Midnight Sun (9 page)

A rush of possession hit him, the same primal feeling that hit him first in Chuck’s house. “I think you are.”

Her face lit up. Good Lord, she was pretty—when she frowned, when she bit her lip, when she breathed—but most especially when she smiled. “Okay. In spite of what I said in the dr—
before
—I’m not a fan of inconsequential.” She grabbed a small basket and headed for the first food aisle.
 

 
He caught her around the waist. “And I’m not interested in inconsequential with you.” He grinned. “I’ve never dated a museologist.”

She shrugged. “It’s a lot like dating an archaeologist, but with eighty percent less dirt.”

He laughed and dropped a kiss on her lips. Amazing that she could make him laugh in this crazy situation, but then she made him feel all sorts of things he hadn’t expected when he arrived in Itqaklut to find the person who had tried to murder Chuck.

They separated to quickly grab staples to carry them through the next day or two, neither of them having a clue as to how long they’d be in town. They stopped at Chuck’s house to unload the groceries before heading to the storage facility, which was up the road from the tribal office building. Rhys had never been to the facility before, but Chuck had described it in detail. The cultural resources branch maintained an archaeology lab and storage facility in a rented building that was part of a small industrial park—or rather, as industrial as things got in Itqaklut. Just up the road from the town’s small power plant, the park was situated on a low rise a few miles above town on a stretch of dry land amidst marshy tundra. The treeless, relatively flat landscape meant Rhys could see the rooftops that marked the eastern edge of Itqaklut. Behind the industrial park, the land rose slowly with green hills that gave way to snow-covered ones in the distance.

The park consisted of three large buildings. The building closest to the road housed a CrossFit gym and storage-unit rental facility. The middle of the three buildings along the horseshoe-shaped drive housed a fishing-net manufacturing shop and the tribal cultural resources storage. The third building appeared to be vacant.

Today being a citywide holiday for the Midnight Sun Festival, the parking lot was empty, all businesses closed. “With the gym, there must be drop-in traffic—not just the same cars and coworkers every day. And who knows how often people visit their storage units,” Sienna said.

“Yeah. But the guys in the net shop might notice if someone other than Chuck showed up at the tribal facility.”

“Do you plan to question them?” she asked.

“I do. Chuck said they might be open tomorrow, unless they’re out all night with the street dance and midnight fireworks. Then our best bet will be to catch them on Friday.”

“Maybe we can find them at the street dance. Do you know their names?”

“No, Chuck couldn’t remember. They’re relatively new to the area.”

Sienna climbed out of the SUV and turned her face to the bright midday sun. “Won’t it be nearly this bright tonight for the fireworks display?”

Rhys circled the front of the vehicle to her side. “Chuck said they’re doing something new this year, a display designed for daylight viewing. The first of its kind was done a year or two ago, I forget where. The ‘fireworks’ are explosives packed with dyes to color the smoke, which will be shot to form different shapes, like rainbows. It’s supposed to look like watercolors in the sky. The explosives go off low to the ground. I’m eager to see it. As an ordnance disposal tech, I’m curious to see the setup.”
 

“It sounds amazing. I’m surprised Itqaklut can afford something like that.”

“They’re trying to build their tourist industry. When I first heard about the display, I’d considered coming up, but my caseload made it impossible.” He frowned. “I’m here now on emergency leave. As it is, I really need to find enough evidence to get the FBI interested in the next few days, or I’m going to have trouble at work. If we can prove your mask was stolen from here, it would solve both our career problems.”

“Let’s get started, then.” She tilted her head toward the rear of the SUV. “Bring the mask in, or not?”

They’d agreed it wouldn’t be wise to leave the mask at Chuck’s house after the break-in but hadn’t come to any decisions on what to do with it. Rhys cocked his head. “Is it telling you anything?”

“Not really. You?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it communicates with me like it does you. It pulled me into your dream. I doubt it could have entered my dreams without you being part of it. If that makes sense.”

“Well, it’s had months to get to know my brain, and it’s definitely gotten better at reaching me over time.” She circled to the back of Chuck’s SUV. “Shall we see if it’s heavy or light? Let that be our guide?”

He followed her and opened the rear door. “Works for me.” He lifted the box, but as it had been when he loaded it in the trunk earlier, it was neither heavy nor light. It was normal.

The very normalness of it gave him pause. Was he crazy for thinking the mask was some sort of possessed artifact? Maybe last night he’d been jet-lagged and susceptible to suggestion. Maybe the dream had just been a dream.
 

But Sienna knew his name. She’d learned it in the dream.

He frowned, thinking back to the flight from Anchorage. All the checked bags had been on a cart for pick-up directly on the tarmac, next to the airplane. His had a large tag, his name in bold letters. It was possible she’d seen the tag, and her subconscious had read it, maybe even seen him grab it from the rack.

It was possible they’d each had a separate sex dream, triggered by nothing more than proximity and desire.

He shook his head. “I
saw
the curator. In the dream,” he muttered. “And I recognized him on the street.”

Sienna’s eyes widened, and she stepped back. “You’re having doubts, aren’t you?”

“Did you see my bag at the airport?”

“I didn’t even see
you
at the airport.”

“And isn’t that strange? It was a small flight.”

“I was a little preoccupied with tanking my career because a damn artifact wouldn’t leave me alone. I wasn’t exactly eager to be visible. What’s going on, Rhys? You were able to accept it an hour ago.” She crossed her arms and stamped a foot in annoyance. “Hell, two minutes ago.”
 

“It’s hard to believe, when everything is so… normal. I don’t usually believe the impossible.”

She rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “I don’t know what normal feels like anymore.” There was hurt in her tone. She’d taken his doubt as rejection.

But then, maybe it was. “Sienna, this is new for me. Of course I’m going to ask questions. You have to admit, this situation is insane.”

Her chin tightened, and she turned away, heading toward the front door of the storage facility. She was taking his doubts harder than he would have expected. But then, he didn’t really know her, did he?

Hell, what if she knew his name not because she’d happened to glance at his name tag on a bag, but because she had an agenda, and it wasn’t to
return
the mask? She could have checked his wallet and seen his ID while he was sleeping. For all he knew, she’d slipped him a heavy-duty sleeping pill and he’d sleep-sexed. If people could sleep-drive, they could sleep-sex. Hell, sleep sex sounded way more plausible than sleep driving.

It had felt real because it
was
real.

He’d never checked her credentials, which was a damn rookie mistake. When he’d called the hospital this morning, Chuck had been busy with tests and hadn’t yet called back. Rhys had yet to ask Chuck about Sienna Aubrey.

Whoever she was, she’d just wormed an invitation into the storage facility to examine the collection. She could be here to cover up evidence of her crime, the supposedly haunted mask her ticket in the door.

He set the box in the back of the SUV and slammed the rear door closed. With both fists planted on the bumper, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, going over everything in his mind, looking for magician’s tricks that could have fooled him.

She’d planted the suggestion of the box being heavy by pretending to be unable to lift it. In contrast, when he picked it up, it had
seemed
extra light.

Hooks in the trunk of her car could have latched the box down, explaining why he couldn’t lift it later. All she’d need to do was slide it off the hooks as she lifted.

But the car would have bounced when he tried to lift it, if it had been stuck to the trunk. It hadn’t. Had it?

“You sonofabitch,” she said in a cold voice. “You’re thinking I’ve somehow conned you, aren’t you?”

He opened his eyes. She stood in the storage facility doorway with hands planted on her hips. Her amber eyes reflected both hurt and anger.

“I have to consider the possibility. Otherwise, what kind of an investigator would I be? I can’t rule you out simply because I want to screw you.”

“Last I heard, you aren’t an investigator, you’re a lawyer.”

He could understand why his suspicion hurt, but the fact that she couldn’t accept that he had doubts when everything about this was insane… That sort of pissed him off. “Investigating the crimes I prosecute people for committing is a large part of what I do. And I happen to be good at it.”

“I don’t need this crap. If you don’t trust me, search the damn artifact collection yourself. You wouldn’t want me tainting the evidence anyway.” She hitched her purse up on her shoulder and headed down the gravel driveway.

“It’s three miles to Chuck’s house from here.”

She glared at him over her shoulder, then turned back to the road. “I climb mountains for fun. I think I can handle three miles downhill.”

Rhys watched her walk away, completely at a loss. Was this argument some sort of manipulation by the mask, or had he been insane to believe her in the first place? The idea of a supernatural object controlling and communicating with him seemed utterly nuts in the bright light of midday. He couldn’t begin to fathom why he’d believed her.

The man he’d seen, the one who supposedly resembled the museum curator? His features had been generic. White male, tall, fifties, thinning gray hair. The description fit millions of men. And Rhys had been distracted by Sienna as she rubbed her body against his, doing everything she could to hinder him.

He couldn’t explain everything, but the more he thought about it, the more it appeared that Sienna Aubrey had played him. The question was: why?

B
lack rage. Pain. Remorse. Regret. Self-loathing. Could she feel worse about herself? Worse about Rhys? Worse about her small existence in the cosmos?

The answer was a decided no.

She hadn’t stormed off hoping he’d follow her. That wasn’t a game she played. No, she’d stormed off because the awful feelings repelled her. Or Rhys did. Like magnets with the same polarity. She’d
had
to leave.

Before the blackness of self-loathing consumed her.

She’d marched a few hundred yards when the blackness faded to storm-cloud gray. By the time she reached the chain-link fence that enclosed the power plant, the cloud lightened to simply gloomy. She came to a dead stop.

Oh crap.

Every negative reaction, every thought, every hostility, every unpleasant emotion she’d felt toward herself and Rhys had come from the mask. Only now as its grip lightened could she sense the tendrils of the mask’s psychic signature.

Why had the mask pushed her toward Rhys, then repelled her so completely? She’d been ready to hike all the way back to Chuck’s house, hop in her rental car, and drive to the airport. In the grip of the mask, she’d embraced the idea of never seeing Rhys again, but she’d been tricked. Driven away. Had the mask planted the seed of doubt in his mind to begin with?

Why?

The crack of a bullet broke the early afternoon silence.

She turned and sprinted back toward the industrial park.