“Your cold case investigation?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly her face softened, and she moved into his space. “I’m so sorry. Seeing her here just threw me.”
Her perfume tickled his nose. He could see how she might jump to conclusions. A smile pulled at his lips. She had cooked dinner for him. “Forget it. And thanks for dinner. It’s very good. Would you like to join us?”
She glanced toward the hallway. “That would be—”
The doorbell rang, and Rachel called out, “It’s me and I’m starved. Open the door before I drop something.”
Shrugging an apology, he hurried to let her in and took several of the bags.
“Who would have thought I could get in and out of Walmart so fast? Oh,” she said when she saw Elle.
Brad made the introductions and Rachel said, “Thanks for making dinner. It smells scrumptious.”
“Uh, thank you,” Elle said and picked up her purse. “I think I’ll head home. I’m sure the three of you have a lot to discuss, and I have to get up early in the morning to catch a flight to LA.”
“I’ll walk out with you.” He didn’t think Kelsey’s stalker had followed them, but he wanted to make sure Elle got away all right. “Thanks again for dinner,” he said as he opened her car door. “Sorry it didn’t turn out like you planned.”
She stroked his cheek. “Me too. We’ll try again Saturday night?”
“Let’s touch base Friday night,” he said, staring into her blue eyes. She still sent his heart racing, but . . .
Elle leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Until Friday.”
He walked back to his front door, his mind tangled like fishing cord. Elle was ready to commit to their relationship, he felt it in his bones. So why wasn’t he more excited?
35
RACHEL WAS THE ONLY ONE in the kitchen when Kelsey returned.
“I put the clothing I bought on the sofa,” Rachel said.
Kelsey nodded and helped put the groceries away. She didn’t think she could have taken it if Elle and Brad had still been in the room. And that bothered her. She had no claims on Brad. But it certainly looked as though Elle did.
“So that was Elle,” Rachel said. “She’s not quite what I expected.”
“Me either. She should be a movie star.” Kelsey certainly couldn’t blame Brad for being in love with someone that beautiful. For a second, she wondered what it would be like to be that beautiful and have someone like Brad love you. Not happening. She was and always would be that nerdy teenager. “You didn’t meet her when they were engaged?”
“No. He never brought her to any of the get-togethers we had. I don’t think she likes it that he’s a policeman.”
Elle Deveraux is not the wife for Brad. The thought almost made her drop the bananas. Maybe Elle was beautiful and cooked like a celebrity chef, but he loved being a cop. If she couldn’t support him in a career he loved, she had no business going after him.
The door opened and Brad came inside. Was that lipstick on his cheek? Her heart sank. Didn’t he see that Elle was all wrong for him?
“I’m still hungry,” he said. “How about you two?”
“Sounds good,” Rachel said and fixed her plate. “Come on, Kelsey, finish your plate.”
She wasn’t hungry, but she had to eat to keep up her strength. When Brad finished, he glanced at the wall clock, and she followed his gaze. Eleven thirty. Morning would come too soon.
“We probably need to make a plan,” he said.
“Dessert first,” Rachel said. She opened a package of lemon crisps and set it down in the middle of the table.
Kelsey took a cookie from the bag and munched on it. “Can we do this in the morning? I almost went to sleep eating.”
“No, we won’t have time in the morning,” he said. “There’s a meeting first thing tomorrow Rachel and I have to attend.”
“I’m going in to the museum tomorrow,” she said.
Brad sat up straight. “No, you’re—”
“Don’t say it,” Kelsey fired back. “You two can’t stay with me twenty-four hours a day. Think about it—the museum is the safest place for me—he won’t try to kill me there.”
“He already has! Or have you forgotten yesterday afternoon when he fired shots at you in the parking lot?” Brad’s voice was angry.
“And he killed Rutherford at the museum,” Rachel pointed out in her calm way.
“Rutherford didn’t have a bodyguard, and I do.”
“But a bodyguard doesn’t have my training, or Rachel’s.”
She was so tired of playing this cat-and-mouse game and blew out an impatient breath. “Why don’t we use me for bait, then. Spread it around that I saw the person who killed Hendrix. I can’t live the rest of my life waiting for him to kill me.”
Brad’s eyes widened. “No way. Besides, that’s why he’s trying to kill you—he already believes you saw him.”
“Then arrest me. You can control what I do, and I guess I’d be safe in jail.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Brad said. “And I’m not trying to control you. Just the situation.”
“It’s the same thing,” she retorted.
“Excuse me,” Rachel said, waving a napkin between Brad and Kelsey.
They both turned and stared at her.
“Thank you,” she said. “Let’s look at this objectively. Kelsey might actually have a couple of good points.” She pinned Brad with a hear-me-out look.
“I’m listening.”
“One, you can’t keep her here if she doesn’t want to stay, and two, Rutherford was killed because he was alone in the vault. As long as she stays inside the museum with a bodyguard with her, he won’t show his hand. Going to work really might be a good idea.”
He rubbed his jaw with his thumb. He was at least thinking about it. Kelsey wished she hadn’t said he was trying to control her—she could see the comment stung.
“Think about it,” Kelsey said. “I’ll go crazy sitting here alone, and what if he figures out I’m staying here? He’s figured out everything else.” She leaned forward. “I’m telling you, it’s the best place for me to be if I’m not with you. If I’m there, I can check the personnel records to see which current employees worked at the museum twenty-eight years ago.”
“I don’t like it. Not one bit. But then, I don’t like anything about this case.” He studied her. “Okay. But I’ll take you there before we leave. And you’re right about him figuring out where you’ll be. It is almost as though he has a direct pipeline.”
That was what frightened her the most.
36
KELSEY WOKE BEFORE HER ALARM SOUNDED with sunlight peeking through the blinds. She frowned. The sun shouldn’t wake her. Unless it had started rising in the west. She rose up on her elbows. A black dresser. Tan walls and no curtains over the windows. This was not her bedroom.
Last night’s events came crashing in on her. She was at Brad’s. She collapsed back onto the bed and rolled on her side, cocooning herself in the blanket. Her dad, the bomb, her destroyed apartment . . . She was in a nightmare that would never end. Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!
Kelsey stilled. The Bible verse she’d learned not long ago. She wanted to grab hold of it and cling to it. What was the rest of it? Something about God not taking a person out of trouble, but walking with them through it.
She threw back the covers and looked for a Bible in the room. Not finding one, she looked for her laptop and remembered leaving it in the kitchen, so she grabbed her phone. She didn’t remember exactly where the verse came from anyway, so she typed the words she remembered into Google. Isaiah 43 came up, and she clicked on the link and read the next verses.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
And through the rivers, they will not overflow you.
When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched,
Nor will the flame burn you.
For I
am the LORD your God.
If only she could believe that.
People let you down; how did she know God wouldn’t too? And when you depended on someone else, you gave them control of your life. Not something that was easy for her. Early on in life, Kelsey had learned she was the only person she could truly depend on. She wasn’t even sure she’d know how to depend on God.
With a sigh, she read the passage on her phone again. Her sister would tell Kelsey to just trust God and ask him to help her. Kelsey turned over and faced the wall. Maybe if she counted sheep . . .
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee drew her from sleep, and she jerked her eyes open. Seven thirty? Kelsey threw back the blanket and quickly dressed in the jeans and T-shirt Rachel had bought last night. Not normal dress for the museum, but these weren’t normal times. She hesitated at the mirror, remembering how put together Elle had been last night. Kelsey shook her head. Glamorous was not her. Never would be.
Brad looked around as she entered the kitchen. He was dressed for work in his usual white short-sleeved shirt and navy pants, and the dishes they’d left in the sink were gone.
“Good morning,” he said. “Coffee?”
“Please, and good morning to you too.” Brad looked as though he hadn’t slept, either. A Bible lay on the counter, and the sight encouraged her. Evidently, they’d had the same idea. While comforting, she hoped his search hadn’t opened a box of night crawlers. “I meant to help Rachel do the dishes, but I overslept.”
“Appreciate the thought, but Rachel didn’t wash the dishes. I did.”
“But you look so normal,” she said, laughing, and accepted the cup of coffee he handed her. Their fingers touched, sparking a flurry of heartbeats. For a brief second their eyes connected, and time froze. He looked away first.
“I’ll have you know growing up my mother thought boys should know how to cook and clean as well as girls, thank goodness. Otherwise, I would have starved after I moved out on my own.”
“Wise woman.” She sipped the coffee, noticing the clean cut of his jaw and how his lips quirked in the corner. Come on, Kelsey, you don’t have time for this. She stared down at her cup. “You make great java. Did you stay up all night?”
“Not the whole night,” he said, glancing at the Bible. “Reggie called around midnight and your car is clean. No bomb.”
For a second, she’d been able to put last night’s terrifying experience out of her head, but the news quickly brought home that she was not out of danger.
“Are you hungry? Rachel bought eggs and cereal, but that’s about it. She had cereal before she left for downtown.”
Not eating wasn’t an option no matter how much her stomach protested. “Cereal is fine for me too. Exactly how much sleep did you get?”
Brad waved her off. “That doesn’t matter. I’ve been thinking. Evidently you got a glimpse of the killer Thursday night, but for some reason you’ve buried it. I know a psychologist who is trained in hypnotherapy, and I’d like to see if I can get you in today.”
Kelsey had had no dealings with hypnosis. “Do you think it will work? That this doctor will help me see his face?”
“I think it’s worth a try. I can call now—I have the doctor’s cell phone number.”
She had nothing to lose. “Do it. I’m ready to try anything.”
Kelsey caught herself holding her breath as Brad scrolled through his phone and made the call. Breathe. The doctor answered and she breathed again. Brad explained what he wanted, and then his lips quirked upward.
“Thanks, Doc.” He disconnected. “One thirty. I’ll pick you up.”
She checked her watch. Almost eight. “How soon will you be ready to leave?”
“The question is, how soon will you be ready?”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“Might as well take thirty. If we wait until eight thirty, rush-hour traffic will thin out, and it won’t take us any longer to get to the museum. And I called Jackson King to alert him that we need a bodyguard at the museum with you at all times.”
Brad got her to the museum a little after nine and idled his car just outside the entrance. “I would stay with you, but there’s a general meeting to discuss the bomb at your house, and I want to be there. If anyone asks, just say you can’t discuss it. And stick with your bodyguard until I return.”
She saluted him. “Aye, aye, sir.”
He shook his head. “Sit tight until I get your door.”
Once they were inside and he’d handed her over to the security guard who’d been assigned to her for the day, he said, “I’ll call you before I leave the CJC. The doctor’s office isn’t far, so it won’t take long to get there.”
Kelsey could get used to being looked after. She rounded the corner with the bodyguard trailing her and almost ran into Mark Tomlinson. “Oh, excuse me.”
He eyed her silently. “Are you okay? I heard something on the news last night about an explosion in your neighborhood.”
She stiffened. He knew where she lived? She’d only listed a post office box when she filled out her employee paperwork. “Yes. It was my apartment, but the police have asked me not to talk about it.”
“I had no idea it was you, just that the explosion was in Central Gardens. Sorry for your loss.”
He didn’t sound very sorry. “Well, I’m fine. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. But I planned to find you later this morning to ask a couple of questions. Do you have a minute?”
His mouth tightened, and he glanced toward the security guard leaning against the wall. “Only a minute. I’m on my way to check a nonfunctioning light switch. What do you want to know?”
She shifted the bag with her laptop in it to her other hand. “I need to access certain personnel files on my computer. Is there a code I need?”
He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Helen Peterson. I don’t deal with computers other than what I have to for the job. Don’t like them, don’t like to use them.”
Then that would let him out as far as hacking into her computer. “You were working here when my father was director. Do you—”
“Who’s your father?”
She’d forgotten that only his brother and Jackson knew who her father was. “Paul Carter.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Mark Tomlinson’s permanent scowl changed, replaced by surprise.
“That was your father?”
“Yes. Do you remember him?”
Mark nodded. “He was a decent man.”
“Thank you.” Kelsey hadn’t expected the sudden change in his manner.
Mark looked at her oddly. “Seems like I remember a little girl with him sometimes. Was that you?”
He remembered her? “I came to visit at the museum sometimes. Are you familiar with the people who were employed then and who are still here now?”
“That’s something you’d have to ask my brother. Anything else?”
She’d hoped to bypass asking the director.
Kelsey glanced at the key ring hanging from his belt. Only one. She’d been puzzling over how the thief got into the vault, but if he had access to Mark’s key . . . “I assume every office has a different key. Does that key on your belt fit all the locks?”
“Of course. You don’t see fifty keys on my belt, do you?”
“Are you the only one with access to the master key?”
“As director, my brother has a duplicate, and Mr. Rutherford had one.”
“Do you know where Mr. Rutherford’s key is?”
“Probably either in his personal effects or Jackson King has possession of it. And since you’re working with King, you can ask him that question yourself. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
Like she didn’t. That was what his tone indicated. “One more thing. How hard would it be for someone to get your key to make a copy of it?”
“Only over my dead body. I take this job very seriously, and it’s never out of my sight. Whoever is stealing the artifacts did not get
into the storage room because I was careless. So unless someone can take a photo of it hanging on my belt and make duplicates, it would be impossible,” he said.
“Actually, the possibility of someone doing just that is quite real.” She’d researched the software.
“You’re kidding! So now I have to carry it in my pocket?”
“It’s a scary world out there. How about your brother. Do you know where he keeps his key?”
“Locked in the vault. If he needs it, and he can’t find me, he has to get the registrar to let him into the vault, and the registrar is the only person who has the combination to the vault, other than me, since Rutherford died.”
Two sets accounted for, and unless someone had photographed one of the master keys and made duplicates, she only had to locate Rutherford’s key. She would ask Jackson about it. “How about the code that’s used for each room? Is there a master list?”
“No.”
“But what if someone quit their job without passing on their code?”
He sighed. “I can reset any keypad to the default login.”
She ignored his impatience. It was the first time she’d actually been able to stop him long enough to ask questions. “So there’s a sequence of numbers that resets the keypad?”
“Yes, Ms. Allen.”
“Is it written down anywhere?”
“Yes. In my office. And no one gets into my office unless I’m there.”
Since he was edging away, she said, “Thank you for your time.” She started to walk toward her office and turned back. “Wait. Can I ask you one more question?”
He about-faced, annoyance stamped on his features. She was beginning to believe the man really didn’t like her. He crossed his arms and waited for her.
“Do you have any idea who the thief might be or how he gets into the rooms where the artifacts are stored?”
Mark’s right eye twitched. “If I did, I would have already told the police.”
The building manager had an idea, all right, but he wasn’t sharing it. She palmed her hand up. “Sorry to have bothered you. I’m done with the questions.”
Justice Buried Page 22
