Twelve Shades of Midnight:

by Liliana Hart

  He lifted his head and met her gaze. Her eyes were dilated with arousal. She wasn’t joking, but she wasn’t upset either. Curious, maybe.

  “I don’t think we are,” he said. “But I suppose it’s possible.”

  While Rhys called an FBI agent he knew in Seattle, Sienna got to work on the inventory. A few minutes later, he joined her.

  “He said he’d review the filed manifests and let me know if Helvig arrived yesterday, before the break-in at Chuck’s house.”

  Rhys’s phone buzzed.

  “That was fast,” Sienna said.

  He glanced at the screen and shook his head. “It’s the hospital.” He answered, and she saw the relief on his face as he spoke to his cousin for the first time since arriving in town last night. She turned back to a printout of the inventory. The file on the computer having been corrupted and inaccessible, she’d been lucky to find a catalogue that had been printed a few months before Jana’s death. Old and possibly out-of-date, but at least it was a starting point.

  She studied the list for items that were more likely to be stolen than others. The tribe was small, but they had a proactive CRM. From the number of pages in the printout, they had over twenty thousand cultural items in storage. A large portion were attributed to several archaeological excavations, but valuable items could still be among those collections.

  This would take a while. Days, most likely.

  She hadn’t found a reference to the mask yet, but figured it was buried somewhere in the catalogue.

  Twenty minutes later, call complete, Rhys joined her. “Chuck said the separate file on the mask—which included photos—was missing from the file cabinet and deleted from the computer. But he has backups for those in his office. We can grab them later. He said from my description, it sounds like you’ve brought back the missing mask, and he got choked up. It’s important to the tribe. He says thanks—and he’ll sign whatever the hell receipt you want.”

  She smiled. One thing she didn’t have to fear: prison. Nice to cross that one off the list.

  “While you were on the phone, I identified a few items that might be considered valuable to collectors. Shall we pull the inventory boxes and see if they’re present and accounted for?”

  He nodded, and together they searched the boxes while he gave her a rundown of everything he’d learned from Chuck.

  It was late evening—even if the sunlight lied—when Sienna announced she needed to quit for the night. “I have a headache. Climate-controlled spaces and visions of my death do that to me.”

  Rhys returned a box to the stacks as she rubbed her lower back. They had identified a dozen missing items so far. “I don’t know how I would have figured all this out without you here.” He rolled his shoulders.

  “Who knew my degree would be of use to an assistant US attorney?” She appreciated the way his muscles moved under his shirt, and thought of other ways to be of use to the AUSA.

  The heat in his gaze said he had similar thoughts, but his words were all business. “Chuck said we should check in with Archie Wright, the owner of Wright Net—the manufacturers next door. He said in the summer Archie lives on an ancient fishing boat moored on the town pier. According to Chuck, the guy is older than dirt but still sharp and knows where all the bodies are buried. We could check in with him, then hit the Midnight Sun Festival, grab dinner, track down the guys who work for Wright Net, and watch the daylight firework display.”

  She glanced at her watch. “Isn’t it late to drop in on an elderly man?”

  “Chuck said he’ll be up, but if he’s not on deck, we won’t bother him.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Rhys slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her forehead. “You sure you’re up for it? It’s been a hellishly long day.”

  “It’s strange, but I feel like now that I’ve given myself over to doing what the mask wants, it’s being…kinder to me. It was angry back in Washington. More stick than carrot. But since we started working together, it’s been different. You are one hell of a carrot.” She flushed and laughed at the same time. “I can’t believe I just said that. I didn’t mean—”

  He chuckled. “I personally prefer being referred to as a zucchini or cucumber…”

  She rolled her eyes. “Men.” She huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “As I was saying, so even though I’m tired and maybe just a tiny bit freaked out about what happened earlier, I think the mask wants us to talk to Archie Wright. I have a feeling it won’t let me rest again until we do.”

  Chapter Seven

  Archie Wright greeted Rhys warmly, his wrinkled, weathered face split with a wide smile, revealing he’d eschewed his dentures for the evening. “Come aboard! I’ve been expecting you after Chuck’s call.” The man squinted at Sienna. “I’m afraid my sight isn’t what it used to be. Who is this with you?”

  Rhys pulled himself aboard and gave Sienna a hand as she crossed the sizable gap. It was a wonder the legally blind ninety-year-old lived on the ancient vessel. Chuck had mentioned Archie’s children tried to convince him to move into assisted living in town, but Archie had refused on the grounds that he knew the boat better than a man knew his wife’s body. He didn’t need good vision to find his way around.

  “I’m Sienna Aubrey, Mr. Wright. I’m helping Chuck track down artifacts that are missing from the tribal storage facility.”

  The old man nodded. “Chuck mentioned the thefts to me the day he got sick. And please, call me Archie. Have a seat.” His blank gaze turned to Rhys, his face expectant.

  Rhys smiled and pressed a small bottle of scotch they’d picked up on the way to the dock into the man’s empty hand. “Only if you’ll share this Glenfiddich with me.”

  The man’s grin widened. “Chuck is a good friend. My daughter, bless her heart, has convinced the owner of the liquor store not to sell to me while I live on the boat. She fears I’ll slip and fall into Kotzebue Sound. Damn waste of a retirement if a man can’t have a decent drink.” He sprang up and made a beeline for a cabinet and returned with three tumblers.

  Drinks poured, Archie sat back, drink in hand and a grin on his face. As Chuck had said, Archie didn’t actually drink the scotch. He merely held the glass beneath his nose and breathed. Chuck suspected he shared his daughter’s concerns but enjoyed the artificial rebellion.

  In the distance, there was a sharp, loud pop. Sienna jolted.

  Rhys took her hand in his. “That one really was a firework.”

  She nodded. “I know. Still startling.” She stared into her tumbler with a leery eye. “I’m not usually a fan of straight booze, but today I’ll make an exception.” She took a tiny sip, then made a face. “Eh. Maybe not.”

  Rhys laughed, filing away her likes and dislikes, amazed at the amount he didn’t know about her when he felt connected to her on so many levels.

  “You kids planning on going to the street dance tonight?” Archie asked. “The town spent a fortune flying in some band called Max Midnight to play the festival.”

  “Yes,” Rhys said, “but not to see the band. We’re hoping to talk to your employees. I’d like to ask them about suspicious activity at the industrial park.”

  Archie set down the tumbler and spat out into the water. “The Pelligrew boys? Worthless pieces of shit. I’d fire them both in a heartbeat if I could find workers to take over, but no one else knows how to use the machinery, and”—he lifted his tumbler and squinted at it as he moved it closer to his eyes—“I can’t train anyone new. Wright Net has contracts to fill, fishermen I’ve known since they were boys. I can’t let them down. But once those contracts are done, I’m closing shop.”

  Rhys leaned forward, surprised by Archie’s complete change in demeanor. “You aren’t happy with them?”

  “Hell, no. They’re robbing me blind. And I am blind, so there’s a special place in hell for them. When the boys arrived in town a year ago, I thought they were the answer to my prayers. Instead, they’ve been nothing but nightmares.”

&
nbsp; Rhys’s nerves hummed, not triggered by the mask but by a hunch based on timing. “The Pelligrews have only been working for you for the last year?”

  “Yeah. I was in a bind and about to close shop when the Pelligrews came along. They’d worked down in Washington for a competitor and knew the machinery. I hired them on the spot. It took me months to catch on to what they’re doing—making nets on the side, using dummy invoices, pocketing the cash.” He spit again.

  Sienna sat forward. “Do you think it’s possible they’ve been stealing from the tribe as well? Being in the same building with the storage facility, they must have noticed how rarely anyone visited.”

  Archie nodded. “Boys who’ll steal from a blind man will steal from anyone. All they’d have to do is cut a hole in the wall between the net shop and tribe storage. It used to be one large room, but when I downsized the shop eight years ago, I had the wall constructed so I could rent out the other half of the building. Easy peasy to cut a hole when the wall isn’t structural.”

  “Wouldn’t we have noticed a hole in the wall?” Sienna asked.

  “Not if the storage shelves concealed it,” Rhys said.

  “But earlier, when you were shot at, the shooter escaped through the back door, setting off the alarms, and when we searched, the shelves were all in place.”

  Rhys explained to Archie about the shooting, then said, “What if they opened the back door, setting off the alarm, then escaped through their opening and pulled the shelves back? With the noise of the alarm, I’d never hear the moving shelves, and the area behind the office is hidden from the front aisle.”

  “I never saw anyone outside, and no vehicles drove by. The landscape is so open, I’d have seen someone if they’d headed back toward town. It’s possible they were in the net shop, even while Officer Tourney searched the storage facility.”

  Archie took a small sip of the scotch. Rhys figured the story of the shooting and potential thefts had broken through his restraint. “They could have parked their truck inside the shop,” Archie said. “No vehicle. No way of knowing if they were there at all.”

  “It’s pretty damn blatant to cut a hole in the wall, even if it is rigged with shelves to hide it,” Sienna said. “All we’d have to do is find the opening, and we know who’s been stealing from the tribe.”

  “Which explains why they went after Chuck once he noticed the thefts. They couldn’t risk him finding their entrance,” Rhys said.

  “I’d tell you to call the police and have them search my shop, no search warrant necessary, but Tourney has shit for brains and resents Chuck because of Jana. Likely as not he’ll say rats cut the hole, or he’ll destroy the evidence trying to find it. You need to call in feds.”

  “Because of the NAGPRA issues and a mask I’ve recovered that crossed state lines, this might fall under federal jurisdiction,” Sienna said. “The problem is, the inventory on the computer was corrupt, so I’ve been working from printouts, which haven’t been updated since before Jana Vaughan died. It’s hard to know what’s missing without an up-to-date inventory.”

  “Tread carefully with Doug and Nick Pelligrew,” Archie said. “If they think you’re on to them, you’ll be in danger.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Rhys said. “And I won’t let Sienna near the bastards. You need to be careful too. If they know you’ve been talking with us…”

  “I shared a drink with my good friend Chuck’s cousin. Besides, there’s no law against a blind man having a gun.”

  “That’s somewhat alarming,” Sienna said with a choked laugh. “But I’m glad you’ve got protection.”

  “I’ve got pictures of them in the personnel paperwork. Gimme a sec and I’ll grab the file.” He disappeared belowdeck, his agile steps making Rhys question both his professed age and blindness. Minutes later, he returned with a thick manila folder, which he dropped on the table in front of Rhys. “My daughter files the taxes for the business and said the boys’ references checked out. Not sure what’s in this file, but this is what I have.”

  Rhys flipped open the folder, searching for photocopies of the Pelligrews’ photo IDs. He jolted when he found it and turned the page toward Sienna.

  She gasped. “Doug Pelligrew was at the diner this morning. Staring at me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Back in the car, Sienna leaned against the seat and took a deep, calming breath. “We need to go back to the storage facility.” Just the thought sent shivers up her spine, but they had to know if there was a secret entry between the two businesses.

  Rhys squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’m sorry. I’d drop you at Chuck’s house and go by myself, but I think we need to stick together.”

  She nodded. “If we find an opening, do we call the police?”

  He tapped the steering wheel. “I’ll call the FBI. The agent in Seattle gave me a contact in Anchorage. I think you’re right about this theft falling under their jurisdiction.”

  “I’ve heard artifact theft can be deeply tied to drug smuggling—artifacts are often more portable than cash and can quickly be sold at the back end.”

  “Yeah. It’s possible organized crime is involved. The US Attorney up here might be able to go after them under RICO.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking… Is it possible Adam Helvig and the museum in Tacoma is some sort of artifact laundry? Would it be possible for him to provide false papers that made the artifact ‘clean’ so it could be sold on the open market?”

  Excitement built in her gut. A low hum that grew steadily louder. “Maybe it’s the mask talking, but I think that’s it. The Pelligrews stole the artifacts and delivered them to Helvig. Helvig’s job was to hold on to them for a few months, clean the provenance, then deaccession them through the museum’s process. He knew it was stolen, which is why he freaked when I included it with the NAGPRA items. And that’s why he hasn’t reported it stolen. He could destroy me for taking that mask, but as far as we know, he’s done zilch except follow me here. He must have tipped off the Pelligrews that I took the mask and flew to Itqaklut. Simple enough to email a photo and tell them to keep an eye out for me.”

  Rhys nodded. “Would a mask like that be worth enough money for him to risk reputation and career?”

  “The short answer? Yes. With a clean provenance and cleared of the NAGPRA process, I don’t really know, but my guess is, it could be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars to a wealthy collector. With rare exceptions, because of NAGPRA, prehistoric artwork like the mask has essentially been removed from the legal antiquities market, making the items that are available ten times more valuable. If Adam Helvig is running an artifact laundry through the museum, he’s found a very lucrative sideline and could well be working with the organized black market trade.”

  “No wonder the Pelligrews were so quick to try to kill Chuck. They’d screwed up and overworked a source. If the trafficking were exposed, they’re cogs and immediately expendable.”

  Another shudder ran through her. The agony of the bullet had been brief but memorable. “I’m scared, Rhys.”

  He nodded. “Me too. I think being scared is wise.”

  On the way to the industrial park, they passed no fewer than three electricians working on the power lines. Apparently the Midnight Sun Festival was hell on the power grid—not surprising given that the town was packed to the gills. “Have I thanked you recently for offering me a place to stay last night?”

  He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “It’s been my pleasure.”

  His low words combined with the touch of his lips caused her belly to flutter. She so wanted this intense attraction to be real.

  He pulled into the circular drive in front of the industrial park. As before, the lot was deserted. It was a beautiful summer night, the low light of the sun glinted off the snow-covered hills far behind the low industrial buildings.

  “Are there motion detectors inside the storage facility?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. Since it’s windowless and has only
two doors, I think the tribe figured the only risks were the exits.”

  Sienna studied the roll-up door for the net shop. It was entirely possible Doug and Nick Pelligrew had parked their truck in the shop. Like the tribal storage facility, there were no windows, no way to peer inside; windows meant heat loss, and they had a big garage door they could open on a rare hot day. They could be inside now, but it was past ten in the evening, and odds were they were at the festival.

  “I don’t think they’re here,” Rhys said.

  “The mask hasn’t messed with my emotions to stop us from entering. Let’s go for it.”

  Rhys nodded and unlocked the door. Together they paced the wall the tribal office shared with the net shop, looking for signs a shelf had been moved.

  Rhys spotted it at the same moment Sienna did, a thin arc-shaped line cut into the linoleum, as if a hinged door—or rather, shelf—had been dragged across the floor, repeatedly.

  He tugged at the shelf. It didn’t budge. An inspection of the bottom showed it rested on low feet lined with felt. The line in the floor arced away from a slightly bent foot—which explained the gouge in the linoleum. The shelf should move, unless it was mounted to the wall. It could be a case of earthquake proofing…or it served as a door that was latched on the other side.

  “A simple latch on the net-shop side would make it impossible to open,” Sienna said. “That would keep Chuck from stumbling across the opening.”

  “Agreed. If we break down the shelf to get to the wall and find an opening, we wouldn’t only destroy evidence, we’d also let them know we’re on to them. I think this is enough evidence to warrant a call to the Anchorage FBI agent. I’m fairly certain he’ll come out and investigate. Between the mask, the list of missing artifacts, Chuck’s poisoning, this scrape mark, and Archie’s statement about the Pelligrew boys stealing from him, there’s enough cause for an investigation.”

  Relief fluttered through Sienna’s system. “Does this mean we’re done? I can hand the mask over and go home?”