The Shell Game, page 1
The Shell Game
M.E. Anderson
Blue Dahlia Publishing
Copyright © 2025 by Blue Dahlia Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the author
Also by
To Syd,
You will be the best lawyer around! Thank you for letting me use your likeness, we both know the truth. Love ya Big!
To Uncle Sparky, the inspiration for Syd's dad.
To my own dad who passed before this was written
Chapter One
Lara Croft, she was not. She hated the swamp, hated the bugs, and especially hated the swamp puppies. This was in no way Sydney's idea of a good time. But when the call came in for her to spend the following two semesters in the swamps of Florida, she could not say no.
Oh, she had tried. She had tried multiple times and in multiple ways, but the head of the University of Central Florida archaeology department pretty much told her that there was no way out of this. She was the expert, the one they wanted on their crew, and for gracing them with her presence, not only would they pay her a handsome salary, but the family sponsoring the dig would also make sure that there was a generous donation to the archaeology department. The icing on the cake was that they were also giving her all the publication rights for any and all discoveries she made while helping to uncover the shell mound that had been found deep in the Florida Everglades.
She reluctantly agreed to spend the next few months in the middle of the swamp evaluating shells and other artifacts uncovered from the dig.
She had to admit that it was exciting; this was a rare find. Shell mounds were generally burial grounds in Florida, meaning that once a human bone was found, there was a complete stop to any and all digging. This stopped the desecration of the graves but also prevented the scientists and archaeologists from studying the culture and burial traditions of the indigenous people that had once lived and thrived on the peninsula.
But this mound was different. After six months of digging, no bones had been recovered. It was thought that this one mound complex in all of Florida was merely a ceremonial mound. There were no bodies, but lots of unique prehistoric artifacts that could only be found and recorded here. This was a dream job for so many in the field, an opportunity to record and fill in the gaps of what life was like before Europeans invaded.
How had Sydney, a cultural anthropologist, gotten roped into this? She often wondered this herself as she swatted mosquitoes and tried to avoid snakes. Syd was the foremost expert on the use of shells as ritual objects, especially as they had been used over time in burial and death ceremonies. Since this particular mound's purpose hadn't been discovered yet, here she was, analyzing every angle of where and how a shell was found.
There were a lot of shells in this mound, not just coquina, but shells from all over the Caribbean, and some from as far away as the west coast of Mexico. All of this led to the idea that trade routes were much more diverse and larger than previously thought.
Sydney could not pass up the chance to be the first to publish an academic paper with proof of such a large trade route, so here she was standing in the middle of a swamp, trying not to get bit by snakes, mosquitoes, or alligators on the way to find a place to potty in the pitch-black of the moonless night. Not her most brilliant idea, but she could not go potty near her tent, or chickee, as the Seminole men who were supervising the dig called them. Truthfully, her tent was set on a chickee, so they were both right; either way, it was not a smart idea to do her business that close to where they were living. There are too many predators in this area to leave ascent that would entice them to come closer.
Syd shook her head to try to concentrate more on where she was going and less on why she was here. Sure, she had seen that same palmetto bush three times on her way to the latrine area. She looked around. She was most definitely lost somewhere on the way to the latrine in the middle of the night in the middle of the Florida Everglades.
"There has got to be an easier way." She said out loud as she finally saw the area they had designated for bathroom usage. She shined her flashlight around, trying to make sure nothing was there that would bite her. She always smiled at the idea of dying due to a venomous snakebite in the ass. How ironic that would be! The girl who hated the outdoors was to die in the most embarrassing outdoor way possible.
Her imagination went off on its own while she did her business. Who would have found her? What would they say? Would she have an open casket, or would they just cremate her?
Sydney knew she was morbid; she studied death for goodness' sake. Of course, she was morbid. In reality, she liked to think of herself as realistic. She tried to think about realistic circumstances and how she would react to them, or how they would kill her.
Yep, she was morbid.
She didn't hurry back to the camp area. She was so turned around that it would be irresponsible to hurry and get herself more lost, so she tried to find her way back carefully. To her right, the palmetto bushes started to shake, the sound they made erupting through the not-so-quiet night of bugs and birds.
Sydney dropped her flashlight while turning to run. She got about ten feet away before the sound of masculine laughter behind her broke through her panic. She slid to a stop. Looking back, she could see her flashlight still on the ground, eliminating size twelve boots.
Sam Lerond was doubled over in laughter. She stalked back, grabbing her flashlight off the ground, she harumphed at him before turning to head back to camp.
"Wait, Syd. I'm sorry, but it was too easy. You've been out here for like forty minutes; I was worried you were lost, so I came outlooking for you."
"I was lost you ass, but now I am not!" She started to stalk away.
"Then why are you going the opposite direction from camp?"
Sydney stopped and looked around, but she didn't recognize anything. Of course, it all looked the same out here in the dark, and a little in the daylight too, so maybe he was just teasing her. But she couldn't be sure, so she turned back around to see his smiling face.
Sam Lerond was the archaeologist in charge of the actual digging. He was tall and dark-haired, his muscles weren't too big but clearly were there, his hazel eyes twinkled on sunlit days, and he was a cad.
Sydney knew about all of his adventures and why so many young women from the colleges wanted to intern with him. Yes, a few wanted to actually learn, but with Sam looking like a young Indiana Jones, most wanted to try to become the next Mrs. Indiana Jones. Sydney also knew that was hopeless. Sam just had his fun, got his work out of these young women, and sent them on their way.
He seemed to be trying to get Sydney to fall for him, but she knew better. The only thing that kept him interested in her was that she had said no. Multiple times.
"Look, Syd, give me a few minutes and I'll walk you back. No strings, no jokes, just two colleagues walking through the swamp at night, trying not to get all their blood sucked out by the mosquitoes. Seriously, I was worried. You aren't really an outdoorsy girl."
His smile irritated her beyond belief, but she knew she could not find her way back, so she nodded in agreement, "I'll wait here." She said.
He smiled and hurried off to the makeshift bathroom. It was a few moments before he was heading back towards her, saying, " You know, if you turn off the flashlight, you won't attract the bugs as much if the don't have the light to be attracted to."
Sydney shut her light off, plunging them into complete darkness. They stood there, waiting for their eyes to adjust.
"There isn't much moon tonight, but if you give it a few, your eyes will adjust to what light there is. It's easier to turn on the flashlight only when you think you might need it. "
His know-it-all tone made her want to turn the flashlight on for spite, but she could feel the bugs lessening around her. They weren't totally gone, but they were significantly less, and any little bit helped.
Sam tapped her on the arm to let her know they were headed back. "Step where I step if you can, that way you can stay on the path. I don't feel like gator wrestling for your life today." He chuckled as he said this. Syd rolled her eyes, grateful for the darkness. He really was doing her a solid by getting her back safe, but did he have to be such an ass about it?
They had walked silently for a few minutes before Sam spoke, "So, the Terrel's tell me that you are the foremost expert on the use of shells in ritual matters."
Syd just nodded, then realized he couldn't see her. "That's what they tell me as well, " she said, trying not to sound out of breath.
"I looked into you a bit, you know, when they said you were joining the team. Your fieldwork is quite impressive. Africa, South America, plus a few different spots in Florida. Why would you waste
Sydney knew he had been asking about her, some of her colleagues had let her know. She didn't actually care all that much. There was a time when the idea of someone like Sam, a career archaeologist with tenure and so many publications that he was the epitome of success in this field, would have made her giddy with excitement. But now, all she wanted was to stay in her little bubble and study the ideas, not be out in the field.
"I like my books."
"Books are great, but don't you just feel alive out here? I mean, you went to Honduras and worked in the pyramid structures, you held gold older than our country, the people, and the culture. How can your books be better than that?"
She had heard this all before. There were a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that she was not an outdoorsy girl, but watching her father fade away with dementia had made her reprioritize her world. She spent as much time with her dad as she could. He didn't know who she was anymore, but his face always lit up when she came in the door. He knew she was family, or at least familiar. He told her war stories and tried to teach her things that he had to learn while serving in Vietnam. It reminded her of her childhood, all those camping trips with him, dragging her around to so many cool places. It was these trips that made her want to be an anthropologist.
"When you don't know something, who do you ask?" She had said this line dozens of times to people when they questioned her about missing field work.
"The librarian, or researcher, I guess." Sam stared at her thoughtfully. "You like to have all the answers. That's why you stick to your books." This last part was said quietly as if he were mulling it over.
"Yes, I like to solve the puzzles that you all find out here. But I get to do it in air conditioning, with running water and a working toilet. Oh, and fresh coffee, can't forget that."
"Hey, you get fresh coffee here." He tried to sound offended.
She side-eyed him. In the dark, she wasn't sure he could see it, but his chuckle let her know he at least understood her silence on the subject.
They rounded a bend that Sydney did not remember from her trek out, the tops of the camp buildings ahead. You couldn't miss it; it was lit up like the Fourth of July.
That wasn't right, Syd thought. How could there be that many lights? And the noise, there was so much noise coming from the camp. It took her brain a moment to realize what it was.
Sam had already stopped. He placed his hand on her arm, making sure she stopped as well. His head was tilted slightly as he listened.
As she and Sam stood in the dark, they could hear yelling in deep, guttural Spanish. She could identify the language fairly easily; it was one she spoke fluently. Living in central Florida meant Spanish was spoken as often as English was.
But the words were not ones she was familiar with. Then the first gunshot rang out, making her jump.
The swamp exploded with sounds: birds taking off from the trees, critters skittering into the water, and larger things rushing through the bushes to escape the noise.
Sam grabbed her arm and dragged her deeper into the brush, oblivious of the bugs or anything else. Syd gladly scrunched down with him.
"What the hell is going on?" Sam hissed, his head popping up as he tried to get a good view of the campsite. "I can't quite hear what they are saying, can you?'
Syd closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, "Something like where is it, where is it, but that's all I can get. The dialect is a little different than what I'm used to, I think I'm missing a subtlety." She opened her eyes to see fire spreading out around the campsite.
"We need to go!" Sam hadn't let go of her arm before and began dragging her away from the heat.
"We can't just leave them all there!" Syd tried to fight him, but the mud impeded her steps, along with the dragging. She fell, Sam grabbed her under her arms, and pulled her with him.
She looked back one more time as the gunshots rang out again, then she put it in gear and ran alongside Sam, hoping to find a safe spot until the sun came up.
Chapter Two
Safe was not a word Syd would use while hiding in the swamp. It was dark and wet, and there were venomous snakes, gators, and crocodiles. This was the only place on earth where crocodiles and gators lived together. Lucky her.
Sam was great. He made sure she kept moving, tried his best to keep them out of the water, and understood the wildlife. If they got out of this, Syd wanted to ask him how he knew so much about the Florida Everglades and its wildlife. She felt like she was on an episode of Crocodile Hunter, only in the U.S.
They stopped when Syd was too exhausted to go on, Sam had found a small mound that rose above the water line. In the back of Syd's mind, she was pretty sure this was a burial mound, but she wasn't picky where the dry safe land was, as long as it remained dry and safe.
"What the hell?" Syd could barely catch her breath. She leaned over, trying to put her hands on her knees to keep herself up, but she missed. She collapsed on the ground, too tired to move; she lay there panting.
"I don't know, Syd, I don't know. Please, please, are you okay?" Sam leaned over her, but her eyes closed; she could not keep them open. She wasn't sleeping; her body was just too worn out to move.
Sam dropped to his knees, feeling for a pulse. Syd tried to push his hands away, but even that movement was more than she could handle.
She opened her eyes just a slit before gulping out, "It's okay, Sam. I don't normally run." She took short, drawn breaths, "My body is in revolt against me right now. Just give me a few." She closed her eyes again, hearing Sam sigh and chuckle a little. She was glad to hear some of his humor still evident.
"Okay, but I need to talk. I'm a talker when there's a problem. Is that okay? You don't have to move, just let me ramble a bit."
Syd nodded as best she could and curled up on her side in the mud.
"Could you tell what they were saying? I mean, I heard you speak Spanish, and I'm pretty sure that was Spanish."
Something told Syd to lie, "Not really. It was too far and I can order coffee, but that's about it."
She let her eyes open just a slit again and saw Sam glance down at her. She wasn't sure why she lied; was there really something she didn't trust about Sam? Well, besides the whole womanizing thing. This wasn't the time or the place to worry about that.
Syd took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the swamp. She closed her eyes again, smelling the dampness, the decay, and the underlying scent of dirt and new life. She pushed herself up and came to a sitting position.
"Sorry about that, I don't usually push myself that hard, especially after being in the heat all day. I promise I will be better, you won't have to carry me out." She swept her curly hair back from her face and looked around.
The dark obscured Sam's face from her, but she swore she could see the white of his teeth as he smiled.
"Okay, let's rest here. The sun will be up in a bit, and we can go back and check on the camp. Do you have anything on you that might help? A granola bar or anything?"
Syd checked her pockets even though she was pretty sure she had left everything back at the tent. She didn't even have her phone, just the flashlight, which she was impressed she hadn't dropped. She was so glad Sam made her turn it off; who knows what would have happened if the camp raiders had seen the light?
Maggie.
What happened to Maggie, the only other woman working this week? She was an intern with one of the cartographers. He had taken the week to go home and had left Maggie there to finish mapping the site.
Syd lay back in the dirt, the image of the young woman in her mind. Her eyes closed of their own accord, leaving her in an unsettling sleep.
The blazing sun striking her in the face woke Syd up. She was flat on her back on the top of the mound, staring at the trees as they moved in the breeze above her. The sky blazed red and orange above the trees. The humidity wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. Mornings were always her favorite part of living in Florida, though she preferred to feel the sun and humidity from her balcony while she sipped her steaming cup of coffee.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and she surveyed the area around her. Sam was a few feet away, snoring gently on his side. It took her a moment to get standing; her joints were stiff, and her muscles screamed in protest at the movement. The run through the swamp last night had taken its toll on her body, and it was not going to let her forget it. She did a few yoga moves just to stretch what needed to be stretched, then took a tentative step forward. After realizing she would not fall flat on her face, she stepped over to Sam to wake him up.
