Maya Mound Mayhem (A Logan Dickerson Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Abby L. Vandiver Read Free Book Online Page A

to get elected I have to show I won’t try to
extinguish any part of it.”
    “Yes. History is
important to me, too,” I said. “Correct history.”
    He chuckled. “Is
any of the history we know correct?”
    I scrunched up my
nose and tilted my head. I opened my mouth to speak, but he started up again.
    “If Georgia
citizens think I can’t run this place with our gloried past in mind, they won’t
think I can run the state. You understand what I mean?”
    “Of course,” I
said.
    But really I
hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant.

 
    Chapter
Thirteen
     
    “Who was that?”
Miss Vivee said when I went into the trailer.
    “The man in charge
around here.”
    “You should have
introduced me,” she said.
    “You’re kidding,
right?” I asked.
     She walked over
to the window. “Of course I’m not kidding. You want me to solve this thing I
have to ask questions.”
    “I don’t want you
to solve it, Miss Vivee. Remember? I told you that.”
    “He hasn’t left
yet,” she said letting her eyes drift from the window to me and then the door.
    I readied myself
because if she tried to head for that door to go out and talk to Direct
McHutchinson, I was going to pounce on top of her and hold her down.
    She turned back
and looked out of the window. “He’s leaving now. Darn,” she said. “What did you
say his name was?”
    “I didn’t say,” I
said. “And I’m not telling you, either.” I didn’t think she could “Gaggle” him
on the “World Wide Web” as she and Mac would say when explaining how to use the
Internet, but I wasn’t taking any chances she’d look him up and call him.
    “Who is that woman
walking with that Indian,” she said. I walked over to the window and Mac
followed me. We peered out and I saw Riley coming from the ruins into the
camper area. She was tanned and her dark brown hair with its sun bleached
streaks, was pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed in khaki shorts and a
white sleeveless T-shirt and had a trowel and a sifting screen in her hands. She
looked like she’d been working, which we hadn’t been given the okay to do, and
there was a young man walking with her.
    She was always
calling me on my authority. And with McHutchinson saying he needed me to win his
election and with Armsgoode around, talking about he should have been in
charge, I couldn’t afford any trouble from her. I couldn’t understand why she
was always so disagreeable.
    Riley Sinclair
came from a family with money. She had a masters in geology and was very good
at what she did. I hadn’t handpicked her, she, like the rest of my crew, had
been chosen for me, but when I saw credentials, I was happy to have her.
    She didn’t seem to
be so happy to be with me, though.
    “Who is that?”
Miss Vivee asked again. “That Indian over there.”
    “Native American,”
I corrected.
    “Looks like an
Indian to me,” she said.
    I took in a
breath. “I don’t know but I’ll have to ask him to leave. Riley knows there are
no visitors allowed at the ruins.”
    “Who is Riley,”
she asked.
    “Riley Sinclair,”
I said to her. “The geologist.”
    Everyone knew that
no visitors were allowed on the site. It had been practically drilled into our
heads and the agency had made us memorize the rules about visitors at the site.
    It had been made
it perfectly clear, not only me being the leader of the dig, but to everyone
that the Track Rock Gap stone landscape site was not closed to people
who came to see it. But, and they emphasized that “but,” the Forest Service didn’t
encourage visitation. They felt that it would best protect the sensitive
and fragile site. Even enacted legislation under the Archaeological Resources
Act that pointed to certain areas within the forest that were exempt from
public disclosure to protect cultural resources.
    That’s why the History
Channel had been denied access.
    Riley and her
visitor was definitely coming out of restricted areas.
    “I don’t know why
Riley