Hatch Page 8

  “Look around you,” he snarled. “All kinds of dead are buried here. Is this how you should be treating them?”

  She stared at him in shock; then she realized he was referring to the disturbance of the dead that happened during archaeological digs. “Can I go now?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Let me go. Please just let me take him home.”

  “I want to ask you something.” He held up his phone. “Do you know this man?”

  She stared at the image of a man. The picture was grainy. And the light too dim to see clearly. “No, I don’t. Who is it?”

  “He’s been poking around town, asking questions about you and your father.”

  Immediately hope sparked inside her. “I don’t know him.” When the photo of a second face was held up, she shook her head. “I don’t know him either. Who are they?”

  “I don’t know,” he stated, “but they’re causing trouble.”

  She nodded. “Not everybody would believe that we just got up and walked away. We didn’t arrive anywhere, so you know somebody’s bound to be looking for us.”

  “Well, these guys are definitely looking for you,” he replied, “so there’s a possibility that they might have to find you. I’ve got to think about this.” He looked over at the men beside him. “Take her back inside. This will have to wait until I figure out what to do.”

  And, with that, she was ushered back into her dark enclosed grave, and the door was slammed shut behind her. The only difference was that, this time, she was all alone in this tomb. Her father, … her poor father was being dragged out to some godforsaken place in the middle of the desert, and chances were, she would never find his remains and could never give him a proper burial. And, as horrible as that was, it apparently was the least of her problems.

  Who were the men looking for them? Were they potential rescuers or more enemies?

  As soon as Hatch and Corbin returned to their rooms, Hatch’s phone rang. Not a call, a text message. He frowned at that. “Killian apparently has something to tell us.” Hatch quickly acknowledged the message by calling him on a secure line. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “According to the scanner, a body was just found in the desert, reported as a male in his late thirties.”

  “Do we have an ID?”

  “Not yet,” he replied, “but everything fits for it to be your missing foreman.”

  “Ah, crap. I hope not. He’s got a wife and an infant son.”

  “You need to find out and fast,” Killian noted.

  “Yeah, we’re on it.” Hatch disconnected. They were on the move as Hatch spoke, heading down to the police station.

  “Do you really think they’ll give us any help?” Corbin asked his partner.

  “No, it’s not likely,” he admitted. “Actually I was thinking that we might do better at the morgue. At least there we might buy our way into seeing the body.”

  “Do we have a photo ID?” he asked.

  Hatch nodded.

  As it was, when they arrived at the morgue, the body was just being unloaded. They stood off to the side, waiting; one of the attendants frowned at them. Hatch held up the picture of the foreman and asked, “Is that him?”

  The attendant looked at it, winced, and nodded slowly. “It’s hard to confirm,” he murmured.

  “Why is that?”

  “The heat took a toll on him.”

  “Of course. Any idea on how long he’s been dead?” With the question, Hatch quietly slipped him a little bit of money.

  The cash smoothly disappeared with a practiced movement, and the med tech shook his head. “No, we don’t have that information yet. It’ll be up to the pathologist to determine that.”

  He nodded. “But you’re pretty sure it’s him?”

  “His ID was on the body. But, like I said, the heat has taken a toll. However, it looks like him, but I can’t give you proof positive.”

  “Good enough.” Hatch turned toward Corbin, only to see that he’d slipped into the shadows, probably already running checks to see if any reports had been filed. Hatch neared his partner. “He thinks it’s him,” Hatch noted, “but the body was out in the sun too long to make a positive ID at this point.”

  “Which would fit,” Corbin replied. “He’s been gone a while, I know. It’s a little scary when you think about how quickly the blazing sun eats up evidence here. Tomorrow, someone will most likely do a positive ID and then contact his widow.”

  “We’ll give her a few hours alone, before picking up Marcus’s books.” Hatch looked out toward the desert. “Do we have a location where the body was found?”

  At that, Corbin held up his hand. “I just had it tracked and should get it back any second.”

  “You ready for a midnight adventure?”

  Corbin nodded. “At least it’s a hell of a lot cooler now. Oh, good, I’ve got the location.” And, with that, they gassed up their dirt bikes, packed up extra water, donned their night goggles, then headed out to where the body was found. They expected to see a police perimeter or at least some official presence out here, but, when they arrived with the help of the GPS coordinates, nothing was here to find. They looked around in surprise.

  “I guess in their minds they don’t think any evidence is here,” Corbin suggested.

  “Or they’ve already canvassed this area and removed anything worth selling. You know there’s probably not much here to find after very long in these harsh conditions.”

  “No, that’s true.” They got off their bikes and walked around the area. They saw where vehicles had turned around and where footsteps had tramped the area with complete abandon. “It doesn’t appear that anybody cared much about forensic evidence either.”

  “The desert is pretty unforgiving. I’m guessing the standard cause of death around here is heat exhaustion and dehydration, regardless of what really happened.”

  Corbin nodded again, looking over at his friend. “Were you able to see the body?”

  Hatch shook his head. “No, and that is a concern. I would have felt better if I could have, but the med tech wasn’t alone long enough to show me.”

  “So, we might want to make another visit.”

  “Just to make sure, yes.” Hatch was kicking himself for not having checked on that first.

  “Ah, never mind,” Corbin said. “Killian just sent a photo.” He held it up, and they compared it to the one they already had of the foreman and nodded.

  “Well, that’s definitely him,” Hatch confirmed. “But how the hell did he end up out here and why?”

  They studied the area, as they searched for tracks, but found almost nothing to see. “Considering that vehicles have been all over this area, as well as far too many footprints to count,” Corbin noted, “I’m presuming they’ve already erased any evidence that may have been here.”

  “Yeah, and probably without even realizing it. Wonder who called it in?” Hatch asked.

  Corbin checked the preliminary report that Killian had sent. “Not much data in the report, yet says here that somebody saw the body from a distance.”

  “Really?” Hatch stared at him.

  “They drove closer, so they ended up calling it in.” Corbin turned, pointed to the road across the way. “It’s possible they could have seen it from over there.”

  “I wonder if he was left here on purpose.”

  “Are we presuming he was killed here?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say so. He could have been dumped here, and again the evidence won’t be easy to find.”

  “I don’t think we need any evidence,” Corbin noted. “I don’t doubt that we have any confusion over who did it. I mean, obviously we could use some names to go along with our theory, but it’ll be the same people who have taken Marcus and Millie hostage.”

  At that Hatch nodded. As they turned and looked around, Hatch looked at the hill behind him. “What are the chances he was thrown off the top of there?”

  “Well, it would sure be nice if we saw any tracks, so we cou
ld compare to what was here—before they drove and walked all over it,” Corbin snapped.

  Hatch suggested, “That drop from the hill might be a possible avenue to hide the real cause of death or it certainly could be a lot easier to kill somebody that way.”

  “If he fell on that solid pile of rocks”—Corbin pointed—“coming down from that height, … he wouldn’t have survived anyway.”

  Noting a spot where it looked like some of the cliff had been bashed away, Hatch said, “Look. … I think he may have hit there and come tumbling down.”

  “Let’s go up top and take a look.”

  And, with that, they hopped onto their bikes, and, taking as wide a detour as needed, they made their way up to the top of the cliff. As he shut off the engine, Hatch lifted his chin. “Look. The road is over there.”

  At that, Corbin nodded. “Making it easy to access this hill. So quite possibly they just carried him to this point, then pitched him over.”

  “Alive or dead, do you think?”

  “My bet is on dead,” Corbin noted. “That fall alone could make it look accidental.”

  “Of course it could also look like he may have just flung himself over, and they could make a good case for suicide, worried over his finances, yada, yada, especially if nobody had found the body for a long enough time. No way to prove that it was anything other than that.”

  Corbin sighed. “Yep.”

  “Hell, the killers probably made the call themselves,” Hatch noted in disgust.

  “That would be my take as well,” Corbin murmured. “Whoever is involved in this nightmare has no intention of letting anybody walk away.”

  “No, and that just makes me worry even more about Millie and her father.”

  “Do you think they would kill Millie?”

  “I think they’re probably using her to make her father behave, but the problem is, what happens if and when her father refuses to cooperate? Would they take her out, or will they just focus on him?”

  “What if the father isn’t even around to cooperate? According to his file, he’s got quite a heart condition.”

  “Really?” Hatch asked.

  “Yeah, how did he keep up with the work?”

  “Seems like that was the only thing he had.”

  There wasn’t really any way to argue with that. “Understood.”

  Hatch turned and looked around, pointing off to the side. “Looks like some marks over there.” They walked closer and took a look. “More tracks.” He studied the area around him. It was just dark enough that it was hard to see, yet not dark enough that it would hide their own tracks. “Interesting lighting here in the desert at night.”

  “You feel that?” Corbin asked quietly. “I’m definitely getting the sense that we’re being watched.”

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised. Whoever brought the body over is probably checking to see if anybody is still here.”

  “Yet we came up above the cliff. Do you think the police did?”

  “I’m not sure they would have bothered,” Hatch admitted. “Yet they could come back at another time and do an investigation. Although we also know how quickly everything disappears in the desert, whether by Mother Nature or by the greed of mankind.” He knew firsthand that it happened faster than anybody would ever believe. As he studied the layout, he added, “I suspect, if we make a move in that direction, we’ll end up with company.”

  “Good,” Corbin said, “let’s go then.” And, with that, they casually trudged along, as if looking for tracks again. “Nobody will mistake us for cops,” Corbin stated suddenly.

  “Doesn’t matter if they do or if they don’t,” Hatch murmured. “We still need to find out what happened to this guy. And yet, at the same time, these guys could lead us back to wherever the American prisoners are.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping. If we let them make a move, maybe we’ll get something we can follow,” Corbin noted in a low voice. “The fact that they’re even here and that they’re still watching us just means that people are still very interested in this location.”

  “Which shouldn’t come as any surprise,” Hatch murmured. “If you dropped a body, … you would want to know when it got picked up, right?”

  “Well, if I was stupid enough to drop a body out here,” Corbin added, “I sure as hell wouldn’t hang around to see if anybody was looking for evidence. You have to trust in your instincts at some point in time.”

  “Yeah, that’s you and me,” Hatch replied, with a derisive snort. “Not whoever’s here.”

  “Well, I suggest we let them know that we’re open for having a discussion.”

  Hatch shrugged. “The only discussion they’ll want to have involves bullets.”

  “That would be way too noisy up here, what with how the sounds at night travel here. I suspect we’re probably looking at a hand-to-hand fight. And I say, bring it on.” Corbin’s voice was soft but deadly serious.

  At that, Hatch nodded, then raised his voice and called out, “Do you want to come down and talk to us, or are you planning on hiding, while you figure out what we’re doing here? If you want to ask us questions, we’ll be happy to talk.”

  Dead silence followed.

  Hatch looked over at Corbin. “Your turn.”

  He looked at Hatch, then smiled, raised his voice and yelled, “Or we’ll just come after you, assuming that you’re the ones who killed this man.”

  Now came scrambling sounds in the sand nearby, and, out of the growing darkness, a bike jumped to life and took off.

  Hatch and Corbin immediately raced to their bikes and followed after him.

  Chapter 6

  Millie woke up the next morning, emotionally exhausted and heartsore. Her throat was so dry that she could hardly even breathe. She desperately needed to go to the bathroom, and she needed water. But, with nobody waking her, it felt suspiciously late, especially compared to the schedule the guards had been on previously.

  And, with that thought, came the return of her worst fear. The thought that she would be left alone in here to die slowly and painfully from thirst, which had terrified her from the beginning of this kidnapping ordeal. She tried to get it out of her mind, but, once embedded, it was really hard to shake free. She didn’t know what these guys wanted, but, with her father dead, no way she could even begin to provide them any semblance of what they were after.

  She hoped it was all just lies, but the fact that her father was dead now meant she had no way to corroborate or to disprove the uttered words. And she desperately wanted to, and yet, at the same time, what was she supposed to say? Her father ran his business like a maverick. It was slipshod in some ways, but definitely not when it came to the forensic end of it, in terms of looking after the artifacts.

  He cared about those. Now, if he cared about them because he was selling them on the private market or because he really wanted to preserve the history, she didn’t know. It may well break her heart to find that out, but no doubt her father was not the same person he had been when her mother was alive.

  But why would he go down this pathway? Why would he do anything to ruin his reputation when that reputation was all he had left? Stumped—and with absolutely no idea how to get the answers that she needed now that he was dead and gone—she waited in the eerie darkness for somebody to come. She wanted to scream and holler at the door, but, to preserve her parched throat, it was best for her to sit and to stay quiet.

  Ultimately she could do really nothing but wait and hope that somebody would take pity on her and let her out. Finally, after what felt like another hour of dozing and sitting here, realizing her bladder situation was rather desperate, she got up, went to the door, and beat on it with her fists. When no answer came, in frustration, she reached for the door handle and pulled. And damned if the thing didn’t open under her hands.

  Swearing softly to herself, she pulled it open and stepped out. Judging by the faint light in the hallway, it was still night, probably a couple hours before dawn.
The instinct to bolt was strong, but her need to go to the bathroom was even stronger. She quickly stepped out into the night, squatted, hating again that she had no toilet paper or anything, but she would make do because obviously any rescue of her wasn’t an option at this point. She just needed to escape as quickly as she could.

  Stumbling forward, she raced down the hill, hoping nobody was watching her. Out here, if somebody decided to shoot her, she could do absolutely nothing about it. Hell, even the thought of getting away free and clear wasn’t much of an option at this point either.

  She had no idea where she was, no idea if anybody was even out here looking for her or if she would have enough luck to stumble across somebody outside at this hour of the night or the wee morning maybe. She had no phone and no way to contact anybody. All she could do was resolutely put one foot in front of the other and keep going, hoping that she would find something.

  After another ten minutes of slipping and sliding her way down the steep embankment, she heard a noise in the distance. Something like a bike. She stopped, trying to hear it again, torn between two minds, wondering whether she should call out for help, even though it could end up landing her with her kidnappers again.

  Realizing she didn’t have a whole lot of choice if she wanted to survive, she waited until what appeared to be the sound of the bike slowing down and then coming to a stop, and she yelled for help. She yelled over and over again, until she had to stop because her throat was too dry to keep it up.

  She kept walking, feeling so tired—more than that really, … utterly exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Just as she was about to give up, she heard a sound that brought tears to her eyes. It sounded like somebody shouting for her by name. She hollered as loud as she could, but her throat was so parched that her hoarse voice cracked.

  She sagged to her knees, hoping that her efforts had been enough. But, when she heard nothing, tears formed in her eyes, and she started to scream again and again. Suddenly she was picked up in somebody’s arms. Immediately she fought hard, assuming it was her kidnappers. She was screaming, although it was more of a raspy shout than anything.