Jones had nothing on them, they hadn’t thought about what would happen if one of them died. Maybe they should have told each other where they’d hidden their artifacts, but of course, they thought then they were going to live forever. If he could help Nadine relocate, maybe he could search the house for the pendant—if it was in their house. If he were Paul, he’d have hidden it within one of those tree-trunk carvings, one he’d never sell but keep for his own. He could ask Nadine if one was special to Paul, pay a big price for it as if it were only a keepsake from his friend.

As Grant hurried past the washing machine, he saw a pile of Brad’s dirty clothes. Of course, he’d been down here. He’d even played pool by himself the other night after he came back from wherever he spent the late hours uptown. Grant didn’t think he’d hooked up with a woman but was much too hooked up with booze. He should check to see if any of his bottles left over from the party for Gabe and Tess had disappeared.

He clicked on the light, got on his back on the floor and felt under the furnace for the metal box with the key.
Not there!
Feeling around some more, he finally found it. He’d been in such a hurry the other day, he’d evidently put it back slightly off position, that was all.

He thought he heard a noise upstairs and froze, listening. If Kate came back—he’d texted her and she’d said she wouldn’t be back before noon—what would he tell her? He swore sometimes that woman could read his mind, which was bad news. But no, the house was just creaking in the wind.

He slid the hutch out of the way and lifted the oak panels. He pulled the cement blocks out with the old ice hook then slid the box out. So far everything looked fine. It was just that Kate had been so certain that she’d seen not a stag head but the Beastmaster mask. And with Brad here in the house, though he’d never told him where he’d put his relic, he had to know this hadn’t been disturbed.

Disturbed...
like he and his friends had done to that elaborate, ritual burial chamber.... Disturbed, like the way Kate got to him when he should keep her away.

He opened the box and exhaled in relief. Yes, it was here, obviously untouched. And yet, had he put the tissue paper back this way, neatly tucked in instead of crumpled? He couldn’t recall.

The ancient, eyeless mask stared up at him as if to say,
No answers here. I keep my secrets. But never betray me.

Grant closed the box fast and slid it back in, then fumbled in his shirt pocket to take out Kate’s business card. He leaned it against the box. She’d given it to him because her cell number was on it. He had that memorized, her website and Facebook page, too. But if anything happened to him, and this was ever found—he did have an explanation of it with his will—maybe she’d at least have a chance to see it, study it.

Then, too, if her card was moved, he’d know someone had found the box.

* * *

Still sitting in her car in the driveway of Tess’s house, Kate was just getting ready to phone Carson to let him know she was temporarily living right next to the Mason Mound, when a black van pulled in behind her, blocking her in. She punched off Carson’s number after two rings. She’d just put Grant on speed dial this morning and was going to call him if this van meant trouble. Her usual poise and pluck had taken a beating since she’d found those stars and seen that deer head. Bright Star and Grace had come here in a black vehicle the day they’d told her and Tess that the wedding was pagan, so could it be them?

A woman got out of the van. It was Nadine Kettering. Oh, and wasn’t that Grant’s ex with her, driving the van? Kate put her cell phone in her purse and got out of her car.

“Nadine,” she said, walking toward them. They exchanged light hugs. “I heard the funeral service is Thursday. I haven’t really had a chance to tell you how sorry I am. Paul was a great talent, and I’m sure a wonderful man.”

“I appreciate that. I’m glad you got to meet him at Grant’s, even if briefly. Yes, he was a wonderful man—temperamental at times. But aren’t great artists that way, maybe all men, truth be told? Kate, this is an old friend of mine who’s in town for a while, Lacey—Lacey Fencer—ah, she took her maiden name back. I guess you know who she is—was.”

Kate and Lacey assessed each other. No handshake. Two wimpy nods and fake smiles, Kate thought. “I saw Lacey and her friends at the mill the other day.”

“Well, yes,” Lacey said. “I’m very dedicated to my cause.”

“Aren’t we all? Would you two like to come in? As you can see by the sign out front, Tess’s house is still for sale. I was just getting ready to leave, but you’re both welcome.”

“If I can sell our place for a hunting lodge, and if the price is right, I would like to look at the house, but too much to do now,” Nadine said. “We were just driving past, and I saw your car. I was wondering if you would still like to buy one of Paul’s carvings before I give a few to relatives or put them up for sale. Grant said he’d be sure that your sister’s wedding gift gets to their new place. Also, Lacey and her group are going to buy one with elves peeking out from behind all kinds of carved leaves for their Green Tree office in Cleveland.”

“Honoring the carved trunk as a beautiful work of art, I’m sure,” Kate said, “and not using it as an example of tree destruction.”

Lacey looked furious. “Well—if we buy it, it’s ours!” she insisted.

Nadine turned to Lacey. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? I couldn’t bear to have his work used in a negative way.”

Lacey rounded on Kate, sending a waft of what must be clove cologne at her. “I suppose you think you’re clever with comments like that! I hear you and Grant are a real item, and you’ve moved in with him!”

Kate knew better than to try to explain. “Word always did travel fast around here,” she said. “Let me guess. You’ve been talking to Brad.”

“So, do you read minds?” Lacey demanded. “Brad and I are still friends, even if I divorced Grant. You’re welcome to him.”

Kate turned a shoulder to the woman, wishing she could turn her back. “Nadine, I’m grateful you would still welcome my original offer to buy one of Paul’s works. I think they are amazing. And since he won’t be able to do a special order for me now, I would very much like to buy the trunk with the Adena figure on it.”

“Oh. The one that—that fell on him. Deputy Miller has it now, but yes—I don’t want to see it again, and I can understand why you’d want that one.”

“I would like to offer you a good price for it, even though I realize he didn’t finish it. After the funeral, perhaps we can talk, and I’ll see if Deputy Miller is going to hold it for long.”

“Well, fine,” Nadine agreed with tears in her eyes. “So, will you be studying Mason Mound?”

“I hope so.”

Lacey, who had been stewing, piped up. “But you’d rather be studying Grant close-up and personal, I bet. He’s moody—just fair warning. And he’s real touchy about that mound, like that old hill is some family relic.”

“I can certainly understand why he sees it that way. The Mason family legacy means a lot to him. He’s probably even more protective of it since someone sneaked in to butcher his beautiful tree. It must have been someone who knew the woods, knew the tree and how much it meant to him, and that makes it even harder.”

“Green Tree—and I—detest people who cut down trees for profit, which is why we protest at lumber mills. You—you don’t mean I would ever harm that tree just because I know the area or divorced him?” Lacey propped her hands on her hips. The woman was well built and had a pretty face she was hiding under makeup and a bushel of blond hair, but her voice and attitude curled Kate’s toes. Grant had said Lacey had changed since their dating days, and that must have been the understatement of the decade.

Kate put her arm around Nadine’s shoulders, because the woman had started to cry and was dabbing at her nose with a tissue. “I’m sure no one from Green Tree would harm a tree,” Kate said, her voice quiet compared to Lacey’s strident tones. “There would be no motive for anyone in your group to want to hurt Grant that much. That is, unless someone held a personal grudge or wanted to get back at him for owning a lumber mill, even though he’s very pro-environment. I guess it could be someone who wanted revenge for him wanting to stay in this lovely town instead of taking off for another life, maybe in a great metropolis, like Cleveland.”

Lacey gasped. “I get it. You’re good with words, like some lady lawyer. But maybe this
lovely
town will do you in like it did me, if you hang around here long enough!” She sashayed away—in stilettos, no less—back to Nadine’s van, got in and slammed the door.

“Sorry about that,” Nadine said. “She may come off like a bimbo at times, but she’s not—really.”

“No, it’s my fault. I’ve got a sharp tongue.”

“And a sharp brain. I admire that. Look, Kate, I didn’t mean to cry over this. I thought I’d gotten hold of myself. I hope Lacey won’t blame you if I don’t sell her that tree trunk now. I should have thought of that—Green Tree’s misusing it as an example of what she sometimes calls ‘slash and cut.’ I think Grant and Todd have always been good about that, harvesting carefully, replanting and all. I think organizations like Green Tree are good, but they go over the line sometimes, deface property, threaten and scare people. Paul called them ‘greeniacs.’”

As they stepped apart, Kate gave the woman’s shoulder a squeeze. “Tess will be back in about ten days, but if you want to see the house before that, just call me. Here—my business card, and please don’t share it with Lacey. I’d rather not have my office on campus or any of the mounds around here picketed by
greeniacs.
”