Relic (Uncommon Enemies: An Iniquus Romantic Suspense Mystery Thriller Book 2)

by Fiona Quinn

  “So she’s been targeted,” Nutsbe said.

  “But why?” Lynx opened the file and scanned through the information. “Gaslighting happens when someone uses psychological means to make you question your sanity. It’s not the perfect definition for this particular circumstance. What the tires are doing—along with her lights going off and on for three hours straight—is keep Sophia in a chronic state of fight or flight. Adrenaline, cortisol—it’s like living in a war zone, but there are no bombs dropping, so she keeps trying to convince herself everything’s fine…normal. It isn’t. This creates cognitive dissonance—her internal and external cues are in conflict, which in turn lights up her limbic system, makes her body respond as if her life were on the line.”

  “I had a hard time convincing her that someone was popping her tires on purpose. She said she was jinxed,” Brian said.

  “Exactly my point, her brain can’t process with clarity and dispassion. Flat tires being bad luck she can handle; flat tires being caused by someone who might have the power to hurt her or her children? Crazy-making.”

  They all sat silently, processing the information.

  Lynx picked up a pen and drew a dollar sign on the corner of her paper. “Nutsbe said Sophia ran up an almost four-thousand-dollar bill with the police department when someone rattled her door at exactly the same time each night.”

  “You’d think after a few nights the duty cop would catch a clue and set himself up to see who it was,” Thorn said.

  “Why? They knew they were making easy money for the department,” Nutsbe scoffed.

  “That’s damned cynical.” Thorn pointed at Lynx. “But to your point, a single young mother, home alone, not counting all the other stressors that put her over the five-hundred mark, thinking your home might not be secure, that you can’t afford to have the alarm connected to the police, feeling vulnerable? If I were Sophia, I’d want to get myself out of that situation, STAT.”

  “I would guess that the only thing holding her back from moving to a safer place is money. And again, as a single mom of two kids under four years old, that’s got to play into her every choice,” Thorn said.

  “She’s in survival mode.” Brian was staring at the floor between his feet. He needed to find a way to get things calmer in Sophia’s life. Give her a chance to think and make better decisions. Maybe they could turn her into an asset and keep her out of jail. That was if she was guilty. Even though the narrative continued to build against her, even if this psychological war she was fighting did give her motive, Brian couldn’t believe that Sophia would do anything that supported terror. “Would Sophia really help to fund ISIS? They’re bombing cities and killing little kids like hers every day. Would she help Assad do that? It seemed antithetical to her life’s mission.”

  “If she’s culpable, and that’s a big if, I’d imagine she’s in it for self-preservation. I’m not getting a good read on her—her body language, her facial expressions, her macro and micro tells. To be honest, her limbic system is lit up so bright, it’s hard to get a good assessment.”

  “Nadia said Sophia hadn’t had a seizure in over a year. That must mean that her mental and physical systems were faltering this morning,” Brian said.

  “If I’d been riding that shitstorm for as long as she has, I’d do whatever it took to get myself out of that mess. I can’t say that the idea of some quick money wouldn’t be too enticing to let pass by,” Nutsbe offered as if that scenario was a done deal.

  “I’m thinking about my teammate Jack and his fiancée Suz right now,” Lynx said. “In February, they got caught up in an Eastern European terror plot when a senator was the victim of a tiger kidnapping, where a family is kidnapped and one of the parents, for example, is forced to take some horrible action to save their children. Whereas people might have the fortitude to allow themselves to be hurt or killed rather than go against their moral compass, it’s quite another thing when your loved ones are the ones who would suffer the repercussions. Do you remember when that London delivery driver whose van was filled with explosives rammed into a police department because the kidnapers had his family? The driver ran before the bomb detonated, only to find out his family had been murdered as soon as the task was accomplished. My point here being, this everyday Joe was willing to kill and maim dozens of people because the kidnappers had the speakerphone on when they broke his son’s knees. Those screams, knowing his daughter was next—all reason went out the window.” Lynx raised her brows and tilted her head.

  “They’d need some kind of pressure, something that gave them leverage over her,” Brian said.

  Lynx nodded. As she thought, her lips pursed and she wiggled her mouth from side to side. “This could be the convergence of multiple stressors in some kind of perfect storm. It could be that someone’s running Sophia and knows exactly what they’re doing, keeping the heat turned up to the boiling point. It could also be that the looks are deceiving, and Sophia has nothing at all to do with the sale of antiquities to fund terror.” She stood. “It’s an interesting puzzle. I hope you’ll keep me in the loop.” Looking around at the men, she said, “I’m going to tell you right now though, Sophia’s in danger. Her seizure was a major warning sign.” She turned to focus on Brian. “I’d watch for any sudden shifts in behavior. She could be at risk of hurting herself, and maybe even the boys.”

  Brian’s brow drew tight. “Wait. Are you saying she might be suicidal?”

  Lynx laid a hand on his arm, and Brian felt warmth spreading out, radiating toward his shoulder; it had an instant calming effect. “I’m not a psychologist. It might be a good idea to run this by our psych department. I’m just saying that she has a known diagnosis. One of the risks of PTSD is suicide. And if someone you know commits suicide, like her husband attempted, the chances go up multifold. Do what you can to take her stress level down. Try to make her feel she has a better level of security. Something has to give, or you’re at risk of losing a major player in this case.”

  “You’re serious.” Brian’s scalp prickled, sending a line of cold down his spine.

  “Oh, absolutely.” She lifted her eyebrows for emphasis “I’m sorry, I have to head out now, I’m expected in a meeting.” She stood. “Good luck. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” She turned and walked out.

  “Huh,” Nutsbe grunted, his eye fixed on the door as it swung closed. He turned his attention back to his teammates. “Have you ever known Lynx to be wrong?”

  Brian ran his tongue over his teeth. “Nope.”

  “Here’s a question,” Thorn said. “Let’s assume for a minute, Sophia is culpable—that someone has some kind of control over her and is exploiting her personal situation—do you think we could turn her? I mean, it seems to me that Sophia is a small fish. Beyond making her an example and trying to scare private buyers, why would the FBI be investing this much money in taking down an archaeologist? Are they going after AACP, do you think? My opinion is that we don’t have the whole picture.”

  “We need to keep our eyes open. Lynx is right though; I think one way or another we have to shake some of the monkeys off Sophia’s back,” Brian said, glad that it was Thorn who had brought up making Sophia an asset. “Thorn, can you call Nadia and take her and Sophia out to dinner? I want to get some more equipment in place. Especially an infrared alarm on Sophia’s perimeter that will signal me whenever someone moves onto the property. I need to get the thermal cameras in place outside. It won’t take me long, but I need Sophia off property. I can join you later at the restaurant.”

  “I’d need an excuse.”

  “We got word from AACP that the Peru expedition is set for some time in mid-July,” Nutsbe said. “Tell them you want to gather some basic information about what they’ve got going on down there.”

  “All right.” Thorn pulled his phone from his thigh pocket and flicked through his contacts. “Maybe we can also talk to Sophia about alternative housing choices. Maybe suggest she spend a few nights at a hotel.”


  “Yep. But if we can’t convince her to do that, I’m going to stay the night at her place at least for tonight.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Nutsbe said. “But what if she says no?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sophia

  Wednesday p.m.

  “Four, please,” Thorn told the hostess. “We have someone joining us later.”

  The group trailed their way to a booth toward the back of the restaurant. Sophia was glad to be out of her house and to have a chance to unwind a bit. Lana, a sister of the heart if not biology, had taken the boys for a few days. Actually, Nadia and Lana had ganged up on her, refusing to let her keep her boys overnight until they thought she’d rested enough not to be at risk of another seizure. Sophia didn’t like the idea of her sons being away from her, but pragmatism won out. She needed to take medication and sleep. Nadia was right; two or three nights of deep sleep might restore her. The seizures were too dangerous. They’d sometimes trigger with a thought, a smell, a movement, and they left her babies completely unsupervised. What if she were cooking and she started a fire, or they were in the bath alone?

  Nadia turned and blocked her way. “Let’s go somewhere else,” she whispered, catching Sophia’s arms.

  “Why? We like it here.” Sophia looked over Nadia’s shoulder and saw Marla at a table with a group of women she didn’t recognize. A pitcher of margaritas sat almost empty in the middle of the table. Sophia leaned in to whisper in Nadia’s ear. “My therapist said to do nothing that gives her power, ignore her as much as humanly possible and be neutral. Sociopaths feed off those who show any weakness to make themselves feel powerful. So, we move to our table. We sit down. We ignore her completely, or we embolden her.”

  “Is everything okay?” Thorn put his hand on Sophia’s back and leaned in.

  “Peachy.” Nadia smiled and turned back to the hostess who gestured them toward their seats. Luckily, they were a comfortable distance from Marla and her entourage.

  Thorn gestured for Nadia to slide in, and he took the outside seat, facing the restaurant. Sophia slipped in on the other side, happy that she was out of Marla’s view. The hostess mentioned the day’s specials and moved away.

  “All right, now can you tell me what’s up?”

  “Sophia’s neighbor, Marla the sociopath, is here. You should be ready for something nuts to happen.”

  Thorn shifted his gaze to Sophia as he took Nadia’s words seriously. “She’s been diagnosed? She’s a known sociopath?”

  “I have no idea,” Sophia said under her breath. “I described her actions to my therapist, and he diagnosed her in absentia in order to give me some coping strategies.”

  Thorn raised his menu, but Sophia could tell he was using it as a tactic to observe Marla’s table. “This is the chick who sits on her car in her bikini for hours on end?”

  “Yup. Insane.” Nadia put her menu down. “I’m getting the usual. When is Brian getting here?”

  “Probably by the time our food arrives.” He glanced at the time read out on his phone. “I’ll order for him.” A spitball landed on Thorn’s menu. He stared down at it. “Really?”

  Sophia reached out and laid her hand on Thorn’s. “We’re going to ignore her completely. Let’s talk about Peru. Did you see the report that came in? The mystery was solved. How cool is that?”

  Thorn looked at Nadia

  “Puquios. Heard of them?”

  “No, sorry. Is that what you’re getting to eat?

  “Ha, you must be hungry.” Nadia looked through her lashes at Thorn, running her fingers through her hair.

  Was she flirting? Sophia wondered with amusement. Well, Nadia always had a thing for bad boys. Thorn missed the flirtation, though. He had been scanning the menu. Sophia tucked that little scene away to tease her about later.

  “Puquios are enormous holes dug into the earth. The mystery of why they existed was an important question that was recently solved from space. Ta da!” Nadia stopped to indulge in a self-satisfied smile. “There’s a region in Peru called Nazca that is famous for something called the Nazca lines. Ancient people developed these enormous carvings in the landscape. They’ve found ceremonial burial areas and signs of a complex society. The thing that perplexed archaeologists was how the ancient people were able to not only survive, but to flourish. We can tell from research that droughts in the area could last for years. It turns out that those big holes in the ground created a complex hydraulic system that pulled water from underground aquifers, turning the inhospitable region into one where their society could thrive.”

  “Satellite imagery to the rescue,” Sophia said. “The information helped archaeologists and anthropologists see how the Puquios were distributed across the Nazca region. How they were situated compared to the various settlements.”

  “Is that where we’re headed?” Thorn put the menu down and signaled the waitress.

  “It’s a bit farther from where we’re setting our study, but I’m planning a quick side trip to see the Puquios in person.” Sophia leaned back as the server came to take their order and collect the menus. When Sophia ordered a glass of wine with her meal, Nadia leaned in to whisper that she shouldn’t mix her sleeping pill with alcohol. And alcohol on its own would disturb her sleep. Sophia turned to the waitress. “Make that a water instead, please.” Though a glass of wine might stop her nerves from buzzing. Marla, in such close proximity, set off her danger sirens. She wished the ladies’ night out table would finish up and leave.

  Nadia opened the cloth that covered the basket of steaming rolls the server had left to tide them over, passing them around before she helped herself. “We have a colleague, Alejandro, who grew up in both America and Peru. When he was a little boy, his grandparents would tell him about the Spanish conquistadors who were looking for gold. The Spaniards wanted to go into the Amazon to find their fortunes, but the locals warned them that there were man-eating snakes, wildcats that stalked their prey and pounced without warning, and rivers that could cook a man with their boiling waters. Of course, these were just bedtime stories for him like Little Red Riding Hood or Winnie the Pooh.”

  “Until they weren’t,” Sophia said.

  Another spit ball hit the table, and before Thorn responded, Sophia said, “Look at me. Smile. Give a little laugh. She has no power at this table.”

  Thorn did as she asked, and Sophia relaxed a little. The last thing she needed was for GI Joe to go over and flex his muscles. “Alejandro was with his in-laws having dinner when he told his nephews the story about the conquistadors. His wife’s aunt says, ‘I’ve been there, it’s absolutely beautiful.’”

  “Where? The boiling river?” Thorn leaned in.

  “Yes, it’s so hot that if an animal falls in, it cooks right there. The locals use the river like an automatic hot water dispenser. They cook their food. They do their laundry. They bathe. It’s an incredible resource for them.”

  “You’d think it would be a huge tourist destination. Why haven’t I heard of it?”

  “The locals don’t want the intrusion of the modern world,” Nadia explained. “They recall the stories of the destruction and illnesses that outsiders brought to the South American peoples. They’re content to be quiet about it.”

  “Alejandro respects their decision. The AACP does as well. We’re going into the area very quietly, with the blessing of the village shaman. Small footprint. Our archaeological inquiry will be under the radar, so to speak. We absolutely do not want to be disruptive to the native peoples. But we do want to get some answers to greater questions, like those discovered at the Puquios.”

  “Wait, I thought you were Middle Eastern specialists,” Thorn said, sitting back to let the server distribute their drinks.

  “In a way, that’s true. But we’re not the ones who will be doing the excavation. We’re simply going in to lay grid lines and drill core samples to see if what was found with satellite technology can be verified. You remember my telling you about the beta
searchers—the novices we had trying out our system we hope to open to the interested—” Nadia turned toward Thorn. “What did your colleague call it?”

  “Armchair archeologists,” Sophia responded before taking a sip of her water.

  “That’s right.” Nadia stuck her hand in the air with a little wave. “Here comes Brian. Anyway, several of the beta testers pointed out this particular area as interesting. Sophia and I agree. It’ll be good to get out of our desk chairs and into a jungle. Clear our heads.”

  Brian arrived and with a nod slipped into the bench seat next to Sophia. The seat was narrower than it looked, and Sophia found herself hip to hip, thigh to thigh against the sheer size of Brian Ackerman.

  “I ordered you a steak.” Thorn pushed Brian’s glass of water over to him.

  “Thanks. What did I miss?”

  Another spitball landed on the table with a splat. Thorn and Brian stared at it. “Really?” Brian asked.

  “Since we’ve been here…” Thorn quirked a derisive brow. “We’ve been following Sophia’s advice from her therapist and not giving the sociopath the satisfaction of a response.”

  Brian turned bright blue eyes and a warm smile her way. “How are you doing?”

  Sophia wished the booths in this restaurant were a little bigger, that there was more space between them. She wished he didn’t smell like lemon soap. It reminded her of her days back before she went on the dig that turned her life to hell.

  “Sophia!” Marla yelled. “Sophia!”

  “Holy hell, she’s coming this way.” Nadia shifted in her seat, planting her elbows on the table and hiding her face behind her curtain of long black hair.

  Brian reached for Sophia and pulled her into a kiss.

  “Sophia’s busy at the moment.” Laughter bubbled up with Thorn’s words. “Can I take a message?”

  After a moment, Nadia whispered, “She’s gone now.”