Page 36 of Silent Past
"Everything alright?" Angel asked.
"Sorry about that." She put the phone away and smiled apologetically. "My mother would strangle me—she always had a thing about using the phone in front of other people."
Angel closed his notebook. "We should probably head out to the site if we're going to see it tonight. The lighting conditions are actually perfect right now for viewing some of the formations I've documented."
Rachel glanced at a nearby clock: 10:41 PM. The bar around them was showing no signs of slowing down. "How far is it?"
"Fifteen minutes by car, then a short walk." He gathered his things. "I know it seems unusual, visiting a site at night. But some things really can't wait."
Rachel hesitated. Angel had proved to be exactly what he'd claimed: a legitimate researcher with interesting findings relevant to her work. His faculty credentials had checked out. They'd had an engaging academic discussion. And yet…
"We could wait until morning," she suggested. "Better visibility."
"Of course." His smile was understanding. "Though I should mention—I'm heading to a conference in Denver tomorrow. I won't be back for two weeks. And what I've found... well, I think it could significantly impact your current research direction. But I completely understand if you'd prefer to wait."
Rachel thought about her wall of maps, the patterns she'd been trying to understand. If Angel had found physical evidence of cultural continuation…
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked.
"There's an old forest service road off Highway 40, just past mile marker 23. You can follow me there."
Rachel nodded. As she followed Angel out, she quickly sent Mark the details of the location, adding: Following Dr. Angel to research site. Will call when heading home.
As they walked to their cars, Angel talking enthusiastically about preservation techniques in limestone caves, Rachel felt a mixture of academic excitement and lingering caution. But she'd taken precautions—she'd shared her location and documented Angel's identity, and multiple people knew where she was.
Sometimes academic research required stepping outside normal comfort zones. And the possibility of finding evidence that supported her theories about cultural resilience…
She followed Angel's Subaru out of the parking lot, pausing to take a quick picture of the Subaru's license plate—UTX-247—and send it to her husband before following the other car onto the road. The bar's lights disappeared behind them as they headed into the darkness beyond the city's edge.
The headlights of Angel's Subaru cast long shadows through the pines as Rachel followed him onto the forest service road. Gravel crunched beneath her tires, and branches scraped against her car's sides. Her phone showed one bar of service—enough to maintain location sharing, but barely.
The road wound deeper into darkness. Rachel checked her rearview mirror frequently, though she wasn't sure what she expected to see. The night pressed close around her car, and the trees seemed to swallow her headlights.
After about ten minutes, Angel's brake lights flashed. He pulled onto a wide shoulder where the road curved around a limestone outcropping. Rachel parked behind him, leaving enough space between their vehicles to maneuver if needed.
Angel was already out of his car, shrugging on a backpack. "The path starts just over here," he called, his voice carrying in the still night air. He clicked on a powerful flashlight, illuminating a narrow trail leading into the trees.
Rachel grabbed her own pack, making sure her phone was easily accessible in its side pocket. She'd brought her digital recorder too, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe to document whatever Angel wanted to show her, or maybe just because it was part of her standard research kit.
"The cave entrance is about a quarter mile ahead," Angel said as they started walking. His manner remained professionally enthusiastic, like a curator leading a private museum tour. "What's fascinating is how the indigenous populations used these natural formations. They understood the preservative properties of limestone caves centuries before Western science documented them."
Rachel followed, noting how easily Angel moved along the rough trail. For an older academic, he seemed remarkably comfortable in the wilderness. "How did you find this particular site?" she asked.
"Oral histories, mainly. Local elders mentioned a place where 'the old ones sleep.' Most researchers assumed it was metaphorical." He paused to shine his light on a rock formation. "But I've spent decades studying these patterns. Learning to read the landscape the way they did."
Something about his phrasing made Rachel pause. "I thought you were based at the University of Colorado?"
"Oh, I am now. But I've worked all over the Southwest." He continued walking, his voice drifting back. "You have to understand, Dr. Harper—some knowledge takes years to acquire. Generations, even. The people who lived here, they understood things we're only beginning to grasp."
Her phone buzzed. Mark again: Getting worried. How much longer?
Before she could reply, Angel spoke again. "The preservation in these caves is remarkable. The combination of mineral content and constant temperature... bodies can last thousands of years, virtually unchanged."
Rachel looked up sharply. "Bodies?"
"Yes." Angel had stopped walking. He stood several paces ahead, his flashlight beam pointing down the trail. "That's what I found, you see. A perfect specimen. Preserved in the ice and limestone. And when I extracted it..." He trailed off.
Rachel shivered. "Dr. Angel?"
