Midnight Sun (12 page)

“Not if the storage shelves concealed it,” Rhys said.

“But earlier, when you were shot at, the shooter escaped through the back door, setting off the alarms, and when we searched, the shelves were all in place.”

Rhys explained to Archie about the shooting, then said, “What if they opened the back door, setting off the alarm, then escaped through their opening and pulled the shelves back? With the noise of the alarm, I’d never hear the moving shelves, and the area behind the office is hidden from the front aisle.”

“I never saw anyone outside, and no vehicles drove by. The landscape is so open, I’d have seen someone if they’d headed back toward town. It’s possible they were in the net shop, even while Officer Tourney searched the storage facility.”

Archie took a small sip of the scotch. Rhys figured the story of the shooting and potential thefts had broken through his restraint. “They could have parked their truck inside the shop,” Archie said. “No vehicle. No way of knowing if they were there at all.”

“It’s pretty damn blatant to cut a hole in the wall, even if it is rigged with shelves to hide it,” Sienna said. “All we’d have to do is find the opening, and we know who’s been stealing from the tribe.”

“Which explains why they went after Chuck once he noticed the thefts. They couldn’t risk him finding their entrance,” Rhys said.

“I’d tell you to call the police and have them search my shop, no search warrant necessary, but Tourney has shit for brains and resents Chuck because of Jana. Likely as not he’ll say rats cut the hole, or he’ll destroy the evidence trying to find it. You need to call in feds.”

“Because of the NAGPRA issues and a mask I’ve recovered that crossed state lines, this might fall under federal jurisdiction,” Sienna said. “The problem is, the inventory on the computer was corrupt, so I’ve been working from printouts, which haven’t been updated since before Jana Vaughan died. It’s hard to know what’s missing without an up-to-date inventory.”

“Tread carefully with Doug and Nick Pelligrew,” Archie said. “If they think you’re on to them, you’ll be in danger.”

“I’ll be careful,” Rhys said. “And I won’t let Sienna near the bastards. You need to be careful too. If they know you’ve been talking with us…”

“I shared a drink with my good friend Chuck’s cousin. Besides, there’s no law against a blind man having a gun.”

“That’s somewhat alarming,” Sienna said with a choked laugh. “But I’m glad you’ve got protection.”

“I’ve got pictures of them in the personnel paperwork. Gimme a sec and I’ll grab the file.” He disappeared belowdeck, his agile steps making Rhys question both his professed age and blindness. Minutes later, he returned with a thick manila folder, which he dropped on the table in front of Rhys. “My daughter files the taxes for the business and said the boys’ references checked out. Not sure what’s in this file, but this is what I have.”

Rhys flipped open the folder, searching for photocopies of the Pelligrews’ photo IDs. He jolted when he found it and turned the page toward Sienna.

She gasped. “Doug Pelligrew was at the diner this morning. Staring at me.”

Chapter Eight

B
ack in the car, Sienna leaned against the seat and took a deep, calming breath. “We need to go back to the storage facility.” Just the thought sent shivers up her spine, but they had to know if there was a secret entry between the two businesses.
 

Rhys squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’m sorry. I’d drop you at Chuck’s house and go by myself, but I think we need to stick together.”

She nodded. “If we find an opening, do we call the police?”

He tapped the steering wheel. “I’ll call the FBI. The agent in Seattle gave me a contact in Anchorage.
 
I think you’re right about this theft falling under their jurisdiction.”

“I’ve heard artifact theft can be deeply tied to drug smuggling—artifacts are often more portable than cash and can quickly be sold at the back end.”

“Yeah. It’s possible organized crime is involved. The US Attorney up here might be able to go after them under RICO.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking… Is it possible Adam Helvig and the museum in Tacoma is some sort of artifact laundry?
 
Would it be possible for him to provide false papers that made the artifact ‘clean’ so it could be sold on the open market?”

Excitement built in her gut. A low hum that grew steadily louder. “Maybe it’s the mask talking, but I think that’s it. The Pelligrews stole the artifacts and delivered them to Helvig. Helvig’s job was to hold on to them for a few months, clean the provenance, then deaccession them through the museum’s process. He knew it was stolen, which is why he freaked when I included it with the NAGPRA items. And that’s why he hasn’t reported it stolen. He could destroy me for taking that mask, but as far as we know, he’s done zilch except follow me here. He must have tipped off the Pelligrews that I took the mask and flew to Itqaklut. Simple enough to email a photo and tell them to keep an eye out for me.”

Rhys nodded. “Would a mask like that be worth enough money for him to risk reputation and career?”

“The short answer? Yes. With a clean provenance and cleared of the NAGPRA process, I don’t really know, but my guess is, it could be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars to a wealthy collector. With rare exceptions, because of NAGPRA, prehistoric artwork like the mask has essentially been removed from the legal antiquities market, making the items that
are
available ten times more valuable. If Adam Helvig is running an artifact laundry through the museum, he’s found a very lucrative sideline and could well be working with the organized black market trade.”

“No wonder the Pelligrews were so quick to try to kill Chuck. They’d screwed up and overworked a source. If the trafficking were exposed, they’re cogs and immediately expendable.”

Another shudder ran through her. The agony of the bullet had been brief but memorable. “I’m scared, Rhys.”

He nodded. “Me too. I think being scared is wise.”

On the way to the industrial park, they passed no fewer than three electricians working on the power lines. Apparently the Midnight Sun Festival was hell on the power grid—not surprising given that the town was packed to the gills. “Have I thanked you recently for offering me a place to stay last night?”

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “It’s been my pleasure.”

His low words combined with the touch of his lips caused her belly to flutter. She so wanted this intense attraction to be real.

He pulled into the circular drive in front of the industrial park. As before, the lot was deserted. It was a beautiful summer night, the low light of the sun glinted off the snow-covered hills far behind the low industrial buildings.

“Are there motion detectors inside the storage facility?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. Since it’s windowless and has only two doors, I think the tribe figured the only risks were the exits.”

Sienna studied the roll-up door for the net shop. It was entirely possible Doug and Nick Pelligrew had parked their truck in the shop. Like the tribal storage facility, there were no windows, no way to peer inside; windows meant heat loss, and they had a big garage door they could open on a rare hot day. They could be inside now, but it was past ten in the evening, and odds were they were at the festival.

“I don’t think they’re here,” Rhys said.

“The mask hasn’t messed with my emotions to stop us from entering. Let’s go for it.”

Rhys nodded and unlocked the door. Together they paced the wall the tribal office shared with the net shop, looking for signs a shelf had been moved.

Rhys spotted it at the same moment Sienna did, a thin arc-shaped line cut into the linoleum, as if a hinged door—or rather, shelf—had been dragged across the floor, repeatedly.

He tugged at the shelf. It didn’t budge. An inspection of the bottom showed it rested on low feet lined with felt. The line in the floor arced away from a slightly bent foot—which explained the gouge in the linoleum. The shelf
should
move, unless it was mounted to the wall. It could be a case of earthquake proofing…or it served as a door that was latched on the other side.

“A simple latch on the net-shop side would make it impossible to open,” Sienna said. “That would keep Chuck from stumbling across the opening.”

“Agreed. If we break down the shelf to get to the wall and find an opening, we wouldn’t only destroy evidence, we’d also let them know we’re on to them. I think this is enough evidence to warrant a call to the Anchorage FBI agent. I’m fairly certain he’ll come out and investigate. Between the mask, the list of missing artifacts, Chuck’s poisoning, this scrape mark, and Archie’s statement about the Pelligrew boys stealing from him, there’s enough cause for an investigation.”

Relief fluttered through Sienna’s system. “Does this mean we’re done? I can hand the mask over and go home?”

“We’ll have to see what the FBI says, and it’ll probably be a day or two before they get here, but after that, yeah, I think so. Except”—Rhys pulled her into his arms—“we have a street dance to go to. A fireworks display to watch.” He nuzzled her neck. “And a dream to finish.”

“I vote for a different order. Dream first, then street dance and fireworks.”

“Works for me.”

They were halfway to the front door when she heard a loud popping sound, then the lights went out.

Chapter Nine

W
ithout windows, the storage room was pitch-dark. Sienna was certain even Archie could see more than she could in the black, cavernous storage room.

“That sounded like a transformer blew,” Rhys said. “Could be an ordinary blackout. The system was stressed.”

“I don’t think it is,” she said. She could barely hear her own words over the rapid pounding of her heart. “This doesn’t feel right.”

He squeezed her hand. “Is the mask telling you something?”

“I-I think so.” There was no need to close her eyes against the darkness, but she did anyway, as she always did when she reached out to the mask. In her mind, she could see outside the building. Adam Helvig jammed a crowbar into the seal around the back door of Chuck’s SUV and popped the hatch open.

She told Rhys what she saw. “It’s happening now,” she added, certain to her core this wasn’t an alternate dimension, that right this moment Adam was twenty yards away and breaking into the truck.

“I think… I think the mask triggered the blackout,” she said. “To stop us from confronting Helvig. But why didn’t it want us to stop him?”

All at once, she was pitched into a vision, Rhys with her. As before, this vision seemed to be an alternate dimension. A different now in the multiverse. In this world, Rhys stepped out of the building as he would have without the blackout. Unknowing. Unguarded.

Adam startled and swung the crowbar blindly before Rhys had a chance to pull his pistol. He took the blow to the head and dropped.
 

She’d followed Rhys out the door, and her world spun as she watched blood pool under his temple, running in rivers between the jagged gravel of the lot. She screamed and fell to her knees by Rhys’s body, weeping.

Adam loomed above her, bloody crowbar in hand. His face registered horror even as he pulled back the bar, building momentum for a swing at her. He hesitated at the far end of the arc. Sienna grabbed Rhys’s pistol, flicked the safety, and fired as he swung. The iron bar grazed her temple—painful, but minor compared to the blow Rhys had taken.