Looking up, Alyssa waved her over, tucking her shoulder-length, espresso-colored hair behind her ears. “Hi, what brings you here?”
Relief rippled through Veronica. Nope. She felt no jealousy. Just pride at her sister’s accomplishments.
It would take more than a few tablets and a letter to convince her skeptical sister to believe in the myth theory or get her to help. But she had to try. More than two years ago, her gut told her she was right, and she’d presented her paper based not just on her evidence but also on her instinct that she was on to something. Something important.
Anger, betrayal and shame had made her walk away…until Simon walked through her door. Now every fiber of her being called to her. Begged her to continue the work she’d abandoned.
There was no way she could ignore the call. Not now. She only hoped Alyssa would help her. Prove that, for once, her instincts were right.
Then, there’d be nothing holding her back but Simon and his desire to search for the Midas Stone without her.
And she didn’t plan to give him much of a choice in the matter. He needed her and she’d use that to her advantage.
“This.” Walking over to Alyssa, she handed her sister Simon’s leather backpack. “There’s something I want you to see.”
Alyssa’s green eyes flared with curiosity. “Okay.” Opening the pack, she pulled out both the files and the metal box.
“Start with that.” Veronica pointed toward the container that held the mouse. No point in delaying the inevitable argument. Despite the energy running through her body, she forced herself to remain immobile while Alyssa unwrapped the artifact with deft fingers.
Her sister’s eyes widened as the mouse glittered under the fluorescent lighting. “Wow. It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”
Veronica took a deep breath, knowing that her sister would not approve of what was coming next. “From a new associate. He claims it was once alive. Turned to gold by an artifact called the Midas Stone”
Alyssa’s jaw tightened, and the wonder left her face. “Really.”
Veronica continued, ignoring the doubt and sarcasm that tinged her sister’s voice. “If he’s right, it’ll prove my theory.”
“About myths, reality, and all that nonsense?” Alyssa dropped the mouse back into the foam padding, closed the lid and shoved the box back into Simon’s pack. “Take it somewhere else.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Veronica clasped her hands together, frustration and patience warring inside her for control. “I’m still rebuilding my career. If he’s wrong, my reputation will never recover. I need someone who can keep this quiet until I know the truth.”
Alyssa crossed her arms across her chest, unappeased. “Then let it go.”
Frustration won and Veronica slapped the tabletop with the flat of her palm. “Damn it, Alyssa. This is big. Bigger than your preconceptions. For once, can’t you just believe?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
Alyssa flipped her hair over her shoulder with a sharp jerk of her head. “For once, could you stay grounded in reality?”
“Reality? Ha! What do you—” Veronica cut off the retort before she said something she couldn’t take back. Slowly, she took a deep breath to calm herself, held it, then let it go, all the while ignoring Alyssa’s hostility.
For once, she wished she could make her sister feel the ache that consumed her when her gut told her she was onto something big—something that could astound the science community and set the world on its ear.
She massaged her temple with her hand. Alyssa was not about possibilities. She was about facts. In her world, little room existed for a stone with transmutational abilities.
But there was room for a sister in need of help.
“Alyssa, I know you don’t believe, and I’m not asking you to. But I need your support. Please. You’re the only one I trust.”
Alyssa gave her a sharp look.
Veronica met her steady, unflinching stare with one of her own. “Just run the tests and let me know. That’s all. There’s more in the folder.”
She spun on her heel and headed for the elevator, leaving the pack behind, knowing her sister would do as she asked despite her protests. They might disagree, but they never let each other down. Not when it came to the important issues.
“You leave and I swear I’ll pitch it out the window,” Alyssa threatened.
Veronica stopped midstep. Alyssa might be three years younger than her own twenty-nine years, but she was just as stubborn.
“If this associate is telling the truth, what do you plan to do? Go with him on some harebrained expedition in search of some legend?”
Veronica turned back around.
The backpack straps clenched in her fist, Alyssa waited for a reply.
Slowly, Veronica walked back to the cold, dark lab table that separated her from her sister. Alyssa could be so frustrating, and the childish urge to bait her was almost overwhelming. “Considering? Yes. Decided? No. That’ll depend on what you find.”
Giving Veronica a sideways glance, Alyssa dropped the backpack onto the table. It landed with a dull thud. “You know Mom and Dad wouldn’t approve of you running off to prove a theory that’s unsound, at best.”
Veronica rolled her eyes at the undisguised admonishment. When her parents were field archaeologists, they were a bit more open-minded. Then four years ago, when Veronica began her graduate studies, they both settled down, taking professorships at Columbia University in the Department of Art History and Archaeology. It was a good move. A smart move. A financially sound move. But it had changed them. Made them more cautious—especially when Veronica had a penchant for working in the more uninhabited regions of Turkey. More than once, her father had asked her to take a stateside job.
Sometimes, when the thought of a twelve-hour trek to reach civilization made her want to cry, she wished she was in the U.S. Maybe even staying in a nice hotel that was close to a site.
But it wasn’t in her. The U.S. was too…safe.
“Nice try. Did you learn the ‘guilt Veronica’ trick from Mom?”
“It’s not guilt. It’s true.”
“Which is why you won’t tell them.”
Alyssa cast her another narrow, green-eyed stare. “If they ask, I will.”
Veronica wondered if Alyssa was as serious as she sounded. As much as they argued, they’d always covered for each other. Kept each other’s secrets despite the occasional war of wills. She hoped that this would not be the exception.
Then tell Alyssa about last night, her conscience whispered. Veronica ignored the nagging urge to blurt out her encounter with Michael. If Alyssa knew about it, her mothering instinct would kick into overdrive and there’d be no way she’d help.
“They won’t. Unless you mention it. So don’t. At least until we know for sure and I make a decision. Until then, there’s no reason worrying them over nothing.”
Alyssa raised a brow then yanked the container back out of the pack and pulled out the mouse. “I’ll think about it.”
Veronica tried to hide her displeasure, but knew that if Alyssa said she’d think about it then that was what she’d do, and there would be no dissuading her. There was simply the waiting to hear the decision.
Veronica frowned. “Fine. Do me a favor? Let me know ahead of time if you decide to tell them. I don’t want to get ambushed at dinner.”
“Agreed.” An oversize magnifying glass was bolted to the table, and Alyssa swung it over, using its extendable arm. Holding the metallic rodent on her palm, she scrutinized the tiny statue. “He says this was once alive?”
“That’s the story.” Veronica pushed the envelope with the CAT scan film toward her. “You might as well see these now. It should help.”
Alyssa pushed the magnifying glass away and set the mouse down. Opening the envelope, she slid out the film sheets and held them up to the light. Her eyes widened again, but she made no more comments.
&nbs
p; After a few minutes, she waved the images at Veronica. “These might be forged.”
Veronica picked the mouse up again, still stunned by its complexity. A part of her wanted this to be real. The other part, probably the smarter half, wanted it to be a lie. “I know. That’s why I need you to run whatever tests you can to either prove or disprove its authenticity.”
“Fine.” Alyssa gave a curt nod.
Exhaling in relief, Veronica let her shoulders drop. “How long before you know if the mouse is an exquisite piece of ancient art or if it were once a living, breathing creature?”
Putting the slides back in their envelope, Alyssa sat in front of her computer. “Let me check my calendar. I can move some things around,” she said grudgingly.
“Thanks.”
Impatiently, Veronica waited as her sister punched in numbers and talked to herself. She glanced around the room. It was a well-equipped facility. There was no denying the fact. Spectrometer. An imaging room big enough to fit a mummy. Five kinds of microscopes.
After a few minutes, Alyssa pushed back from the desk. “I’m analyzing some pottery shards for the Incan project being run out of the University of North Carolina, but I’m ahead of schedule so I can move it back a day or two. If I work this weekend, I should be able to get you results by Sunday.”
Veronica tapped her foot with impatience. “Can you get me the basics faster? Just an internal imaging-and-density test?”
Alyssa leaned back in her computer chair, arms crossed over her chest. “Why even bother with this? You lost your chance at a Ph.D. and destroyed your reputation because of this theory. Wasn’t that enough? Why dredge it all up again?”
Why bother? “You did your graduate thesis on the Mayans. If you had the chance to prove that one of their legendary artifacts was real, wouldn’t you jump at the opportunity?”
“No, and this isn’t about me. It’s about you going off on some half-assed adventure with a man who showed up at your office this morning.” Concern shone from her eyes. “Do I have to remind you of Brazil?”
Veronica’s cheek heated with embarrassment and frustration. It was bad enough being a fool for Michael but worse that Alyssa brought it up, reminding her of her bad judgment. “Even you thought Michael was a good guy,” she replied, defensive before she could stop herself.
Alyssa continued. “That’s my point. We knew him for years, and he fooled us. You just met this man.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know how bad the prison was.”
“It was a jail. Not a prison,” Veronica corrected.
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Call it whatever you want. You can lie to others but not me. You were half out of your mind when I got you out.” She took Veronica’s hand in hers. “I can bribe jail officials. Money is not the issue. If this artifact is what you say, it’s more valuable than money. Don’t go with him. Please.”
Veronica squeezed her fingers, knowing Alyssa worried because she loved her, but that didn’t change the circumstances. “I can’t turn down projects because they might be dangerous.”
“This is more than dangerous.” Alyssa let go and sat back, her expression stern. Veronica knew she was going to get a lecture. “You’re the older sister. You’re supposed to be the sensible one. I shouldn’t have to wait by the phone every time you go on assignment, knowing that if it rings, it’s you, caught up in some disaster. I don’t want to keep saving you.”
Veronica held her temper. She loved Alyssa, but she could be so frustrating when she got safer-than-thou. “I haven’t talked myself into going, and you saved me once. That’s it. It’s not as if I walk into disaster on a regular basis. I’m not some screwup that you have to keep tabs on in case I need rescuing.”
“Once was plenty for me. I thought it was enough for you as well.” Alyssa took a deep breath, but her jaw tightened. “Do you ever think about what would have happened if Ian hadn’t given me the money to buy your freedom?”
Veronica squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, remembering the fear. The humiliation. Waking up at night, wondering if the guard was going to do more than touch her breasts. She’d considered herself lucky she wasn’t raped. It was probably only a matter of time.
Damn Michael!
She blinked open her eyes, refusing to give in to the memories. “Every day.”
Unappeased, Alyssa shook her head. “If this is real, you’re going, aren’t you?”
She couldn’t lie. Alyssa would see through it. “Yes.”
Alyssa sighed with resignation, her jaw softening. “Promise me that you’ll think about what I’ve said.”
“I will,” Veronica promised, managing a small smile. It was hard to stay angry when she knew Alyssa’s reaction came from love and worry.
Once, or if, the mouse was authenticated, they’d be arguing again. Until then, there was no point in being angry at each other. She turned away and pushed the button to call the elevator back. The doors slid open with a chime.
“Veronica?”
She hesitated.
“Even if it’s all true. If the mouse is real. The legend. Everything. You won’t be able to trust him. Not with this kind of potential power at stake.”
“I never said that was part of the bargain.” Veronica stepped inside the elevator, and the doors slid shut.
“This is about the dumbest damn thing you have ever done,” Veronica muttered.
She stood on Joseph Connelly’s porch, arguing with herself. After leaving the mouse with Alyssa, she meant to go home, drink a glass of merlot, unwind her thoughts from the events of the past twenty-four hours and catch up on much-needed sleep.
Instead, she had driven to upstate New York and now stood here wanting to speak to her ex-colleague and mentor. What was happening was important, and while Joseph might decide to walk away, he deserved the right to choose.
Blinking back sudden tears, she wished Chris were alive so she could offer him the same opportunity.
Nervous, she clenched and unclenched her hands. God, she missed them both. Missed their friendship. Couldn’t count the times she’d wanted to talk to them. Get advice. Give it.
She remembered their parting. Joseph and Chris had met with her at the Columbia University lab and told her about their decision to stop the research on the myths. Joseph was getting old and could not risk his tenure. Chris had a wife and small child and couldn’t risk their security.
She was so angry. She’d said some terrible things. Didn’t understand. Still didn’t, but now she respected their decision. Which was why, despite the fiasco and the self-enforced silence, she was here.
She raised her hand to knock and stopped herself, remembering her heated words. Accusations. “Stupid,” she muttered again. He wouldn’t want to see her. Not now.
“Just stupid.”
She turned to go. The door opened.
Joseph Connelly stood in the doorway, much as she remembered him. Steel-gray hair cut short and over his ears. Deep furrows on his brow and wrinkled hands revealed his seventy-plus years. But his blue eyes were still young and still twinkled with a curiosity that made him the legend he’d become.
The speech she’d rehearsed on the way over fell out of her head. Veronica asked herself why she had waited so long to return.
Feeling as shy as her first day at the University of Columbia, Veronica took a step forward and stopped. What did you say to someone you both loved and hated? How did you bridge the anger?
Her hands felt useless, and she jammed them into her jeans pockets.
He gave her a cursory nod. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to stand out here all day, so I thought I’d save you the decision and invite you in.”
Of all the scenarios that had run through her thoughts, this was not one of them. Words fled her. The return of the Prodigal Daughter was complete.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He moved aside, and she slipped past him.
“Veronica.”
She stopped. He opened his arms. W
ithout hesitation or thought, she slipped her arms around his thin shoulders and the foolish, painful past fell away.
She had needed this. Needed Joseph’s approval. In that brief instant of contact, she knew she’d never lost it.
“I’m glad you decided to come back,” he said, patting her on the back.
A few thumps and she stepped way, taking a moment to wipe her eyes. She hadn’t expected this. This unconditional acceptance.
He motioned her to follow. Feeling both relieved and blessed, she walked through the house toward the kitchen and noticed that some things had changed. Her mentor now walked with a pronounced limp and used a cane.
“What happened?” she asked.
“This?” He wiggled the cane. “The dig last year—the one outside of Venice. The ground was too wet and the pit too deep. We let excitement override our good sense.” He hesitated. “And Chris paid the price for our stupidity.”
Veronica swallowed hard at her mentor’s self-recrimination, knowing nothing she said could fix the past or the guilt that accompanied it. She wanted to say she was sorry. That she wished she’d been there to help.
More important, that she’d understood why they’d pushed themselves beyond what was safe. The consequences weren’t worth it, not when she thought of Chris’s wife and son, but she understood.
She managed an inept, “It was a Peloponnesian ship. I would have done the same thing.”
With a sympathetic glance, he told her that he understood the meaning behind the words. Then, he always had. He understood her like a father and a friend. Sometimes he understood her better than she did.
“Probably,” he replied, his voice bitter. “But it wasn’t you. It was me. It was Chris and our damned ambition.”
And as always, he refused to grant himself the same forgiveness that he offered her so freely.
She pressed her lips together and didn’t comment again—just thanked whatever force that watched over intrepid archaeologists that she hadn’t lost Joseph as well.
The Midas Trap Page 5
