The Dawn Stealer

By Joseph DiMari

A take-off novel from the author's first work, Relentless, The Dawn Stealer finds paleontologist Laura Crisler doing field work near the abandoned town of Coleman, Arizona. An epic discovery entangles her in an international web of danger and a search in which she must succeed no matter the cost. Aided by Sheriff Jim Langdon, Laura finds herself the avowed enemy of an unscrupulous colleague and his psychotic partner, who align themselves with the underworld of crime to exploit her discovery and eliminate her and Langdon in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph DiMari
• Release date: Nov 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301586974

Joseph DiMari

As a special education teacher, vocational evaluator, and later as a GED instructor, the author gained years of practical writing experience. Between careers, he fulfilled a long-held dream of many who have a love of reading and books, by opening a used bookstore in Omaha, Nebraska. Retired now from the formal job, he still occasionally produces works of fiction and non-fiction, as he has for most of his life...but fishes regularly.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The two small single-engine planes flew low to the ocean's dark surface, so low that the wild spray cast off from the big waves reached hungrily for the fragile undercarriages. The planes flew in formation, one about fifty feet in front of the other and a plane's length to the left.

The storm-tossed night offered both protection and danger. Detection would be difficult, which grew steadily more important as they neared Florida's coast. Yet these small heavily-laden aircraft could easily fall victim to the Gulf's fury at any moment.

Finally the waves disappeared beneath them, replaced by land only dimly discernable. The lead plane gained altitude, anticipating the tall cypress trees, which lay ahead, the trailing aircraft following suit. This foolhardy ballet with death would be insanity to most pilots, but the stakes made it worth the risk, at least in the minds of the two fliers.

And then the lead plane seemed to stutter, its engine, which had droned for hours, coughed, smoke began to pour from its cowling, and the propeller which had faithfully pulled the craft through its long journey, almost reluctantly came to a halt.

The pilot of the trailing plane shouted in both rage and terror as the lead plane descended, slowly, painfully giving itself over to the darkness below. He banked left in time to see the stricken craft torn apart like a fragile toy as it struck the marshy earth soundlessly from his vantage point.

He circled the crash site expecting a fuel explosion, but none came. Circling a second time, only indistinct pieces of what used to be an aircraft appeared below. The danger of detection along with low fuel brought the pilot back to focus. Leveling his plane, he sighed heavily, curses hissing from his clenched teeth. He continued on his route, helpless, knowing his friend was dead, knowing also, that the risks of the game sometimes claimed a would-be player.

But the danger was now only beginning, as a new fear caused the pilot to stiffen, his hands grasping the wheel so tightly that the skin stretched to its painful limit.

After all, the crash was unforeseen, an occupational hazard. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. It wasn't his fault. These things happened. Yes, he could rationalize it to himself. It made perfect sense. He could explain it, smooth things over.

And yet why, on this of all flights. The sweat began to bead on his forehead. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and sighed heavily, hopelessly.

Shit, I'm dead.

Chapter 1

The morning sun had not yet reached the floor of the small canyon, and the birds were beginning their ageless song, which echoed from the layered walls. The only unnatural sound was the crunch, crunch of boot against dry rock as the paleontologist made her way along the lonely canyon.

Laura Crisler stopped, wiped her forehead, leaned against a large rock and unlaced her boot, pulled it off with a grimace and removed the troublesome stone within.

She gazed at the offending stone with raised eyebrows and a sigh. Well Laura, so far this is the find of the week. Observe the fine quality of this rare fossil, which surely will put you on the front page of the Hooterville Gazette, no less. Surely. She smiled, then idly tossed the stone and pulled on her boot.

On sabbatical from her teaching position at Colorado State University, Laura had spent the better part of a week alone in this desolate area of southern Arizona, and despite not yet finding anything of much interest in the way of fossilized remains, she was at least away from the confines of the daily teaching routine and into what she loved most - the freedom of the outdoors, the elation of discovery.

Beaten paths had always bored her, which is why she had decided to come to this place, where few, if any other paleontologists had explored. Most of the big finds were in Utah, Colorado, and Montana, but she had always preferred to go her own way. Besides, she had studied the geological survey maps of the area and felt it held potential.

About eight miles northeast of her lay the notorious town of Coleman, or what remained of it. Long ago abandoned, Coleman had a history of greed and tragedy matched by few other places. She had studied the area's past largely through newspaper clippings at the library in Sierra Vista - the tremendous silver strike, Coleman's explosive growth, and its tragic demise. And the strange killings, which had taken place there decades ago, along with the more recent deaths not far from where she now stood. About two miles away a large canyon owned by an elderly man had been transformed from peaceful landscape, to a chasm of death. Eight people killed in all. The newspapers called it Kalinski Canyon after its owner. So much death in such a small and isolated area.

A slight chill passed through her body, Laura, what are you doing here? But she knew the answer. Being a scientist first, she had put her fears aside. The geological maps strongly indicated the possibility of rich fossil beds dating to the cretaceous era, which ended approximately 100 million years ago. The cretaceous was the final and probably the greatest era of the dinosaur, which of course included Elvis, as she jokingly referred to Tyrannosaurus Rex, the king of them all. One of her foremost ambitions was to find a complete tyrannosaurus, not for the glory, but for the sheer joy of discovering such a magnificent creature.

Laura believed that to many people fossils were dead things in stuffy museums, interesting to look at and maybe wonder about with respect to how they looked or sounded, or how powerful they were, and then to walk on to the next exhibit.

To others, the monetary value of the find took precedence over all else. There were many stories of ethical improprieties, destructive rivalries, and outright theft. Why, recently the nearly intact remains of one Rex were fought over in litigation lasting several years. Later, that same specimen sold at auction for eight million dollars. Fossil remains were now big business with high cash rewards, and the temptation to place money above science, for some, was too great.

To the serious paleontologist, though, the remains filled in pieces of the earth's history. Of the history of all living creatures including humans.

While sometimes yielding fact, the fossils also led to much speculation. For example, the very color of most prehistoric creatures is unknown. Another recent, yet hotly debated topic concerned nesting behavior, and whether certain dinosaurs cared for their young. And, of course, the big question; why did they die out? Many scientists held that a giant meteor struck the earth causing such radical disturbances in the weather that the dinosaur could not adapt. Others felt that natural evolution was the main factor - that birds are the modern day version of the terrible lizards.

Such matters fascinated Laura, but she supposed her parents had handed down their interest.

Henry and Nancy Crisler had been an archeological team for two decades. Laura, an only child, had come along during the most active part of the couple's life together. She had traveled around the world with her parents, and it was from them that she had grown to love the exploration, the thrill of discovery, and the solving of a long-time mystery, along with the tremendously detailed and tedious work that accounted for the bulk of the time spent in the field. All had become a part of her.

Cancer had claimed her father when she was sixteen. Her mother was never the same after his death. And then, the Alzheimer's diagnosis had come five years ago. At sixty-four, Nancy Crisler now lived in a nursing home. The dreaded moment had come for Laura six months ago, when her mother had looked into her eyes, and asked, Who are you?

Even though she still visited her mother regularly, Laura now felt a sense of being alone in the world. And though she thought of herself as a self-sufficient woman, the hurtful feeling of being abandoned by her parents sometimes rose to the surface and stung no less painfully with time's passage. She knew this was a childish reaction - her parents had loved her deeply, had placed her before anything else in the world. And yet, she could not come to terms with the stark reality of the loss.

At 33 she had never married, too busy with her work in her twenties, and now too hurt to let anyone she could love ever leave her again. So it was simple: don't fall in love and you won't be hurt.

You got it babe, she found herself saying, as a tear dropped onto the back of her hand. She quickly wiped it away. Break's over, girl, let's get to it.

She shouldered her pack and continued walking deeper into the small canyon, which had narrowed to about six feet across. A pebble falling from the left wall attracted her attention. Must have been loose, and her passing caused it to fall.

Her eyes focused on a small outcropping of sandstone. Where the outcropping met the wall, she noticed the fossilized remains of what appeared to be a small plant. Only part of the fossil was exposed, the remainder probably extending into the wall. She would try to carefully remove the shelf by chipping around it.

Laura began working with the small pickaxe, until the shelf started to loosen. Patience was the key. One more light tap and…

A large portion of the wall began collapsing outward. Laura dove to her left in time to avoid the dusty cascade of rock and debris.

She coughed, shook the dust from her hair, and wiped her eyes. Squinting at the rubble, she noticed that an opening in the wall of about four square feet had been exposed. Laura waited until the dust settled and she was reasonably certain that the wall was sound, before she finally stood and approached the opening.

Cool fresh air poured from the dark interior, which surprised her. Usually freshly exposed caverns were musty smelling and dank. She pulled the penlight from its belt holder and shone the light into the opening, seeing a gently sloping bank of sandstone with darkness beyond.

"What the hell, I think we ought to go for it.

You've got a bag full of nuts for brains, girl. This whole wall could collapse with you inside there. And there's no one around to bail you out. Forget it."

Laura had picked up her father's trait of not only talking to himself when alone, but answering as well. She remembered her mother playfully scolding him about it and saying to Laura, Well, now that Henry and Mr. Crisler have settled the argument, maybe we can join the conversation too.

She climbed over the rubble to the other side and had to clear rocks and sand away to locate her pack, from which she pulled a fifty-foot length of light but very strong rope, along with two cleats used in mountain climbing. She also grabbed the large flashlight.

Returning to the site, she pounded the two cleats into the hard canyon floor, then tied the rope to both cleats. Double protection.

She fastened a rock about the size of her fist to the other end of the rope. Squatting at the opening, she aimed the flashlight at the sandstone ledge inside and lowered the rock along the ledge. She continued paying out the rope until the rock was at the end of the ledge. Then she let go of the rope and listened.

Rock clattered against rock, before a surprising sound reached her…a splash. More interesting by the moment. I've got to see this.

Turning her head to one side she sighed, Your funeral.

Laura clipped the big flashlight onto her belt, turned on the small flashlight, and held it in her mouth. .ere goe nothin.

She faced away from the opening placing one leg, then the other, through the hole. She pushed until only her arms remained outside the opening. She grasped the rope, tested its strength and without hesitation let herself slide down the slope. When she neared the edge, she stopped her slide and carefully stood, still holding the rope. She took out the big flashlight, aiming it from side to side, above, and finally over the edge of the slope.

She was inside a sandstone cavern about the size of a two-story house. All of the walls were unevenly shaped but smooth, apparently worn by the passage of water over millions of years. The water itself was a slow moving shallow stream about twelve feet across and fifteen feet below where she stood. She again stowed the large flashlight, positioned the rope around her waist and with the penlight in her mouth, backed down the steeper slope, which led nearly to the water's sandy edge. At the bottom, she put away the small flashlight and turned on the large one. From this position the entire area reminded her of a subway system, the deep dark tunnels on either side of the cavern seeming to go on to infinity. And again, the cool freshness inside this place had an unnerving effect upon her. Why, she didn't understand. Instinctively she felt a danger hidden behind the soothing facade of the cavern.

There was nothing more to be seen, she told herself, the uneasiness growing within her. Time to go.

Just as she turned, the lamp flashed on an object in the water. Laura knelt and pointed the light at it. It lay in the shallow water close to the edge, lodged against an irregularity in the streambed. It was a dark rock, about the size and shape of a rugby ball - certainly not the lighter-colored sandstone that made up the rest of the cavern's surface.

Gazing at the slow-moving water passing over the rock, a wave of relaxation and peace suddenly enveloped her. She seemed mesmerized by the rock, or was it the water, which appeared so inviting, so welcoming. She slowly reached for the rock, submerging her hand in the cool water, grasped it and tried to roll it onto the sandy bank. But it seemed so heavy, so much of an effort. Maybe better just to leave it and wade into the water, lie down and let its gentle passing caress her body.

Laura caught herself leaning forward, ready to enter the water. She cried out, rolled the rock out of the stream, and fell backwards.

Now she knew the feeling of an animal lured to the snare, and a panicked sensation poured over her. Got to get out of here now.

As she stood, stinging pain engulfed her right hand, which had been in the water. She rubbed it with the left, and immediately her left hand began to burn also - to burn as if covered by acid.

Laura quickly knelt and immersed both hands in the sand, desperately trying to make the pain stop. She reached for the small canteen on her belt and with shaking fingers unloosened the cap. Her hands were now beginning to show angry red welts. She poured the canteen water into one cupped hand, then rung her hands. She repeated the process and felt the pain lessening. She continued until the canteen was empty, but by then the pain had thankfully abated.

She sat in the sand for a moment, wide-eyed, stunned, collecting herself. Shining the flashlight over her hands, she noted that the welts had disappeared. The pain was gone.

She had no doubt that the water before her had an unexplainable power, and that she had nearly been drawn into it by some force beyond her comprehension. But this was not the time or place for analysis. She wanted nothing further to do with it or with this place. Laura stood, rubbed her hands against her shorts, and picked up the flashlight. She aimed it at the rock she'd taken from the water and studied it. Its texture was that of sandstone, and it appeared to be sedimentary. But it was much darker than the sandstone inside the cavern. She covered the rock with sand and moved it about, trying to dry it off. Finally, when she thought it was safe, she picked it up with her handkerchief and placed it into a specimen bag. She grasped the rope and began to pull herself upward.

Chapter 2

As night fell, Laura sat by her campfire considering the events of the day.

She had visited Egyptian tombs and other sacred sites, a few of which supposedly had been cursed, and had felt nothing threatening or even out of the ordinary. But the cavern today was entirely different, seeming to emanate a palpable evil.

When she pulled herself out of the small opening, she had made up her mind that no one else would stumble onto the place below. And so, she had spent the rest of the day sealing the entrance with the fallen rocks and debris, which had originally covered it. A thought had struck her then; she wondered if someone before her, possibly hundreds or even thousands of years ago had purposely covered the opening. No telling for certain.

By the time she'd finished, the spot looked as though a rockslide had occurred, nothing more.

She had ridden the small four-wheel drive recreational vehicle back to her camp about half a mile away, exhausted, but too keyed up to sleep.

She sat, wondering, full of questions, staring at her hands. Her hands, the burning pain, the welts. And stranger yet, the malevolent magnetism of the water itself.

And a sudden realization, one she had been too shaken to notice