Path of the Jaguar by Vickie Britton, Loretta Jackson Page A

dinner was over she would have to go check, make certain the money had been left undisturbed. "You could take a few flower pots and pictures from the living room," Goldie said suddenly, as if this were the most important thing in the world. "There's plenty. I'm like Delores in liking my flowers and little what-not."
    The way that Frank's wife constantly changed subjects was distracting. Her thoughts still hovering precariously somewhere between Wesley's need for privacy and the hidden money, Lennea replied absently, "There's no need to bother."
    She glanced out of the window beyond the table into the darkness, and felt a chill creep over her as she thought of that long, gloomy walk to the ruins.
    "Is everything all right, Lennea?" Goldie's curious, amber eyes were watching her with some concern. No doubt Lennea must appear to the LaTillas as preoccupied as Wesley had seemed to her. She must make an effort to pretend that nothing was wrong!
    "Everything's fine." Lennea smiled and took a bite of the spicy beef. "The food is delicious." Lennea knew that it was Mexican custom to eat late and linger over the evening meal. She was torn between wishing the meal was over and dreading its ending.
    Goldie was beaming at her now. "It's so wonderful to have you here. We just love company! I look forward all year to Delores' visits. We just go everywhere. She loves to shop. But I can't get her interested in cooking," she finished wistfully. "When I try, she just gets cross."
    Lennea could sympathize. She shared Delores' aversion for the stove.
    "Do you like to cook, Lennea?" Goldie asked hopefully. Lennea realized too late what the question was leading up to.
    A rather preoccupied "no" was forming upon her lips, when she chanced to notice Goldie's expression, anxious, almost adoring. She didn't have the heart to disappoint her. Frank's wife put her in mind of an innocent child whose fragile feelings were in constant need of protection.
    "You'll have to teach me how to cook Mexican food, Goldie," she said with a barely audible sigh.
    "My little wife's the best one for the job," Frank asserted, patting his full stomach with satisfaction. The dinner had finally come to an end.
    •
     
    After dinner, Lennea turned over to Frank the map Wesley had given her. Then she asked him to help her put a call through to Delores' mother in Santa Fe. Frank hovered by as Lennea spoke to her. The mother's voice—she had no doubt been the recipient of many such phone calls—sounded dull and uninterested. Lennea cut short her strained explanation. She replaced the receiver, saying as if she wasn't disappointed in the reaction of Delores' mother, "She wants me to call her back in a few days."
    Lennea went back to her room. When she was certain that Frank and Goldie had gone to bed, she slipped out onto the patio. Wind chimes sounded loud to her as she opened the door and stepped out into the night.
    The heat of the day had cooled down to a steamy warmth. The lush, green foliage smelled like rain, and the rich earth beneath her feet seemed damp and spongy. Squishy. The word brought to mind Dad's startled exclamation when she had first told him of her plans to go to the Yucatan. "Why, you can't go down there. There must be a million snakes in that jungle!"
    Lennea tried not to think about crawling things as she approached the first dark, narrow place on the path. She supposed that the fear of snakes was somehow hereditary. Now, thanks to Dad, she imagined them everywhere—crawling through the damp earth, dangling from the low branches of the trees overhead. Lennea increased her pace through the darkness. She was glad when she reached the first clearing.
    She lingered by the scattered stones which lay rooted in the dense, wild underbrush of the clearing, savoring a glimpse of cloudy moon and blue-black sky. Then, with reluctance, she plunged into the heart of the deepest, darkest part of the jungle trail.
    No moonlight now to guide her way. On either side of