by Casi McLean
“Good.” He swung the arm to the side then returned the treasure to Sydney. “Can you get away this Friday, or would you need a few more days to arrange the trip?”
She hated to leave Noah, but between his practice and BW, he’d be too busy to even notice she left. And Luke could handle anything that might come up at work. But what if the people chasing BW still had the house staked out. “I should mention Noah and I had a bit of a run-in with some not-so-friendly adversaries when we visited our property a few days ago.”
Clay scowled. “Oh, my? What happened?”
Syd recounted the story, leaving out only minor details.
“And you’re sure these thugs wanted to harm the girl?” He jotted down something on a notepad.
“I assume so. Noah and I had never been to the property before. Besides, no one knew we were there except my assistant.” Sensing his scribbles had something to do with her story, Syd strained to see his notes, but his penmanship fell far short of legible. “I’d check in with the Sharon police, but after what happened, one or more members of the local law enforcement might be involved in the shooting incident.”
“Interesting. We should take some precautions.”
“I agree. When will you be available?”
“If you don’t mind spending your weekend appeasing an old man’s curiosity, we could leave Friday afternoon.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m having dinner with Jack Duncan at the Palm tonight. He’s the colleague I spoke of a few minutes ago. Jack is an expert in the field of time-dating archeologic relics. Perhaps you’d like to join us? He’s only in town for a few days and I’d love to get his opinion on your talisman.”
“Dinner?”
Again, he chuckled. “Yes, you know, the evening meal? I’d like Jack to examine the piece before we leave.”
“Yes, of course.” Having someone else examine her artifact would validate Trent’s conclusion––and her curiosity. But she wanted to see BW, too. “What time? I told Noah I’d check on our patient this evening.”
“We’re meeting at the restaurant at 7:30 p.m. Why don’t you just meet us there? And don’t forget to bring your amulet.”
Syd turned toward the door then paused and peered at Trent over her shoulder. “Thanks again. I know you’re a busy man and I truly appreciate you taking the time to advise me.”
“You are very welcome, Sydney. If my instincts serve me well, you might have quite a find on your hands.” He slid into his desk chair then shoved aside a pile of paperwork and grabbed his notepad.
“See you in a few hours,” Sydney called out as the door gently closed behind her.
❋
By the time Syd stopped by the office, returned emails, caught up on her case load, and talked with Luke, it was already 5:45. Thankful she kept a closet in the back room filled with clothing for all occasions, she changed into a more suitable royal-blue dress and touched up her makeup. She snatched a small, black leather clutch and slipped the amulet, two credit cards, and some cash into the zipper pouch, then dropped her phone inside the bag and dashed out the door to her Lexus.
Waiting for the elevator, she noticed the time, 6:38 p.m. She’d have to make her visit with Noah quick––again. The last few days had been such a whirlwind she’d scarcely had time to process. Syd and Noah kept no secrets, but between his disappearance/accident, BW’s health issues, the Mafia-like shootout, the helicopter, and taking care of BW on the flight home, she hadn’t even thought about the amulet. Now, she couldn’t wait to tell him about the old stone chamber on the Connecticut property and her meeting with Uncle Clay.
She pushed open the door of BW’s room.
Noah turned to face her. “Wow. You dress up well, kiddo. Hot date tonight?”
She gave him a quick hug. “I have so much to tell you.” She peered at BW. “But first, how is she?”
He shook his head. “No change. So, what’s your big news?”
“You know how chaotic everything has been since I found you in Sharon, right?”
“An absolute whirlwind, why?”
“Because I feel weird that I didn’t tell you about this sooner.”
“Tell me what?” His eyebrows pinched together. “Spit it out, Syd.”
“When I was searching for you, I discovered an old stone structure, like a root cellar. And when I looked inside…” She opened her black bag and drew out the amulet then spread open her hand, palm up to reveal her find. “I found this.”
Chapter 17
“We’ll be cruising at an altitude around thirty-five thousand feet and should arrive at Reagan International a few minutes early. I switched off the seatbelt light so feel free to move around the cabin…”
The pilot’s voice melded into the whir of the engines as Syd watched the Atlanta skyline fade into the distance. En route to Washington DC, she sifted through the last two weeks, organizing the timeline to make sense of the domino effect now controlling her life.
The strange inheritance from Aunt Becky last month triggered the chain of events, but when Noah left for Connecticut last week, their lives catapulted into a whirlwind of mystery, malaise, and mayhem. How long would BW remain in a medically induced coma? And what could have caused her memory condition? Regardless, Noah had her health covered. Sydney need only to focus on the woman’s identity and the thugs who wanted her dead––and the amulet, of course.
When Noah heard about Jack Duncan’s fame as a worldwide expert on ancient relics and the extent of the man’s interest in the amulet, his curiosity skyrocketed. He encouraged Sydney to do whatever was necessary to follow up. So, instead of traveling to Sharon, Connecticut with Clay on Friday, she found herself on the first flight to Washington D.C. Thursday morning.
In an unusual turn of events, the trip happened to coincide with Jules’ FBI meeting. She couldn’t have scheduled a get-together better had she planned the agenda herself. She’d spend Thursday with Jack Duncan, Friday with Jules then Saturday morning, she’d fly to Sharon, Connecticut to meet with Trent. A bit hectic, but doable.
Duncan would meet her at a Starbucks close to the Smithsonian Institute at 10:00 a.m. The museum was only a few blocks away. He’d use state-of-the-art equipment to help date-test her amulet. Could it really be an authentic ancient artifact? The thought shot goosebumps down her arms and legs––the same sensation she felt every time a new case fell into place. The thrill of discovery trumped a grueling schedule every time.
After a two-hour flight, the plane landed at Reagan International. The airport, located on the Virginia side of the Potomac, was just across the river from the Smithsonian Institution’s offices. Syd took an Uber across the George Mason Bridge to Fourteenth Street, and a few moments later, the driver pulled to a stop in front of the Starbucks.
When she opened the car door, Duncan stood and strolled toward her.
“Ten minutes early. I’m impressed. But you really didn’t have to come all the way to Washington. I assure you I deal with artifacts every day and I can honestly say I’ve never lost or broken a single one.” He chuckled.
Jack looked the part. An Indiana Jones look-alike, complete with sandy-blond tussled hair, khaki pants, and a navy-blue collared shirt. What was it about him––his physique… dashing good looks… or witty attitude––that sent a warm tingle through her core? She broke a slight smile. “It’s not you, Jack. I can’t explain why, but I just have a strange feeling I need to keep the amulet in my possession.”
He threw splayed hands upward and angled his head. “Far be it for me to challenge a gut feeling.” He gestured toward the cashier. “Can I get you some coffee, or are you ready to go to the lab?”
“I’m good. I had more than enough caffeine on the flight.”
“Do you have additional luggage or just the one bag?”
“This is it. I travel light.”
“Good. Then let’s go. My car is around the corner.” He paced toward the parking lot.
Confused, Syd questioned his directions. “I thought yo
u needed to use equipment at the Smithsonian. Isn’t the museum just a block or two away?”
“Yes. But we’re not going to the museum. The Smithsonian Conservation Institute in Hillcrest Heights, Maryland houses the high-tech, state-of the-art instrumentation I need to time-date the amulet. There are several tests I’d like to run.” He approached a small Kia Soul, clicked his key fob then opened the passenger side door for Sydney.
An electric car. Why was she not surprised? She slid into the seat then placed her bag between her feet.
Jack closed her door then shot around the car and hopped into the driver seat.
“I wasn’t expecting a road trip. Maybe I should change my hotel reservations to a closer location?”
“The Conservation Institute isn’t that far. If the amulet is a fake, I’ll know right away, and I can swing back to the airport so you can catch a flight home this afternoon.” He raised his brows and shot her a gaze. “But… if my suspicions are correct, I’ll want to run a series of tests, which might take the rest of the day and most of tomorrow.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter and returned his attention to the road. “I took the liberty of making reservations for you at the Holiday Inn Woods Corner… it’s close to the Beltway and only a few minutes’ drive from the Institute. Then I’ll take you to the airport Saturday morning in time for your flight. You are still planning on meeting Trent in Sharon, Connecticut, Saturday, right?”
“Yes… I…” She stared. Even if the trinket was authentic, surely it wasn’t that important, was it? “You really think my amulet could be a significant find, don’t you?” She watched his body language as if she was observing a suspected criminal. His gaze never lowered. No fidgeting or slumping. His interest was genuine.
“I’ve never seen a piece quite like yours, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I inspected it the other night at The Palm. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, yet, but your artifact could date quite old––and my instincts are usually spot on.”
Syd dropped her jaw. To gather her composure, she turned briefly toward the passenger window. “You obviously love your job.” Gaze returning to Jack, she continued. “What sparked your interest in ancient relics?”
No doubt encouraged by her questions, he elaborated with tales from his past. His archeologist parents dragged him through more digs than he cared to count. But it wasn’t until he decided to emulate them, digging at the far corner of an excavation site in East Yorkshire, England, that he uncovered an Iron Age warrior shield. He was twelve at the time, but that find hooked him for life.
Mesmerized by his stories, Syd was surprised the half-hour drive to the institute simply blinked by. Expecting to be amazed by the technology, she felt underwhelmed when they entered the building, but the laboratories fascinated her with analytical instrumentation she not only failed to pronounce properly, she had no concept of the breadth and scope the equipment achieved. Radiography was the only time-dating method she’d heard of, so she simply sat back, listened to Jack, and watched in awe as he performed his magic with expertise.
After hours of intense scrutiny, Jack sat back into his chair and took several long breaths before speaking. “I’ve got something.”
Sydney stood and paced toward him. “What did you find? Is my jewel authentic?”
“Look through this scope.”
She edged closer and peered into the eyepiece.
He encircled his arms around her to share the space. “Do you see this tiny dark spot on the lower right side?”
“Yes…it looks like a spec of dirt. What are you seeing that I don’t?”
“That dot, my dear Sydney, is a bone fragment.” An ear-to-ear grin splashed over his face and a technical dissertation spilled from his lips. “We can’t carbon-date metal or stone, only carbon-based material like wood, bones, shells, leather…but we can use radiometric dating based on the decay of––” He paused and stared into her eyes. “I’m confusing you. Sorry. I tend to talk shop when I get excited.”
His exhilaration was contagious. She had no idea why a tiny piece of bone electrified him, but the surge passed into her. “You’re fine. Just give me the condensed version.”
“I need to run several more tests tomorrow, but so far I’ve determined the sapphire stone was originally encircled by an intricate bone detail. I was able to carbon date a bone fragment from the ring, which would tag your artifact as authentic Celtic, fashioned roughly three thousand years ago. But the pristine condition mystifies me… this amulet is … virtually timeless.
Chapter 18
“Doctor Monaco, please call the 5A nurses’ station STAT.” The unusual request echoed through the hospital PA system. Typically, nurses texted or called doctors to inform them of a change in a patient’s condition. Noah reached into his lab coat pocket and grabbed his phone. Staring at the screen, he scrolled through several new messages. Damn. He’d only spent fifteen minutes tops in the locker room for a much-needed shower. “What now?” he mumbled to himself and stepped into the elevator. Spinning to face the doors, he pressed 5 then read his messages.
When he saw Micah Miller’s name light up his screen, he immediately answered. “Micah… hang on a sec… I’m in an elevator… do you hear me?”
“Noah. Are you there?”
When the doors opened, he turned into the fifth-floor lobby and strolled toward the windows. “Can you hear me now?”
She chuckled. “Yes. I’m sorry. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all. Tell me something good.”
“Come to the nurse’s station, and I will.”
“What?” His pulse kicked up a notch as he edged from the foyer window to the hall. “You’re here… at Emory?” He picked up his pace, striding toward Intensive Care.
Micah lowered her phone and smiled. “In the flesh.”
“You could have given me a head’s-up.”
“And deprive myself of that look on your face?” She grinned. “Not a chance.”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Well, I’m not one for surprises, but it’s great to see you.”
“You know me, Noah. Conventional has never been my thing.”
“I do.” He nodded. “So, are you here on business or did you just decide you needed a change of scenery?”
“Your case intrigues me. I’d like to see this woman face-to-face… and Atlanta’s weather this time of year beats Montana’s.” She let out a brief laugh and scanned the room. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you didn’t register your patient as Jane Doe, but I don’t see your name as attending physician on any of the doors. You did say she’s in the Intensive Care Unit, right? Where is she?”
He hitched his head then strolled toward BW’s room. “After what happened, registering her under my name might put her in danger. So, I used an alias.” He halted at the door. “Before we go in, tell me a bit more about how you create a portfolio using Forensic DNA Phenotyping and EvPro’s technology.”
Micah leaned against the wall. “Sure. Usually, I take the information the DNA provides and, using genetic and epigenetic clues along with crime scene evidence, I draw a portrait then embellish. the face with various hairstyles and possible facial hair typical to the generation and region. Afterward, I piece together details like age, height, and body build to complete the portrait.”
He rubbed his chin. “As I recall, you’re a damn good artist.”
A smile curled the edges of her lips. “Thanks. Drawing relaxes me… it keeps my fingers occupied. Ever since I was a child, I’ve sketched to keep my brain busy. When my career demands I wait around idly for someone or something, I sketch the situation or crime scene. I can’t count the times the habit has led to the creation of composite portraits that cracked a case.”
“I remember you always had a pencil in hand during college lectures, doodling amazingly accurate portraits of someone in the room.”
She nodded and pushed off the wall. “I’d like to sketch her, if you don’t mind. Maybe I
can see some detail you might have missed.”
“Of course.” Micah’s brown hair and eyes caught Noah’s attention the first time he met her. Pretty… but not beautiful… and natural. She was tall and slender, and her clear complexion softened her square jaw and slightly large nose. He rarely saw her wear make-up or dress up. Typically sporting dark slacks and a plain shirt, Micah had an air of confidence that Noah found attractive. She was honest and real, with no patience for fake, girly-girls or pompous jocks.
“By the way, I entered your patient’s DNA into the genetic database for a possible relative match…and damned if I didn’t get a hit.”
“Seriously? Why didn’t you just call me?”
“I thought I’d tell you in person. The reverse DNA match is a long shot, Noah, and my talents are better served sketching your patient. Maybe someone will recognize the girl from my drawing. Besides, I figure as an investigative reporter, Sydney’s friend, Julie Crenshaw’s follow up resources would reach further than mine, so I emailed her the match and hopped on a flight.”
“I hope my case didn’t pull your attention away from anything important.”
“Not at all. I heard the anxiety in your voice when you called, and I want to help. So, will you let me take a look at this elusive woman?”
“Of course.” He turned the knob and pushed open the door. The slow, steady beep-beep-beep of BW’s heart monitor hummed in the background like white noise as he approached her bed.
“I don’t want to wake her.” Micah inched closer, studying BW with a probing gaze.
“I do.” Waking BW would finally validate Noah’s diagnosis.
“Wait. Did I miss something?” Micah whispered.
“You don’t have to keep your voice down. She’s in a medically induced coma.” He leaned in to check her vitals.
With a confused stare, Micah turned to face him. “Why? I mean, I remember you said she took a bullet and lost a lot of blood, but that was three or four days ago. Why did you put her into a coma?”
