“Same here.” Angélica wiped the sweat trailing down her face. She wondered if Daisy remembered anything from the last fewminutes. “You ready to go eat?”
Daisy nodded, blinking slowly. “I’m famished. María has this camp smelling like barbecued chicken and … what is that spice? It’s peppery with a hint of nutmeg.”
“Wow, you have a good sniffer. It’s achiote paste.” She tugged Daisy along toward where Raul waited at the edge of the firelight. “Let’s go enjoy somepollo pibiland see what my father wants.”
Halfway to the mess tent, Angélica glanced back toward the fire, her heart weighing heavy in her chest. She missed her mom, along with her guidance and wisdom about the ancient Maya world. But what had her mom meant when she said they weren’t alone here? Did she mean the field camp or Site 5? Or both?
And if Marianne hadn’t been the one talking to Quint through Daisy the other day, then who in the hell had been?
More important, were they friend or foe?
Chapter Sixteen
Something is wrong with Angélica.
She’s withdrawn and not talking.
Well, she’s talking, but only to boss people around.
No smiles. No laughter. 100% boss lady in action.
And last night at supper, she was silent unless prompted.
Plus, she barely ate any of María’spollo pibil.
Hell, even if I were two days’ deep into a stomach flu, I’d still eat a plateful of that achiote chicken. It’s sooo good.
I just drooled on the page.
No, wait, that’s sweat.
After we’d finished eating supper, I pulled her aside and asked if she needed to talk about what was on her mind. She said she was just mulling about things at the site. Nothing else.
Then she turned down my offer for a romantic stroll around the camp under the almost full moon, which I wasn’t too upset about because it was fucking hot, andthe monkeys were more agitated than usual. I’d swear they were having a competition for who could howl the loudest.
She did let me walk her to the communications tent—ten steps away. Then she kissed me good night and zipped herself away from the world to study the maps and the artifacts we’d discovered so far.
This morning, her cot was empty when I sweated awake.
She didn’t show up for breakfast, either—huevos encamisados, which is eggs tucked into homemade corn tortillas and fried, then covered in a red salsa with leftover chicken from last night. All sprinkled with cheese. Oh, and fresh sweet papaya on the side.
Damn. That time I did drool on the page.
I’d marry María if she wasn’t already taken. I don’t care that she’s my mom’s age, that woman can cook!
Anyway, Angélica left a message with Teodoro that she’d meet us outside the site’s wall.
I asked Juan if he thought she was okay. He shrugged off my concern and between forkfuls of heaven said that Angélica disappears into her work during every dig, skipping sleep and getting bossier by the day.
I remember how she was at the dig when we first met, but this feels different. And sudden.
She’d been smiling on our way back to camp last night and then snap! She’d flipped from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde.
Maybe she is more upset about us opening that door slab without her than she let on.
Is she hiding something troubling that she saw on the stone rubbings Esteban and she had worked on earlier? Or just doubly frustrated that she can’t decipher them?
Is she growing more obsessed with trying to figure out the history of this site?
