Raiders of the Lost Heart(73)

Moments later, Corrie popped up from the water wearing a black tank top. “Here,” she said, tossing Ford a pair of sopping-wet boxers.

“Seriously?”

“Hey, I’m not about to embark on what might be the biggest Aztec discovery in a hundred years while naked and staring at each other’s genitals.”

Fair point.

“Did you see anyone out there?” he asked as he pulled on the boxers underneath the water.

She shook her head and flicked on the flashlight. “No, they must have moved on.” She shined the light around the cave, taking in every inch of the damp space. “Come on.”

They carefully made their way up the slippery rocks, a task made even more treacherous without shoes. If this was the place, it was going to be a bitch to work in. But they took their time, inching along the stone toward the narrow slit in the surface. Corrie reached her arm in to shine the light inside and sucked in a breath.

“What? What is it?” Ford asked, unable to see around her.

Corrie turned back toward Ford, her face full of relief and something else . . . What was it?

Disappointment? Loss?

Sorrow?

“We found him,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “Ford . . . we found him. All of them.”

“All of them?”

She nodded. “There are three bodies in there . . . two adults and a child.”

A . . . child? Wait . . .

“It has to be them. Chimalli, Yaretzi, and their child. I mean, what are the chances that they could be anyone else?”

“Let me see,” he said, inching closer and taking the flashlight.

With his outstretched arm, he leaned into the crevice, illuminating the tight space. And there . . . on the ground were the remains of three bodies, clearly two adults and a child, like Corrie had described.

But if this was Chimalli and his family, that meant they hadn’t made their way to a local village to live out their days like Corrie had predicted.

Meaning Corrie wasn’t a descendant of Chimalli after all.

Chapter

Seventeen

She’d dreamed of this moment hundreds of times since she’d read her first Hannah Hollis book. Finding Chimalli. Confirming her ancestry. Being someone. Hannah Hollis and her archaeological adventures had given Corrie something to aspire to. And once her grandfather had told her that they were descendants of an Aztec warrior, she’d become obsessed. Obsessed with being the person to find this fabled warrior who no man had been able to find. Her discovery would prove to all those girls from junior high school that she’d amounted to more than a bimbo. Prove to everyone who’d underestimated her that she was a triple threat—beauty, brawn, and brains.

In terms of archaeological digs, their discovery was the equivalent of hitting the jackpot. Three bodies. Drawings on the cave walls that told the story of who they were and how they’d come to rest in that cave. And even what appeared to be the hilt of a knife, adorned with turquoise and a shell mosaic, poking out from beneath the dirt. It was Chimalli, no doubt about it.

There was so much to take in that their hour or so in the cave only scratched the surface, and half that time was spent merely working out the logistics. They’d know more once they returned with better lighting and tools—and definitely some clothes and shoes—but waterproof gear was a must. And the space wasn’t big enough for more than a few people, so they’d have to plan accordingly. But they had found everything they’d hoped to find and then some. Corrie was right—it was the greatest Aztec discovery in a hundred years.

So why, now that they’d found Chimalli, didn’t she feel like she’d accomplished her goal? Why did it feel like a failure?

At least she wasn’t naked when it had happened.

At least Corrie garnered some relief finally having found Chimalli. At least now she could get on with her life, once this dig wrapped up, without it hanging over her head anymore. What that life looked like, however, was anyone’s guess.

The walk to camp was relatively quiet. The day had started out so perfectly, but then Ford had to go mess it up with his prodding questions and talking about their relationship.

Sigh. She couldn’t be mad at him for wanting to talk about where they were going with this whole thing. It’s not like she could avoid the topic and hope that on the last day they could go their separate ways without ever having to mention the future.

Or admitting to the fact that she’d grown feelings for him and didn’t want them to go their separate ways.

No, Ford hadn’t ruined the day. Chimalli had. Or, rather, based on what she’d gathered from the drawings on the cave wall, whatever affliction had overcome Yaretzi and their child had ruined the day. Hopefully she’d learn more with better lighting. So many people had told her that there was no way she was a descendant of an Aztec warrior. As it turned out, despite all her protests, they’d been right. Leaving her a gullible fool.

With her grandfather gone, she’d never get a chance to confront him. Thankfully, her father wasn’t one for I told you sos. He’d never believed her grandpa, anyway. And though she’d surely get a ribbing or two from her brother, eventually everyone would forget about her obsession with finding her ancestor.

Hopefully.

But her disappointment couldn’t be masked. She’d almost cried when she’d first seen the bones, and not from happiness. Ford must have sensed it, too—as excited as he should have been for their discovery, his subdued reaction told her that he understood her disappointment. They went from smiling, laughing, and making love to analytical, emotionless diagnostics.