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that’s off-limits, or you’ll be sent back to the village, backpack in hand.”
    Her stern expression emphasized her point. He needed to step carefully. He didn’t need Angélica as an adversary.
    “I’m responsible for every person here,” she continued. “Any accidents or problems need to be brought to my attention immediately. Teodoro is our resident healer, so if you get bit by a snake and need immediate attention, he’s the person to see.”
    “He’s good with toothaches, too,” Juan added.
    Teodoro was apparently a real jack of all trades.
    “In the States, the freedom of speech allows the press many excesses. But this is Mexican soil, and since I work for the Mexican government, I have the authority to limit your freedom. So, I’ll let you know what you can and can’t take pictures of around here.”
    Ah ha! That’s why she ruled over the men instead of Juan. The University of Arizona wasn’t paying for all of this, Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology and History was. Quint measured her with a stare. With dirt smudged from her temple to her jawline and a petite nose sprinkled with freckles, she didn’t look like a lead archaeologist. Then again, neither had Dr. Hughes.
    “Do you have any questions?” she asked.
    Quint lowered his cup to the table, weighing all she’d divulged. “Do you send anyone into the village on a regular basis? I left a forwarding address at the hotel, and I need someone to check for mail.”
    “You’re having mail shipped to the hotel?” Her green eyes narrowed, suspicion lurking there. “How long do you plan on sticking around, Mr. Parker?”
    “As long as it takes to get all I need for the article.” And then some. He doubted he’d get to the bottom of Dr. Hughes’ disappearance in a couple of days.
    Her jaw tightened. She didn’t seem to like his answer. “How about we take it one day at a time and see how everything works out?”
    “With us?” he deliberately misunderstood, flirting with a wink, testing those waters.
    “With you,” she snapped, slamming the door on his attempt to charm her. Gathering her father’s and Quint’s plates, she stacked them on top of hers. “Teodoro goes to the village on Tuesdays. I’ll have him check for mail then.” She stood with the plates in hand. “Anything else?”
    There was something he’d been curious about all afternoon. “What’s this I hear about a curse?”
    The hum of conversation throughout the tent ceased.
    Quint scanned the room, shifting in his seat under the weight of all of the stares focused on him. What? Had he opened Pandora’s box?
    Angélica frowned at her dad. “What did you tell him?”
    Juan held up his hands. “It wasn’t me, I swear.” His eyes sparkling with excitement, he turned to Quint. “We found some glyphs that read like a curse and—”
    “We found some glyphs that tell a story from the past,” Angélica spoke over him loud and clear, as if giving an announcement at a podium. “And some people have jumped to the conclusion that it sounds like a curse. However, I’m sure you all will soon realize that it’s not a curse.” She peered around the room, her hard expression hammering her point home. “Just a few mishaps.”
    The sound of silverware scraping across tin plates and the rumbling of voices started up again as if on cue, but Quint could feel the tension still in the air. Maybe he could get Angélica to show him these curse glyphs, find out what the big deal was about.
    “Time will tell.” Juan’s voice was low, meant for only those at their table.
    “Yes, it will,” Angélica challenged back, and then leaned over the table and kissed her father on the cheek. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to my tent to look up a few things.” Carrying their dirty plates, she negotiated through the other tables while bidding her crew “goodnight,” set the plates on the counter, and left the tent.
    This was it, Quint’s opportunity to catch