Last Breath (12 page)

“His father being one of Alistair McGowan's sons?”

“Yes.”

“We need to find out who else could have known about the artifacts in the museum basement. And who knew enough about Shandihar to know about the wicked punishments the priestesses meted out when they were pissed off.”

“I asked Louise who else might have read the journals.”

“And?”

“The journals have been kept in the president's office in a glass case all these years, for at least as long as Louise has been at Howe. She said they were in the case when she took the job, and thinks they might have been there all along. She noted that the condition of the bindings and the paper is exceptional for books that old, which they would be if they'd been kept behind glass and out of the sunlight all these years.”

“Which doesn't mean they hadn't been removed, read, and returned over the years.”

“Well, they have been, several times that she knows of. Members of the archaeology department have borrowed them, but never for any length of time.”

“I'm assuming she knows who those department members were?”

“Only the ones during her tenure. Not before that.”

“She can't be certain that they've always been kept in her office. There's always the chance that someone else had them. Maybe they were even in the library.”

“That's highly unlikely.” Daria shook her head. “I've seen these books, and I've seen books of that same age that have been circulated even in a very limited way. I agree with Louise.”

“By the way, I spoke with John this afternoon. He agrees with me that it's time to turn the entire theft issue over to the NSAF.”

“He's probably right.” She looked out the window. “I thought it would be better to do this quietly, but with all these people dying…” She shook her head. “I think it's best if someone who knows what they're doing takes over from here.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

They drove several miles in silence.

“So, I guess you'll be going on to another case.”

“As soon as John has something for me. Right now, I'm sort of between jobs.”

“What exactly do you do?” she asked.

“A little of this, a little of that.” His eyes never left the road.

“You're very evasive, you know that?”

He smiled as he pulled up to the stoplight, but he didn't respond.

“Louise said Dr. Bokhari will be back tomorrow night. Maybe she'll have some insights.” Connor hadn't talked about his job so far, and probably wasn't going to now. And it really wasn't any of her business, so she let it go.

“Dr. Bokhari, the archaeology professor at Howe?”

“Yes. I'm looking forward to meeting her, plus it will be interesting to see what she thinks about all this.”

“What do you suppose will happen with the plans to reopen the museum? Do you think they'll go ahead with it?”

“That's one of the things I spoke to Louise about. They're definitely moving forward. They have armed guards at the museum now, and the meeting with the insurance people is scheduled for tomorrow. You were right. They are sending someone out to assess the building. Along with the risk manager, they're sending a mechanical engineer to look over the systems, as well as a structural engineer. At the same time, a contractor hired by Howe is going to go through and see what renovations will be required.”

“Sounds like a full house.”

“I guess for me, the next logical step is to start planning the exhibits. What to put with what, how best to tell the story. Alistair's as well as Shandihar's. Their destinies were so closely tied together.” She smiled in the darkness. “And it's such a romantic story, you know? Him getting sucked in by the ancient epics, struggling for so many years to find someone who believed in him, being turned down repeatedly.”

“Until he met Benjamin Howe. How did they meet, by the way?”

“Howe attended a lecture Alistair gave at the Wilmington Society for the Preservation of Antiquities. He'd always been interested in the past, and was looking for something that would give his college instant cachet. He spoke with Alistair after the lecture, and offered him a position, right there on the spot.”

“Lucky break for Alistair.”

“In every way. He found the funding he wanted and he found Shandihar. And he found the love of his life in Iliana. In one of his journals, he wrote about the first time he saw her. ‘My heart leapt within me at the very sight of her. It always would, ever thereafter.' Isn't that the most romantic thing you've ever heard?”

“Romantic, yes, but Alistair died young; didn't he? Before he got to see his find placed on exhibit to the public?”

“He wasn't so young; I think he was close to sixty when he died. Iliana was quite a bit younger than he was. And while he never did see his precious artifacts on display, he must have died knowing that he'd realized every dream he'd had. He left quite a legacy, in his work and in his family. I think he would have been very proud to know that his only grandson followed in his footsteps.”

“Not to mention his great-granddaughter.”

“Yes.” She turned her face to the window. “I like to think he'd have been proud of that. I'd like to think he'd have been proud of all of us. Dad, Sam, Iona, Jack. Me.”

“That reminds me. We need to talk about your brother Jack.”

“My mother is sending me copies of all the reports. Maybe the package will be here tomorrow.”

“In that case, maybe you can steal a little time away tomorrow to look it over with me. Just to see if there's anything else I need to know that's not reflected in the PI's reports.”

“Are you sure you don't mind? It could get complicated.”

“Complications don't scare me. Besides, I've been thinking about taking a few weeks off. Now's just as good a time as any.”

“I'll bet you could think of better places to spend your vacation than Howeville, Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, I don't think so.” He glanced at her across the front seat. “I think I'm exactly where I want to be…”

TEN

I
t was close to midnight when the Porsche parked in the visitor's lot. The lights were still on in the president's house and the museum, but Daria was too tired to care too much about what might be going on in either. With the exception of those two buildings, the campus was totally dark.

Before she opened the car door, Daria snapped the leather leash onto Sweet Thing's collar. The dog hopped out eagerly and immediately began to sniff the ground. Connor went to the trunk and retrieved the bag of dog food he'd taken from Damien Cross's home.

“I'll walk you down to the house,” he told Daria as he took her arm.

“I'm not afraid to walk back alone,” she replied. “After all, I have a ‘pit bull' here to protect me.”

“I think you were right about her personality. She really is more of a lamb than a lion.”

“It will be nice to have her in the house. We always had dogs when we were growing up.”

“What did you do with them while you were all globe-trotting?”

“My mom's sister kept whatever menagerie we had at any given time. She never had kids of her own, and was a really good sport about stuff like that.”

“I guess it's hard for you to have a pet these days.”

“Actually, I have a parrot. I had him when I was in grad school. He got passed around from my brother to my sister and back again when I started spending more time out of the country than in it. These days, H.D. spends most of his time with my parents.”

“H.D.?”

“Hound Dog.” She grinned. “I was a big Elvis fan when I was younger.”

“These days?”

“Not so much.”

They reached the end of the path leading to her door. Set between two enormous evergreens, the house appeared forbidding in the dark.

“Let's get you and the dog inside and get some lights on.” Connor stared up at the big house.

“I'm fine, really, Connor. I'm not afraid of the dark. But I could use a hand getting the door open,” she said, as the dog strained at the leash.

“Give me the key, and I'll unlock the door.”

It took him a minute to find the lock and then the keyhole in the dark, but he managed to turn the key and open the door. Once inside, she snapped on the overhead light in the hall.

“Want the dog food in the kitchen?” he asked.

“Yes, but you don't have to—”

“Sure I do.” He smiled and walked ahead of her toward the back of the house.

Daria unhooked the dog's leash and let her roam free to investigate her new home.

“Do you have anything to use for dog dishes?” Connor asked when she came into the kitchen.

“I think there are some glass bowls in this cabinet,” she told him. She found two—one for water, one for food—and turned to place them on the floor. She hesitated for a moment, a curious look on her face.

“What?” He followed her gaze to the back window where Sweet Thing was sniffing with great purpose.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I just thought…”

She waved a hand dismissively.

“What?” he asked again.

“I thought I closed that window when I went to bed last night. I don't remember opening it this morning. Of course, after the day we've had, I guess I'm lucky to remember my name.”

He went to the window and peered out.

“The screen's gone,” he told Daria. “It was definitely on the window when I opened it last night.”

Connor unlocked the back door and went outside, the dog trotting at his heels. When Daria started to lean out the window, he looked up and said, “Try not to touch anything around the window. We're going to want to dust it for fingerprints.”

He pointed to the ground. “Here's your screen. It didn't jump out of the window by itself.”

“You think someone broke in?” She frowned.

“Looks that way to me. Sweet Thing, too, judging from her reaction.”

The dog was scratching and clawing at the screen. When Connor lifted it by a corner to keep her from shredding it completely, the dog leaped into the air to get to it. Connor had to hold it above his head to keep her from grabbing it.

Connor came back into the kitchen holding Sweet Thing's collar with one hand and the screen with the other. When he put the screen in the butler's pantry and closed the door, the dog became agitated.

“Why is she acting like that?” Daria frowned.

“I think she smelled something she didn't like,” Connor told her as he locked the back door. “Like maybe whoever handled that window.”

“You think he's gone? Whoever was in here?”

“Yes, but I think he's only recently gone. Like maybe he went out the back when he heard us coming in the front.”

“That's a pretty creepy thought. Not as creepy as thinking he might still be here, though.”

He closed and locked the window carefully. “We'll take a look through the house and double check just to make sure, and we can check to see if anything is missing.”

It took them a half an hour to go from room to room, but they found nothing disturbed. No one in the closets, no one under the beds, no one in the attic.

“Strange that someone would go to the trouble to break in to a house but not take anything,” Daria noted. “I wonder what he was looking for.”

Maybe not what, but who,
Connor couldn't help but think.

Connor went back into the kitchen where Daria's laptop sat on the table.

“Daria, do you remember what file you were working on today before we left for Centerville?”

“Was that really only this morning?” She blew out a long breath. “It seems like days ago now.”

“It sure does. But do you remember?” he persisted.

“Sure. I'd made a list of the artifacts that we thought we might have located, and where they might be.”

“You're positive?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you mind if I look at something on your computer?”

“Go right ahead.”

He sat at the table and pulled up Daria's documents. A few clicks of the mouse, and Connor was looking at the list. “Yes, this was the last file opened,” he nodded, “but it was last opened at 10:37
P.M.
”

“I wasn't here at…oh.” She sat in a chair across from Connor. “Someone else opened the file.”

“And someone else now knows where the rest of the artifacts are, if they didn't already know.”

“We're going to have to warn those people.” She looked at him with frightened eyes.

“I can take care of that right now.” He began to type. “Shit. I can't send e-mail from here. I forgot, you don't have Internet service here in the house.”

“Maybe you can send it from the library in the morning.”

“Maybe I can just call in the names right now.” He took out his cell phone.

“It's after midnight.”

“John Mancini seldom sleeps,” Connor said as the number began to ring. “John, hey, it's Connor. I've got something for you…”

It was another hour before Connor ended his call. Exhausted, Daria was half asleep, her head resting on the kitchen table, her eyes closed.

“Daria,” Connor whispered.

“I'm awake,” she told him. “I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.”

She sat up and yawned. “Did you give John all the names and addresses?”

“Yes. He'll take care of it.”

“Good. I hate the thought of anyone else being tortured like that.” She shuddered.

“We'll do everything we can to keep that from happening. In the meantime, you need to get some sleep. You look as if you're going to fall over.”

“That's exactly how I feel.” She looked at the old clock on the opposite wall. “But what about you? It's really late. How far is the motel from here? Do you still have your room?”

“I checked out this morning.”

“Then stay here. There are several guest rooms upstairs. I'm afraid there's no air-conditioning, so you won't be as comfortable as you would be at a motel, but it's a lot closer.”

“Hey, I sleep in tents, too, remember? There is no air-conditioning in most of the places I sleep.” He grinned. “And frankly, I would have slept on your front porch if I'd had to. There's no way I'd leave you alone here, knowing that someone has already broken into your house once tonight.”

“Do you really think he won't be back?”

“I really think he's done here.”
At least for now.

“Maybe we should call the police.” She paused in the doorway. “At least make a report.”

“I already told John. He agrees that the break-in here must be part of the whole picture. First thing in the morning, I'm going to see if I can lift prints off the windowsill and the screen. John's going to get someone from NSAF up here ASAP. And in the meantime, I think you need to get some sleep.”

Daria nodded. “I have a meeting with Louise at nine in the morning.” She waved for him to follow her, but first he rechecked the lock on the back door.

“I'll go look for some sheets for your bed,” Daria said, yawning as she made her way up the stairs, “if you wouldn't mind locking up down here.”

“Fair enough.” He checked all the windows, the basement door, and the front door before turning off the lamp on the table in the hall. As he climbed the steps to the second floor, he heard a low rumble. Looking up, he saw Sweet Thing on the top step, her ears back, her upper lip curled.

“Hey, girl. It's me. No need for that.” He held his hand out to her. “We're old friends, remember?”

“Who are you talking to?” Daria walked out of the room near the top of the steps.

“The dog forgot for a moment that we're buds,” Connor told her.

“She growled at you?”

“Yeah.”

“I think maybe you startled her. I don't think she would have attacked you.”

“I don't think she would either, but it's good to know her protective instincts are in full swing.”

“I have sheets for the bed in here, and if you'll give me a minute, I'll have the bed made for you.”

“Thanks, Daria, but don't bother. I can do that.”

“Really. It's no bother.”

He took the pile of sheets from her hands. “No bother for me, either. You're exhausted. Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks. I am pretty much wiped out. But I don't mind telling you I'll sleep better knowing you're here.” She stifled a yawn. “See you in the morning. Come on, Sweet Thing,” she called to the dog, who had positioned herself at the top of the steps once again.

Connor closed the door to the bedroom and stripped the white coverlet from the bed. From the room next door, he heard Daria talking to the dog, and he smiled to himself. She and the dog had taken to each other like long-lost friends, and there was no doubt in his mind that the dog would be a most protective guardian. Not that Connor had any intention of leaving Daria unprotected.

He finished making the bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. He noted gratefully that Daria had left several towels stacked on the side of the sink. He turned on the shower and stripped down. It had been a busy day, but his mind was still in overdrive and he had a lot to think about before getting into bed, including how to prolong his stay here at Howe. He turned down the hot water until it was almost off, and stood beneath the cold spray until his tanned skin was almost red. His head clear and his body cooled, he turned off the shower and wrapped one of the towels around his waist. Quietly, with only the light from the hall to guide him, he crossed the room and opened all three windows to the slight breeze that passed through the trees alongside the house. He peered out the window at the campus. He could see Louise's house and noted that it, too, was now in darkness. The student body was still on summer hiatus, and the campus was eerily quiet. Connor watched the shadows for a long time, but nothing moved. Still, he knew that somewhere out there was someone who knew a lot more about the treasures hidden in the museum's basement than he was supposed to.

From the beginning, Connor suspected that someone from the university was involved in the thefts. Now he had to wonder if that person was also a murderer.

The only thing Connor knew for certain was that he would not be leaving Howe until he found out.