Artifact

by Gigi Pandian

  In spite of Sanjay’s melodramatic framing, his suggestion was better than any of the ideas I’d had that day. After I hung up with Sanjay, I slipped a note under Knox’s door.

  When I woke up in the morning after a fitful night’s sleep, I was alone. My cell phone light was still blinking. I was about to delete the messages, since I was sure they were from Sanjay, when I saw that two new phone numbers also appeared on my call log, both from the UK. My body tensed. How could I have been so stupid to assume all my missed calls were from Sanjay?

  “Christ, Jaya,” Rupert’s voicemail began. “Don’t you ever answer your bloody phone? I didn’t want to tell you this in a message, but since you’re not picking up, you’ve got to believe what I’m going to tell you. I’m so sorry to have gotten you involved in this, love. You have to get out of there. You’re in danger. Lane is one of them.”

  Chapter 35

  I shivered with panic as I listened to the rest of Rupert’s message.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about that burglary,” he continued. “I know I said it couldn’t be related to all this. I was wrong. But I couldn’t have known, could I? Forget about keeping an eye on that lot for me. I don’t care if you hate me, but do it later. I can be back in London in a day or so, and I can meet up with you then if you’re still speaking to me. For Christ’s sake, get away from him.”

  This could not be happening.

  It absolutely could not be happening.

  Lane couldn’t be one of them—whoever “they” turned out to be. It didn’t make any sense. I had been the one who approached him. I couldn’t believe that he would do anything to hurt me. Especially after that kiss.

  Yet at the same time I didn’t believe Rupert would be cruel enough to make something like that up. He was manipulative sometimes, yes, but he had his limits. At least, he always had with me.

  I couldn’t bear to listen to the message again. I looked at the call log. The call had come in after I turned my ringer off while Lane and I were hiking out to the cave.

  Even if I believed he would stoop so low, the calls couldn’t have been a reaction to Rupert being at the cave and having seen Lane and me together. This was no jealous reaction. He believed what he was telling me.

  There was another message on my phone. After the news in the first message, I didn’t think I wanted to hear what I’d learn in the next one.

  I cursed my sound sleeping when I saw that the call had arrived this morning. But this news wasn’t bad. A library assistant at the British Library was calling to inform me that they had found information pertaining to my query. The documents were waiting for me, but they could only keep the hold until closing that day since it was so busy that summer. The connection was fuzzy, so I listened to the message a second time to make sure I’d heard everything.

  That was my out. I was almost a full day’s drive from London, but who the hell cared. I didn’t know if I needed anything else from the British Library, but I definitely needed to get out of the Fog & Thistle Inn and think. I think well when I’m driving. Especially if it’s a Jaguar.

  I hesitated briefly before gathering my things. I’d left that note under Knox’s door. There was no way to get it back before he saw it. But at that moment, I didn’t care. All I knew was that I had to leave that inn.

  Reaching for my sweater, I accidentally picked up one of Lane’s shirts along with it. The scent of cigarette smoke triggered something in my mind. When I had searched Fiona’s room, I had smelled cigarette smoke. There hadn’t been any smoker’s paraphernalia in her room, though. Because Fiona didn’t smoke.

  Knox didn’t smoke either. Derwin was the only smoker of that group, and he smoked those distinctly scented cloves. So Lane had been spending time in Fiona’s room. Either he was up to no good like Rupert’s message had said, or he had another type of interest in Fiona. I didn’t like either scenario.

  I dropped Lane’s shirt and rushed downstairs, my head spinning.

  Malcolm, Derwin, and Lane sat at a table in the pub, drinking tea and eating sausages and eggs.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to no one in particular, “but something has come up and I need to go out of town for a day or so.”

  “Lane didn’t mention—” Malcolm said.

  “He doesn’t know yet.”

  “I spoke with my brother,” I lied with the first thing I could think of, “and one of my cousins is visiting England from India. It would be terribly rude of me if I didn’t see him while he was here.”

  “Oh,” Lane said, standing up. “I’ll go pack—”

  “He’s very old-fashioned,” I said. “I’m afraid he wouldn’t approve of you. I’m going to take the car.”

  Malcolm opened his mouth.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can to finish up the photography,” I said.

  Mrs. Black emerged from the back with a plate of kippers.

  “Pull up a seat!” she said.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m afraid I’ve got to get going.” I pushed open the door.

  “Trouble in paradise, eh?” I heard Derwin ask Lane. Before Lane could answer, the door shut.

  I didn’t care what my excuse sounded like. My thoughts blurred into the background as I shifted gears and accelerated the Jaguar onto the highway headed to London.

  I turned up the car stereo loudly, trying to blast out every thought from my mind. It ended up giving me a headache instead. My temples throbbed as I hit the clutch and the gas, but the ache was better than being alone with my thoughts.

  I stopped in Perth for gas and some lunch. My plan was to console myself with pre-packaged sandwiches, heavy on the mayonnaise, but when I got to the supermarket, all the food only made me think of Rupert and Lane. I passed the wine section and thought about what Rupert would have picked out for a dinner party. Going through the produce aisle, I wondered what Lane would have bought to cook. Or did he even cook? Maybe he was lying about that, too. I left the supermarket and picked up a kebab instead.

  Back in the car I threw my bag onto the passenger seat. The contents spilled onto the seat and the floor. My old phone tumbled under the seat. My cell phone. The realization hit me that I hadn’t gotten the new number until after I had been to the British Library for assistance.

  I had told Jeremy that I would check in with him directly, as I had later that day. There was no way anyone at the British Library could have known my number. Only Rupert and the people at the inn would have access to the new number.

  One of them had set me up.

  I reached Jeremy right away. “Sorry I haven’t been able to narrow down your search yet,” he said.

  “That’s not why I’m calling.” I told him about my voicemail.

  “That’s impossible,” he said. “You were working with me. It’s crazy here this summer. I’d like to see you back, so I’ve got your project on my list to look into. But I most certainly did not ask any underlings to call you on my behalf. Why would I?”

  I think Jeremy liked to hear himself talk. He had a beautiful voice, but I didn’t have the energy to listen endlessly. “I believe you, Jeremy,” I said. “I didn’t even give you this phone number, remember? It must have been an impostor.”

  Jeremy didn’t reply for a moment. “Who would want to impersonate a librarian?”

  “That’s the question.”

  After assuring Jeremy that he didn’t have to worry about librarian fraud on a grand scale, I turned the car back around. Biting into my kebab, I headed back toward Aberdeenshire. I had no idea what was going on, but I was going to find out.

  I would have made it back by the late afternoon except I was so upset that I turned onto the wrong road and spent some time being lost. It was early evening by the time I turned into the parking lot in front of the Fog & Thistle Inn.

  I eased the Jaguar into the dirt lot in front of the inn, knowing I h
ad no choice but to confront Lane. I hadn’t worked out what exactly to say, and I didn’t have a chance to. All my half-formed ideas vanished when I saw what was up ahead.

  I pulled up next to a police car.

  Chapter 36

  As I came through the door, my ears were assaulted by raised voices. Fergus and Angus were gathered with the crew, as were Mr. and Mrs. Black. A young police officer with a bright red face was trying to keep order, but everyone was talking at once. Knox and Fiona held hands and spoke excitedly to the policeman. Mr. Black’s boisterous voice joined in. Mrs. Black wrung her hands. Fergus ranted and gesticulated to no one in particular. Angus shook his head and mumbled what I assumed were meant to be soothing words. Malcolm, in his attempts at calming the group, was shouting himself hoarse. The group fell silent when they saw me.

  It was Derwin who broke the silence. “Your gentleman friend has evidently been up to no good,” he said. A smug expression seeped across his face.

  “Ye know Mr. Peters, miss?” The young officer asked me. I realized that Lane was the only person missing. This was really happening. Rupert’s message had been true.

  “Is he all right?” I asked. “Where is he?”

  “Up in ‘is room, with Constable Kincade.”

  I headed up the stairs.

  “Hang on a moment, miss!” he called, but before he could follow, chaos had broken out again, and the group demanded his complete attention.

  The door to the room I had been sharing with Lane stood open, and a second police officer, one who didn’t look quite as young or as red-faced as the first, searched the room. Lane sat handcuffed to the radiator.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, entering the room.

  “Please step back, miss,” he said. “Who might you be?”

  “This is my room,” I said. “What’s going on?”

  “He’s a thief who nicked some jewels from an important gent,” the police officer answered for him, and went back to searching the room.

  I watched the officer for a few stunned moments without speaking. Of all the things Lane could have done, that was the one thing he couldn’t possibly have been involved in.

  Lane looked pleadingly at me. His face was pale.

  “We don’t have any jewels,” I said. “You won’t find what you’re looking for.” The ruby bracelet was safely tucked away in my safe deposit box. Wasn’t it?

  “He’s got a picture of stolen property, miss, and the word of the gent he stole from.”

  “This has got to be a mistake,” I said. “Who called you?”

  “That’s police business. Now if you could please follow us down to the station, miss.”

  “Am I in any sort of trouble?”

  “There was no mention of you, miss. But we’ll be wantin’ to talk with you as well.”

  The police station was several miles away. Dusk fell as we wended our way through the small roads leading to the village. The station was small and the jail even smaller.

  I paced in the waiting room for half an hour before the younger officer told me I was free to talk with Lane. He led me back to where they were holding Lane, in a clean, windowless stone cell, and left. It was difficult to believe my surroundings. How had I ended up outside a jail cell in a foreign country, looking through the bars at a man who had kissed me so passionately the previous night?

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked.

  “I was hoping you could tell me.” His voice was steady, but it was a forced calmness. His hands were less steady. I saw the quiver of the cigarette he held.

  “Why aren’t they interrogating you?” I asked.

  “They tried for a few minutes,” Lane said. “I told them I didn’t know anything. The younger one, Brown, convinced Kincade to let you talk to me. They didn’t know what else to do with me. I bet these two haven’t seen anything worse than a bar fight.”

  “Who called the police? Do you think it was really the person Rupert stole the bracelet from? But how would they even know we had it?”

  He shook his head, taking a drag of his cigarette and not meeting my gaze. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. It doesn’t make any sense. Unless....”

  “What’s the matter with you, Lane?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed,” he snapped, “I’m in jail.”

  “I know they’re saying you’re a jewel thief, but there’s no way they can prove you stole something you don’t have. It’ll be straightened out in the morning.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “What then?”

  “Jones,” he said softly, “what happened this morning? And last night? Why didn’t you tell me that you had a—”

  “Sanjay isn’t my boyfriend. But I can’t imagine why that matters now. This morning I got a phone call from Rupert. He told me.”

  “Told you what? Let me guess. He wants to get back together with you, so all of a sudden it’s meaningless what we—”

  “It has nothing to do with that,” I snapped back.

  “Then please tell me what you’re talking about.”

  “He told me that you’re involved,” I said. “With them. The bad guys. The burglary at my apartment. You’re why I’m in danger.”

  He kicked the bench in the cell. “That’s why you ran off this morning.”

  “He wouldn’t make up something like that,” I said.

  Lane breathed deeply, trying to steady his voice. “I don’t know what your ex’s motives are,” he said with a forced calmness, “but I swear to you I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do.”

  “Why have you been sneaking around with Fiona?” I blurted.

  A shadow passed over his face for a fraction of a second before he answered. “She’s the only one who won’t talk to you,” he said. “I was trying to get information. She knows as much as Knox about this secret plan of theirs. You know, you two would really be great friends if you didn’t hate each other.”

  “Gee, thanks for being so helpful.”

  “It doesn’t look like you’ve figured out any more than I have.” He spat out the words, but I heard the shakiness in his voice.

  “Maybe I have,” I said, “if I believe Rupert.”

  “Jaya, I swear to you.”

  I searched his eyes, trying to find the truth. “What am I supposed to think?”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  It wasn’t the words. Or even the way he said them. It was the way he looked at me. I saw it with frightening clarity. A jail was a strange place to feel safe, but I knew Lane would never harm me. I felt he would, in fact, do everything in his power to make sure nobody else did.

  “I know,” I said.

  “I need you to trust me.”

  “God help me,” I said, “but I do.”

  “I need you to get me out of here,” he said, flicking out his cigarette and bringing his hands up to the bars that separated us.

  “You mean tonight?”

  He nodded. “They think I stole the jewels.”

  “So what?” I said. “It’s just some stupid ploy. The evidence will wash out by morning, and then they’ll let you go. They can’t hold you indefinitely. I mean, come on, it’s not like you’re some internationally famous jewel thief.”

  “That’s the thing,” Lane said. “I am.”

  Chapter 37

  “I ’m not anymore,” Lane said. “I swear to you, I wasn’t lying when I said I have nothing to do with this situation.”

  I took him in, my eyes not wavering from his. My pulse quickened as the pieces clicked together in my mind.

  “The overly complex tools on your knife I used as a lock pick,” I said. “Knowing to figure out Mrs. Black’s schedule. Thinking to check the floorboards. Realizing the significance of my burglary even before you knew what I did. Even your hair gel that fixes cre
aky doors.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Jaya, you have to believe me. It’s all in the past—”

  “What—I mean how?” I didn’t know how to complete any of my thoughts. There was too much I wanted to say next.

  “I promise I’ll tell you everything once I’m out of here,” Lane said. “But I have to get out of here tonight. They wouldn’t have my prints here in the UK, but there was a little incident on the Continent. I’m not sure if they actually got my prints, but in case they did…These night shift guys don’t know what to do with me, but the day shift might think to run things by Interpol.”

  “This is why you were so suspicious of me when we met!”

  “But I didn’t stick with my skepticism, in spite of my better judgment. The problem was I had the exact opposite feeling. I knew I could trust you.”

  “You really don’t have anything to do with any of this?”

  “I swear, Jaya.”

  In spite of my better judgment, I knew what I had to do. After a last look at Lane, I headed to the front of the police station. I took a deep breath, strode up to the front desk with confidence, and hoped my plan would work.

  “You realize who he is, don’t you?” I said to Constable Brown.

  “Uh…Mr. Peters?” he answered, confused.

  “You do realize what an important person he is back in the States.”

  “He is?” Constable Brown said.

  “What’s this, Ben?” said Constable Kincade, emerging from the next room with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “The young miss, she ah, was tellin’ me about Mr. Peters.”

  Constable Kincade looked at me. “What’s this?”

  “This is a false charge,” I said, “made up against Mr. Peters because he’s a prominent individual. There’s no evidence against him whatsoever. If you would check into the evidence, we could straighten this out tonight. If you keep an innocent American in jail overnight just because you fail to check up on the facts, the consequences will not be pleasant.”