The Night of the Jaguar: Summer McCloud paranormal mystery, #5

By nikki broadwell

when Summer and Jerry set off on a honeymoon to the diving resort of Akumal, Summer doesn't have any idea what is coming. Ghosts, jaguars, and criminals lurk around every corner, taking her away from Jerry and on a dangerous trip she never intended. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: nikki broadwell
• Release date: Sep 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393608417

nikki broadwell

Nikki Broadwell has been writing non-stop for sixteen years. From the time when she was a child her imagination has threatened to run off with her and now she is able to give it free rein. Animals and nature and the condition of the world are themes that follow her storylines that meander from fantasy to paranormal murder mystery to shapeshifters--and along with that add the spice of a good love story. 

Book preview

Prologue

My throat burned, my lungs on fire as I hurtled down the dirt road away from the whine of the engine behind me. They were gaining. Of course they’re gaining, you ninny—they’re in a car and you’re on foot! And not just any old car but a black town car with bulletproof glass and windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see inside. How could they allow...but that question left my mind when a narrow path appeared on my right, leading through a field planted in some low growing vegetable that did well in arid climates—maybe Taro? When a gunshot rang out my mind went as blank as the cloudless sky. I ran for my life.

How I had come to be out in the middle of Mexico running from banditos trying to kill me was a question I couldn’t even ponder at the moment. My legs were tiring, my heart rate way above anything resembling normal, and when I glanced over my shoulder I saw two bulky men heading my way on foot, guns drawn. Jerry, you fucking bastard! The words that rang through my mind were not the best way to think of the man I’d just married—and where was he now that my life was about to be ended by two thugs in riot gear?

This entire scenario was Jerry’s fault, and if I lived long enough to see him again I would murder him with my bare hands. Why in god’s name had I said yes? A bullet winged my ear—blood trickled down my cheek and along my neck as I felt the ground give way. A moment later I was falling into darkness, my fingers clutching at air. I hit the water and sank.

Chapter One

Jerry was on the phone again. I watched him talking and gesturing, his Italian heritage coming out with the expansive movements of his hands. His dark brows were furrowed over narrowed eyes, his head bent to the cell phone. I couldn’t imagine the charges he was racking up. When he disappeared around the corner of the hotel I went back to my margarita, trying to ignore the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach.

We were in Akumal, Mexico for our honeymoon because of the great diving, but Jerry had yet to try it. In the three days we’d been here, his time on the phone had taken up over an hour of each afternoon. And when I asked who he was talking to he said things like, Police business, or nothing for you to worry about. That last one sounded suspiciously like ‘don’t worry your pretty little head over it’, and pissed me off royally.

Jerry and I had worked together on several cases and this attitude of his was beginning to grate. I felt left out and irritated that it was taking time away from ‘us’. I had a distinct memory of the plane ride down and snuggling close, my whispered words of, Ten whole days with nothing to think about but sun and hanky panky and maybe a few alcoholic beverages thrown in for good measure. His eyebrows had waggled suggestively in response, his hand on the back of my neck to pull me close for a kiss. And not just any kiss, either.

We’d been through a lot to get to this place in our relationship, and I didn’t want it jeopardized by some outside forces. I took another sip of my overly sweet margarita, vowing to ask them for more tequila next time. I was barely getting buzzed. I left the half full glass sitting on the table and headed up to our room.

I was lying on the bed with my eyes closed when I heard him come in, the click of the door as it closed.  Sorry, my love. Police business.

I opened my eyes. What’s going on, Jerry? Is it Sam who keeps calling you? Is something going on at home?

He scoffed. Nothing big, Summer. I guess Sam needs my reassurance or something.

I knew that flick of his eyes, the way his fingers ran nervously through his hair—he was lying. And Sam was a capable detective who would never interrupt our honeymoon if he didn’t have to.

I thought back to Jerry’s romantic proposal, our expensive engagement lunch in Providence, and our marriage two months later on April fool’s day at city hall, with Sam and Agnes as witnesses. Our idea of a large wedding had been dismissed after his mother proved herself to be an even bigger bitch than we had originally supposed. She could not accept that Jerry loved me, acting as though I were a gold digger in one breath, while asking if I was pregnant in another. Despite how responsible he’d felt about his mother since his father’s death, Jerry had been strong in his support of me; both of us were on the same page about letting the lavish wedding idea go in lieu of a small civil ceremony.

Before our wedding Jerry and I had been in therapy for months to help him come to grips with Lucia Brady’s hold over him. Although I hardly knew the woman, she was jealous of me and didn’t want to let her youngest son go. His proposal had only come after a lengthy diatribe about what he’d discovered about himself, how he was a ‘changed man’, and how much he loved me. We’d been apart for quite a while before that, and his declaration had taken me completely by surprise.

I glanced at the rings on my finger, the wide gold band with the Celtic symbols all over it, and the diamond I was sure had cost him a small fortune. But no matter, he’d just inherited nearly a half million dollars from the sale of his childhood home, a fact he’d kept secret until I found out from another source. We’d promised each other we would never keep secrets, and this one had nearly broken us up for good. And now he was at it again, talking with someone, and refusing to discuss it with me. Secrets could be the end of us.

Jerry sat on the bed next to me, his brown eyes gazing into mine. Are you mad at me?

I’m getting that way. You know how I hate secrets, Jerry.

This isn’t a secret, it’s more like I can’t discuss it.

What’s the difference?

Jerry turned away, a frown appearing on his sun-bronzed face. I’m not allowed to talk about it.

I stared at him. Since when?

You know I’m up for chief, right? It’s connected.

I rolled my eyes. If you say so. I wriggled past him off the bed. I’m going to take a shower.

He grabbed my arm. Can I join you and um...you know?

I’m too irritated with you right now. Maybe if you stop talking on the phone and spend some quality time with me I’d be more willing to...‘you know’.

Jerry and I had always had a healthy sex life, but since his therapy his entire approach had changed. Now instead of ripping off my clothes and falling into frenzied passion, he took his time, his focus on me. It was one of the reasons I’d said yes. Now he was back to his old tricks, coupling quickly with much gusto and little thought to my pleasure. What had brought about this change?

Shit, Summer. I can’t help it if I’ve got an assignment... he paused as though he’d said too much.

I stopped on my way to the shower. Assignment? What assignment? Here? Now?

He shook his head and looked away. No, not here. It’s chief stuff back in Ames.

I let out a frustrated sigh and continued toward the bathroom, shedding my shirt and bikini on the way.  But before I reached the shower he’d stripped off his shirt and was unzipping his jeans, following me. I knew that look. I closed the door in his face.

With hot water sluicing down my back I tried to let it all go. I’d thought we would slip naked into bed after a day of sun and surf. I’d imagined his touch and the enjoyment we would bring to one another.  Instead I was angry, confused and frustrated. He hadn’t yet been sworn in as chief—how could he be dealing with chief business?

I remembered the call he’d gotten the night before our trip, the entire scene coming back to me in lurid detail:

Jerry had grabbed his cell phone off the bedside table, a frown of annoyance on his face. Yes?  A second later he sat up, his expression changing. Yes, sir, I understand. Now?

I’d already shed my clothes and we were just about to embark on a very fine end to a wonderful day—I wasn’t happy to see him go into cop mode.

He’d ended the call and placed his phone down. Something’s happened, he’d muttered with an evasive gaze my way.

I gathered that. What is it? I’d asked.

Can’t say right now, but I have to go.

Go where?

I have to meet someone—cop business, he added as an after thought. As if I didn’t know. I may be gone for a while.

You do remember we fly out tomorrow, right? Is this someone related to the precinct?

He was already dressed. Peripherally, he answered, strapping on his gun.

He’d leaned down to give me a peck on the lips before grabbing his wallet, cell phone and keys. I heard the front door open and close and then the rumble as his motorcycle came to life. The sound faded as he headed to wherever he was going. And despite my pestering later, he’d never explained.

The next day he’d seemed like his old self, whistling as he drove us to the airport, affectionate with me as we waited to board. But right before we boarded he’d gotten a call on his cell, giving me a look before rising to talk. By the time he got back I was already standing in line, unable to question him. And once we were on the plane my excitement took precedence. Was all that related to what was happening now? Why wouldn’t he tell me?

When I came out of the bathroom Jerry was on the bed leaning against the headboard, a pillow propped behind him. Why won’t you let me touch you? he asked with a sad puppy look.

I faced him. Because you just want to get your rocks off, that’s why. Something’s different between us, Jerry. I trusted that you really had changed. Now I’m not so sure.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me down on the bed, dislodging my towel. "I need you, Summer—you’re my wife now, I count on you. This thing I’m dealing with isn’t easy. I wish I could tell you what it is, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy. It could be dangerous for you. Please let me in."

His eyes filled, his expression nearly desperate. My heart softened, my towel slipping onto the floor as his hands moved across my still damp skin. I met his mouth, trying hard to stay aloof, but with what his fingers were up to it proved impossible.  A few long drawn out minutes later his jeans were off and we were moving together, our breath coming in gasps. This was the Jerry I knew, the one I loved. But who was that other guy?  I forgot about all of it as Jerry took me into the place where there was no thought, only blissful sensation.

Chapter Two

Iwore my new pink and green bikini, the sun hot on my skin as we headed toward the cenote. I’d read about these sinkholes, part of the system of rivers that ran underground in this part of the world. They were considered spiritual places, but many had been turned into tourist attractions, explored by swimmers and divers. We had rented flippers, and Jerry was wearing a wet suit and carrying his diving gear. This is awesome, I said as we descended the wooden stairs. Other tourists were with us, their murmuring voices echoing as we entered the cave. The pool was dark aside from a strip that shone blue-green where a slant of sunlight hit it, the aroma of roots and dampness filling my nostrils. The underground river curved away and disappeared into darkness.

Okay, everyone, listen up! our tour guide said loudly. My name is Myra and I’m your tour guide for today. A few rules before we go: do not veer off our route, and please, please be careful of divers beneath you. They come from other areas of the river so you might not know they are there. I don’t have to tell you not to take anything from down here, do I? There is a spiritual component here that is valuable to our people, so please respect any tree roots you see or other flora or fauna.

There was a mutter of assent.

Jerry raised his hand. Can I dive?

She looked him over carefully. Yes, but I want you to stay within the parameters of the tour. There are too many places to get lost down here. Are you experienced?

Jerry nodded. I’m a cop and I have lengthy diving training under my belt.

That was a lie. Jerry had been diving two other times. And he didn’t need to mention the cop thing, but whatever it took to give him credibility.

Our tour guide was stocky and strong with coal black hair pulled back in a ponytail, her heavy eyelids characteristic of the indigenous Mayans.  She frowned, her dark eyes trained on him. All right, but please stay close. I don’t want you on my casualty list.

There’s a casualty list? I whispered.

Jerry scoffed and pulled on his tank.

What’s the spiritual thing? I asked her once I’d waded in.

She turned from helping a woman with her lifejacket. The early peoples believed that the cenote was an entrance into another world. The tree’s roots are in the water and the trunk and the branches lie above, rising from the ground—a bridge between the heavens and the earth. The cenotes are one of the few sources of fresh water in the Yucatan. There are many who are not happy with the tourists swimming through them.

I can understand that, I said, nodding. I’m surprised the government doesn’t put a stop to it.

She shook her head. It is too much of a money-maker for the government to turn down. There are some on public lands that are protected, but many private owners have opened theirs up for tourists. Those are the ones you need to stay away from, she added, handing me a lifejacket. They may be cheaper, but they do not have safety in mind.

I took the lifejacket, a moment of nerves crowding out my questions. What safety was she referring to?  Meanwhile Jerry was outfitted with his diving gear, no lifejacket to keep him from sinking beneath the surface. I envied him for a moment until I remembered my claustrophobia. No way would I dive. Ever.

The eight of us headed out, following our guide into the water. It was cool but not cold, and after the hot sun it felt refreshing. She pointed out the stalactites as we went, shining a flashlight up to point them out where they hung from the uneven ceiling. Some areas we paddled by were lit up with large spotlights to show the tree roots floating in the air like hair. Beyond them we could see the crystalline structures that littered the cave roof and the smaller stalactites beginning. Beyond that, shadowy areas disappeared into blackness. Are there other divers down there? I asked pointing to a tiny light under the water in the distance.

Yes, there are always divers coming from other parts of the cenotes. Some are archeologists and some are doing research—others are simply exploring. They wear ropes to guide them back to where they started. It is too easy to make a wrong turn and never find your way out again. I should have put one on your boyfriend—he’s wandering too far. I may have to dive down and get him. She did not look happy.

Actually, we’re married, I muttered. We paddled on. Under us the only sign of Jerry was the beacon he wore on his armon the front of his helmet and the bubbles that occasionally rose to the surface. I began to worry.

"The swimming holes you see here are formed by collapsng limestone

bedrock that exposes the groundwater," Myra announced to the group at large.

The lighting cast an eerie glow across the water, turning it turquoise and blue. I could see into the depths where rocky outcroppings sat next to shadowy darker areas. Some of our group had donned snorkeling gear as they paddled their flippered feet, exploring. I shivered. How deep does this go?

Thirty feet or so—in some places it is even deeper. She turned to the group again, her strong voice echoing. Cenotes are the main source of fresh water and are exclusive to the Yucatan Peninsula. In Maya culture they were connected with the jaguar goddess of midwifery and medicine, Ixchel, who is also aligned with the moon. Jaguars move between worlds and have been considered protectors and transformers by the ancients. Many people still have blessing ceremonies performed by Maya healers during the full moon or before a wedding, giving offerings to the jaguar goddess. She stopped to tread water, turning to the group.

But don’t be fooled by the calm you experience here. There are legends of sea serpents capturing little children—these pools are entrances into vast underground rivers where one can easily get lost. If you are a diver you might well come upon a shrine or two deep beneath the surface where offerings are made to appease the gods. Even now many go to great lengths to protect themselves just in case these creatures are still around. And others will not go near a cenote for fear of angering whatever ancient entities might still be in residence; skeletons are often found in the depths, the details of the deaths mysterious and unresolved.

I knew she was painting a scary picture for the tourists but it still gave me a chill as I pictured a sea serpent grabbing my leg and pulling me down to drown me among the others who had been sacrificed to the gods of this ancient place.

When we came into a large cavern lit