by Diana Palmer
“Constance Riley brought her first-graders to your museum, and I was certainly not with her,” came the reply. “I believe I should report this matter to the police. I don’t like the idea of someone using my identity,” Miss Mason said urgently. “It’s rather upsetting.”
“I’m sure I’d feel the same way. I think it’s a good idea to report it to the authorities. They can contact me if they need verification. Thank you, Miss Mason.”
“No, thank you, my dear,” came the quiet reply. “I’d never have known if you hadn’t phoned.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Phoebe hung up, feeling unsettled. She’d told her mysterious visitor that she’d know the man who sold her the effigy figure if she saw him again. What if the woman was in league with him, and had only come to the museum to check out what Phoebe knew? She sat down, hard, feeling threatened.
CORTEZ TRACKED Paul Corland out to his building site, where he was overseeing the placement of rebar. The site wasn’t too far from Bennett’s.
He was a tall, rough-looking man with dark eyes and blond hair. Cortez flashed his FBI badge. “My name is Cortez,” he said. “If you can spare a few minutes, I’d be grateful.”
“I’ve already explained to the authorities that someone sabotaged my shipment of steel,” Corland said angrily. He took off his hard hat for a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He slammed it back in place, looking furious. “I don’t cheat on support beams!” he growled. “My record probably does look bad, but I can assure you that what happened in Charleston was not my fault!”
“I’m not here about the construction,” Cortez replied calmly. “I want to know if you’ve had anything suspicious going on around here in the past week or so.”
“May I know what you’re looking for?” the man asked bluntly.
“I’m investigating a homicide,” Cortez replied with equal bluntness.
The other man cocked his head. “The archaeologist, right?” he asked.
Cortez’s eyebrows jerked. “Yes.”
“He came to see me,” he told Cortez. “Spouting some sort of nonsense about finding ancient remains that were moved. He thought we’d done it. He wanted to look through some cave on the site here. I wouldn’t let him.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t afford a work stoppage, especially on such a flimsy damned excuse,” he replied coldly. “We’re in hock up to our noses after the lawsuits we faced down in South Carolina. I’ve got my men on overtime as it is, trying to catch up. We were shorted our last shipment of steel. I’m still waiting for it to get here and calling every day to find out where it is in transit.”
“Where is the cave?” Cortez wanted to know.
“I’m not saying,” the man said belligerently.
Cortez gave him a measuring look. “I don’t make threats,” he said coldly. “But if you want a work stoppage, you’re going the right way to get one. I’m looking for a murderer. I’ll go through you if I have to. All it’s going to take is a search warrant and a couple of reporters.”
The man cursed roundly.
“That won’t help matters,” Cortez replied. There was cold determination in his face. “You don’t want me for an enemy.”
“One FBI agent isn’t much of one.”
“I spent several years as a government prosecutor,” Cortez told him.
It was a veiled threat, and it worked. The other man set his thin lips in a line. “What do you think you’ll find?”
“I don’t know. I may not find anything. If I don’t, you won’t see me again.”
“Nice incentive,” Corland said sarcastically. “I’ll take you to it.”
CORTEZ FOLLOWED HIM into the woods beside the building complex and up a ledge to two caves.
“Wait here,” Cortez told the other man, waving him back. He bent down, looking for a sign.
“You tracking?” Corland asked abruptly.
“Yes.”
Corland moved to one side, toward the other cave. “I’m a hunter,” he said, bending. “I can track a deer over rock.”
Cortez glanced at him. “If you see anything, sing out.”
He nodded.
They spent half an hour getting to the entrance of the caves. But there were no footprints, not even in the sandy soil under the overhanging rock ledges.
“Nothing,” Cortez said finally. “I’d stake my life on it.”
“Same here.”
Cortez turned. “Thanks for the help.”
Corland nodded curtly and Cortez turned to go back to his car.
“Hold up a sec,” Corland said suddenly. “There’s one other site with caves, just south of town,” he told the taller man. “Ben Yardley’s putting up a hotel there. I only know about it because the site boss approached me at lunch a few days ago about a mutual employee. He said he’d seen activity on his building site late at night and ran off an SUV on the property. He wanted to know if it was one of my guys up to some bad business. It seems a reputation follows people for life,” he added bitterly.
Cortez moved back toward him, scowling. “One of your guys?”
“I fired a man for laying out of work a few days ago,” he said. “He went to Yardley for a job. Yardley’s site boss asked me why I fired him, and I told him.”
“He drives an SUV?” Cortez murmured, pulling out a pad and pen. “I need the man’s name.”
“Fred Norton,” he said. “He drives a late model black Ford SUV.”
Cortez wrote it down. “Did Yardley hire him, do you know?”
“Nobody’s desperate enough to hire a layabout in these hard times,” Corland said indifferently. “I’m not convinced that Norton wanted a job. He wasn’t much of a hand, according to my foreman. He lazed about and went home.”
“Thanks,” Cortez told him. “You’re off the hook. I won’t be back. But if you think of anything else, call the sheriff’s department and ask for Deputy Stewart. He can get in touch with me.”
“I will,” Corland replied.
Cortez nodded and left him there. He liked Corland, despite what he’d heard about him from Bennett. Now he was going to see the man Yardley, and do some more checking about those caves.
BOB YARDLEY WAS SIXTYISH, short and balding and a live wire. He shook Cortez’s hand firmly and grinned.
“I’ll bet you’re here about that murder investigation,” he told Cortez. “Right?”
The corner of Cortez’s disciplined mouth curved up. “Nice deduction.”
“I started life as a cop,” he replied. “Construction pays better. Sit down.”
Cortez dropped into a comfortable chair across the desk from the other man. “I understand that there’s a cave on your building site,” he began.
“The mountain’s got plenty of them, but there’s only one here. It’s seen some midnight visitors just lately,” Yardley told him. “I was going to call the police, but I never got a look at the person who was roaming around out there. After all, they weren’t touching anything on my site.”
“You told Corland the intruder was driving an SUV?” Cortez pursued.
“That’s right. It was dark-colored but I couldn’t see it all that well.”
“How many times have you seen it out there?”
“Only once, myself, when I came to the office to get some paperwork. But one of my men saw activity out there a few days ago.” He grimaced. “From what I gather now, it might have been the night that man was killed.”
“If you figured out the possible connection, why didn’t you alert the authorities?” Cortez asked.
“I didn’t want to send them on a wild-goose chase in case I was wrong,” he explained with a shrug.
Cortez’s pulse leaped. “I’d like to look around the cave.”
“Sure. I’ll drive you up there.”
“Thanks.”
THE ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE was through another section of woods. There weren’t many flat building sites in this part of North Carolina, which was
mountainous and rocky. The track went over a small wooden bridge and then down a rutted path.
“Stop here, if you don’t mind,” Cortez told the man.
Yardley stopped his pickup truck and cut off the engine.
Cortez got out, bent, and started looking for signs. There were plenty, including a track with a vertical tread missing. His heart jumped up into his throat. Pay dirt!
He flipped open his cell phone and called his unit. “Make it fast,” he told the lead technician. “I’ll wait right here.”
“We’re on the way,” she replied and hung up.
“Found something, did you?” Yardley asked.
Cortez smiled. “Yes, I think I did.”
The technicians bagged evidence, made plaster casts of the tire tracks, and even attempted to lift prints from the smooth granite outcroppings outside the cave. Inside, there was evidence of traffic, but otherwise the search was a disappointment. They found nothing like human remains.
On the other hand, there was a blood splatter on rocks inside the cave. The technicians were very careful to get as much of the sample as they could by employing a diamond saw to lift the section of rock on which the splatter rested.
“That’s a lot of work for a little piece of evidence,” Yardley murmured, having been far too interested in modern forensics to leave the site.
“That’s Alice Jones,” Cortez mused, indicating the lead technician who was supervising the saw. “I’ve seen her have walls cut out, not to mention floors, to obtain evidence. She’s something of a legend back in Texas.”
Yardley shook his head. “Well, she’s thorough. I had some good people in my department, years ago.” He looked up. “Looks to me like the perp killed him here. What do you think?”
Cortez smiled at him. “You know I can’t respond to that. We’ll see what the evidence shows us.” But inwardly, Cortez agreed with the former cop.
IT WAS DARK before Cortez got back to town. The museum was dark, and he had a momentary fear that Phoebe might have gone out to her cabin alone. But when he got to the motel, she was sitting on his bed with Joseph, reading him a book.
Cortez moved into the room, sliding the motel key back into his pocket. “What are you two doing in my room, and where’s Tina?”
“Drake had a night off and he wanted to see that hot new sci-fi flick that’s out, so he took Tina with him. I’m baby-sitting,” she added with a smile. “How’d it go?”
“We found a cave and we think it’s where the victim was murdered. We got trace evidence,” he added wearily. He fell onto the bed beside them and laid back. “God, I’m tired!”
“Have you eaten?”
“No time,” he murmured.
“We have pizza,” she said. “Drake brought it. He said you’d be hungry and you wouldn’t feel like going out.”
He turned his head and looked at her. “Did you encourage him to think that?” he mused.
She smiled. “I knew you’d be tired,” she said. “Joseph, sit with Daddy while I fix his supper, okay?”
“Okay, Bee-bee,” Joseph murmured. He crawled up next to Cortez and patted his chest. “Hello, Daddy!”
“Hello, son.” He pulled the child into his arms and kissed him lazily. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Been good boy,” Joseph agreed, smiling widely.
Watching them together, Phoebe was amazed. She’d never been able to picture Cortez with a child, but he was a natural at parenting. He loved the little boy, and it showed. The feeling was obviously mutual; anyone could see how much Joseph loved his father.
Cortez felt her scrutiny and glanced at her with a grin. “Didn’t know I had it in me, did you?” he murmured dryly.
“I haven’t said a word,” she protested.
She opened the pizza box and took out two hot slices of pizza, lobbing them onto a paper plate. “What do you want to drink?”
“Do we have a beer?” he murmured.
“You drink beer?”
“Once in a while, when I’m really wired,” he confessed, throwing his legs off the bed. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has,” Phoebe agreed as she handed him the plate and the beer from the minibar.
She climbed back onto the bed with Joseph while Cortez sat at the desk and ate his pizza. “The so-called schoolteacher who came to see me this morning was an impostor,” she said.
The beer stopped at his lips. “What?”
“I backtracked her to the elementary school, but the woman I asked for was a stranger. She’s never been to our school. They don’t know who the woman was.” She grimaced. “She asked where we got our effigy figure and mentioned a recent robbery at a big museum in New York. She actually told me that the figure looked like one that was stolen.”
He scowled. “Did she say anything else?”
“No, but I traced the art dealer who sold us the effigy figure a month ago, too. He had a bogus business card. There’s no such gallery and no such person.” She hesitated. “I told her I’d know the dealer anywhere if I saw him again.”
He put the beer bottle down hard.
“I know, it was a stupid thing to do,” she confessed. “But at the time I thought she was a schoolteacher. She even said she wanted to talk to him about buying some pieces to exhibit in the school.” She brushed back her hair nervously, feeling like a prize idiot. She was scared, and it showed.
“You couldn’t have known,” he said softly. “Come here.”
She went to him and he pulled her down onto his lap and bent to kiss her gently. “We all make mistakes. Even big shot FBI agents like me,” he added with a warm smile.
She smiled back and bent to kiss him back, enjoying the sudden intimacy of their relationship. She already felt as if she were part of him.
“Bee-bee kissing Daddy!” Joseph laughed.
Phoebe lifted her head and grimaced. “Little pitchers…” she mused, glancing at the laughing child.
“…have big ears,” Cortez murmured. “And even bigger eyes.”
She got up and went back to Joseph. He hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I kiss Bee-bee, too!” he laughed.
She kissed him as well, hugging him close. “You heartbreaker,” she accused.
Cortez chuckled at the byplay as he finished his food. “I’m going to have a quick shower, if you can handle Joseph,” he told Phoebe, loosening his long hair from its neat ponytail.
“I certainly can,” she assured him. “I’m reading stories about the Cherokee to him.”
He gave her a hard look. “Comanche stories would be more appropriate.”
“Don’t have any,” she replied with a sigh. “This isn’t exactly Comanche territory,” she added ruefully.
He smiled. “Point taken. I won’t be long.”
He took off everything but his slacks on his way into the bathroom, and Phoebe did her best not to stare when the shirt came off. He had an amazing physique, muscular and tanned and sexy. His broad chest was lightly covered with hair.
He noticed her rapt look and turned toward her with an eyebrow lifted.
She needed an excuse to be gaping at him. She cleared her throat. “We were taught that Native Americans didn’t have hair on their faces or chests.”
“My great-grandfather was Spanish,” he reminded her with a wry smile.
“I forgot.”
He studied her almost hungrily, with black eyes that coveted her trim figure under the neat jeans and long-sleeved, yellow V-neck sweater. It matched her blond fairness. “You look pretty good yourself, Phoebe,” he said quietly.
She flushed and laughed self-consciously. “Pull the other one.”
He moved toward her, reaching down to lift her up off the bed and into his arms. “You don’t have an ego at all, do you?” he asked huskily. “You’re devastating, Phoebe,” he added, his eyes dropping to her mouth. “Irresistible, in fact.”
She opened her mouth to speak and his lips came down to cover it, teasing her lips apart even as he caught her
hands and smoothed them into the hair over his chest.
“Daddy kissing Bee-bee!” Joseph piped up.
Cortez let Phoebe go at once, laughing uproariously. “So much for privacy,” he mused, moving away. “Wrong time, wrong place.”
Phoebe watched him go with a frantically beating heart. It was the first time she’d touched him like that, and her body throbbed with unexpected needs and longings.
“Story, Bee-bee!” Joseph said insistently, sitting in the middle of the bed with the storybook Phoebe had been reading from. The print was extra-large, a good thing because her reading glasses were back on her desk at work.
She plopped back down on the bed. “Right,” she said, smiling as she gathered him up onto her lap. “Come here and we’ll finish this up!”
THERE WAS A CARTOON MOVIE on, which Phoebe watched with Joseph while Cortez worked at his laptop computer on the Internet. He didn’t speak, but his hands were busy. Phoebe found herself watching him covertly while he worked. His long, thick black hair was loose and clean. He was wearing a black T-shirt with black sweatpants and bare feet. He looked very sexy.
Joseph dozed off and Phoebe tucked him gently into bed, lying down beside him while Cortez continued with his work.
There was a light tap on the door much later. Cortez opened it and Tina stuck her head in.
“Sorry I’m late, there was a crowd!” she whispered, glancing past him to Phoebe and Joseph. “I can take Joseph back with me…”
“Joseph and Phoebe will be staying in here,” Cortez said quietly. “I’ve got some things to discuss with Phoebe. Joseph can bunk down with her in the second bed.”
Tina gave him a curious look. “Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” she asked worriedly.
“Yes,” he replied. “You lock your door and if you hear anything out of the ordinary, you bang on that wall as hard as you can. Got that?”
She grimaced. “Drake said something was going on, but he wouldn’t tell me what. You’re not going to, either, are you?”
“I can’t, honey.” He smiled. “Did you have a good time?”
Her eyes were dreamy. “Yes. He’s really nice.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What about the policeman in Asheville?” he teased.