Forbidden Ground (Cold Creek #2)(27)
“The same charlatan who’s entranced the Lockwood cousins you mentioned?” he asked, carefully turning one star over with the tip of his penlight.
“The same. Maybe he thinks by putting these bright stars on the mounds he’s symbolizing that his beliefs are above those he calls ‘pagan dead.’”
“And the blood? It is the Christian symbol of salvation.”
“Carson, like I told Grant, he’s not Christian. He’s a weirdo master controller, not that he couldn’t be using blood as some sort of sign or message. Who knows how he keeps his people in line? I swear, my cousin Grace is actually afraid of him.”
“Really? I’ll have some of my grad student assistants circumspectly check some of the other mounds in the area for more of these. And if we can prove this guy is the one defacing the mounds, we can have him arrested and fined. He could do jail time, though what his flock would consider persecution probably wouldn’t free them from his control.”
“I swear,” she said, sinking into the other chair, “he’s cast an evil spell over his followers, like in some gruesome fairy tale. He’s an ogre masquerading as a shepherd—the wolf in Grandma’s clothes from Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Then he’s a formidable adversary, so beware. He can’t be an idiot to do all this, especially mind control.” Carson looked up from studying the second star. He clicked his penlight off and replaced it in his inner pocket. “Maybe he’s read up on the Adena, their cult of death, and thinks he can somehow use that to either keep his people in line or scare others off, so he ties the mound to himself—tries to exert control with his namesake symbol above it.”
She sighed. Carson was brilliant, though sometimes she thought he was just restating something she’d come up with. Hadn’t she just, more or less, said that? “Tess told me he buried a couple of dead infants on his property, but he had permission for that.”
He sat up even straighter. “In a mound?”
“Little mounds, I guess, hidden under plastic.”
“Stranger things have happened. But all this aside for now, I’m thrilled to see you. No offense, but let’s get out of here for a while, as the surroundings in this old place are a bit Spartan. How about heading into the big city of Cold Creek to that pseudo-English pub I passed? I can’t wait to tell you about some of the scholars I met in D.C. and how my thesis was received.”
“Sounds great. Let me rewrap these stars. You know, I’m wondering if this could be human blood—even Bright Star’s. And I do realize it’s not a done deal that he’s the one who left these.”
“Actually, I did spot one tiny hint these stars were originally made to be worn—like a badge.”
“Really? I thought of that at first, but dismissed it. Like a sheriff’s badge?”
He whipped his penlight out again and trained the beam on the back of one star. “Look here. It’s smoothly done, but see those two tiny irregular spots where a pin could have been attached on the back so it could be worn? But I think it’s been soldered over. And the metal quality looks quite good—not like it’s a kid’s cowboy sheriff badge, though I suppose that’s another possibility.”
“I do see it. I should have used a magnifying glass, but I don’t have one here. Under a microscope, maybe something else would show up that’s been obscured, like a made-in mark or production number.”
“How about I take one and have it checked for that and learn from a lab at the university whether it’s human or animal blood? Actually, I’d like to talk to this Bright Star Monson.”
“All right, take one of them and let me know what the lab says. But, Carson, don’t confront Bright Star, at least not alone. I’m planning to take the acting sheriff if I go to see him. Speaking of blood, Bright Star chills mine!”
As she rose to get a clean dish towel to wrap a star for him, Carson stood and embraced her. “We make a good team, even when apart,” he told her, not smiling, so serious. His lips moved against her ear. “My darling Kate, let’s continue to work together, however close you get to Grant Mason for the cause, right?”
“Of course,” she said, stepping back, then moving away to wrap the stars separately. “But he is a good man, Carson, so I won’t lie to him or hurt him.”
“And I’m not a good man, struggling to advance knowledge for more than just us? Human, universal knowledge is bigger than just a few small people, Kate. Sometimes the ends do justify the means. Without Howard Carter plundering Tutankhamen’s grave or Heinrich Schliemann excavating ancient Troy, mankind would know so much less about the past, even about ourselves. Surely, I convinced you of all that several years ago, at least in the single undergrad course you took from me.”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s because of that class and your passion for it that I chose archaeology.” It hit her for the first time that, in a way, Carson Cantrell and Bright Star Monson had some things in common. Both were eloquent, charismatic evangelists for their causes, which they fervently believed in. Both were quick with a quote. No way did she want to blindly do Carson’s bidding the way someone like Grace toed the line for Bright Star. And it scared her that both men seemed hell-bent on getting what they wanted, whatever the cost or sacrifice.