One Grave Less

I just want to put gas in the truck.”
    Maria had read up on jungle predators before she came. Anacondas weren’t the most dangerous of animals, but on the other hand, it was not a good idea to provoke one. And, though they were not poisonous, they did have a mouth full of teeth that held on to their prey better than fishhooks.
    Maria freed a loop of the hose and backed off. She had an idea. She went back to the cab of the truck and got a rope that she’d discovered behind her seat. It wasn’t in good condition, but she thought it would do the job.
    She had to steel herself before she could go out again. All she could think about was those teeth latching on to her and that huge body coiling around her, squeezing the life out of her.
    “Gotta do it,” she whispered, got out and walked to the side of the truck.
    Slowly and carefully she tied one end of the rope to the hose, never taking her eyes off the snake. The snake writhed slowly and silently. Maria hurried. When she had tied the rope to the hose as tightly as she could, she climbed back in the cab with the other end of the rope and began to pull the hose free from under the snake.
    The anaconda’s writhing became more agitated.
    Damn , she thought. The only thing worse than a giant snake in the truck was a giant mad snake in the truck.
    “Okay,” she said. “We aren’t completely out of gas; we can do this in stages. Give the girl a chance to calm down.” At least she had the rope and hose.
    Maria started the truck engine and drove, watching the needle on the gas gauge. The trail was getting narrower and the jungle thicker. She was wondering if it was a mistake to have come this way. Should they have followed one of the other roads and simply abandoned the truck near a village? Just be travelers on foot?
    Still, people did use this route. The path was too wide to be only an animal path. There were ruts and old tire tracks. She kept going, but more slowly.
    There was a branch hanging low over the road ahead. She wished the anaconda would take the opportunity to climb onto it.
    She drove cautiously under the branch, the motion of the truck pushing it up and over the windshield . . . and came face-to-face with a man standing in the road pointing a gun at them.

Chapter 19
    Sleep came easily for Diane. She drifted off without the tossing and turning of the past few nights. The adoption papers meant more to her than she could have known they would. Ariel had always been her daughter in her heart. She never thought of her in any other way. To other people, especially the authorities, the papers showed that Ariel was officially her daughter. And though what they thought didn’t really matter, it somehow did. Strangely, it brought her some peace. Maybe in a few months Diane could do something she hadn’t been able to do before—give Ariel a memorial service.
    Diane and Frank made Gregory a breakfast of eggs, pancakes, sausage, and fresh fruit salad. After Frank left for Atlanta, Diane and Gregory headed for the museum.
    “What do you think is going on?” Diane asked Gregory as they pulled out of Frank’s driveway.
    “I’m not sure. I think you and David are right—it hinges on Simone. That thing she said bothers me a bit.”
    “David and I have this awful feeling that one of our group was involved in something bad.”
    “You say the objects were in some sort of woven fabric handbag soaked in a drug?” asked Gregory.
    Diane nodded. “XTR25. It’s a new variant of ecstasy, according to Neva. I expect the DEA to interview me anytime now. This is just a nightmare for the museum.”
    Gregory looked over at her and smiled. “Can’t be too pleasant for you personally, either,” he said. “We’ll sort it out. We’ll follow the clues, like always. Does David still have his talent for getting into databases?”
    “Of course,” said Diane. “It’s like a compulsion for him.”
    “Good. That may serve us well. We need to do a background check on all of the people on our team,” he said.
    Diane looked over at him, frowning.
    “I know. I share your distaste for spying on them,” Gregory said, “but I don’t see we have a choice. We’ll particularly look for movements of large amounts of money. Money itself, not simply the love of it, really is the root of all evil. Especially these days when there is so much of it to be made from doing bad things.”
    “I know that. Still . . . ,” said Diane.
    “They are our friends. I understand,” said