“Maybe so.” She sighed, knowing it was true. She liked Daria, but knew only trouble would come from her asking too many of the right questions. It was only a matter of time before she shared what she knew with her FBI friend. If she hadn’t already…
“About the boy.”
“What about him?”
“What if he talks?”
“The boy isn’t going to talk.” She tried to keep from sounding exasperated. “And even if he does, what’s he going to say? ‘I’m a gallas in training and the priestess told me what to do?’”
“You’re being awfully cavalier.”
“Look, the boy doesn’t know my name. He’s seen me once, at night, in a dark basement. There’s no way he can identify me. He has no idea who I am or where to find me.”
“You’re forgetting about the older brother,” he reminded her.
She hesitated for a moment, and she knew he sensed her uncertainty.
“He knows you,” he reminded her.
“Of course he does,” she snapped. “But he’s also a gallas. He’d never betray a high priestess of Ereshkigal.”
The man’s laugh was hollow and mocking, and her anger flared.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” she said. “Unlike someone else I could name, he believes this. His father was a gallas, and his grandfather before him. Since his father died, the responsibility-his family’s honor, for God’s sake-has fallen to him. His destiny is to safeguard the priestess, to guard the sacred treasures-”
“Oh, please, I can’t listen to any more of this crap.” He sneered. “No one in this day and age really believes that stuff. It’s all bullshit.”
“To you, it’s bullshit. To him, it’s as much a part of his life as breathing. If you don’t understand anything else about this whole deal, understand this.” She tried to keep her temper in check. “He believes. He will cut out his own tongue before he’d give me up.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.” But even as she said it, she wondered if she was placing too much trust in the wrong person.
“Your momma didn’t know what she was starting when she fed you all that priestess crap.” He was mocking her again, and she hated him for it.
“Don’t be so disrespectful. My mother was a believer,” she insisted.
“Sure she was. That’s why she let your father steal all those items.”
“She didn’t know.” She bit her lip.
“Right. She just figured he could afford that big house and a new car every couple of years on a security guard’s salary.”
“She didn’t know,” she repeated emphatically.
“Whatever. Look, keep the artifacts we’ve gotten back hidden, would you please? I have buyers lined up who are willing to pay top dollar. Everything’s been spoken for except for two items. Let’s not blow this now.” He paused. “Where are they, by the way?”
“Under the floorboards in the carriage house,” she told him, then immediately regretted it, though she couldn’t have said why.
“Don’t forget to give me a call if you need me.”
“Will do.”
“We have to take care of Daria McGowan.”
She hung up on him and went to the window. It seemed that every conversation she’d had that morning had disturbed her.
Bastard. Talking about her mother like that. Her mother was a priestess. She was. She’d said so.
She rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt like crazy. It was the things he said.
He was seriously pissing her off.
Maybe it was time to move on without him. She could find someone else to sell the artifacts.
She really didn’t need him now that most of the artifacts had been returned. The thought soothed her and the pain in her head started to ease. What she did need was a plan to eliminate not only Daria, but everything that was getting on her nerves.
Including him.
24
“Daria.”
Daria turned and waved when she saw Vita bustling across the lawn.
“I’m glad I caught you.” Vita appeared slightly out of breath. “Dr. B. was trying to get in touch with you.” She stopped and fanned herself with her right hand. “Good Lord, it’s another scorcher, isn’t it? It must be ninety in the shade.”
“Close enough.” Daria smiled. “It’s eighty-eight on the back porch.”
“Dr. B. wants you to meet her at the museum. She’s with the architect and they want your input on something.”
“Why didn’t she call instead of making you run all the way over here?”
“She said she did, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I must have left my phone in the kitchen.” Daria put down the bowl of water she was holding. “Come in while I get my things. I’ve made sketches of some of the displays for the new exhibit. I’m guessing that’s what Louise wants me to show the architect.”
“I’m sure that’s it.” Vita followed Daria up the steps and into the kitchen.
“Can I offer you some water, Vita? You look flush with the heat.”
“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
Daria took a glass from one of the overhead cupboards. “I usually have bottles of spring water in the refrigerator but I’m afraid I’m all out.”
“Tap water is fine, really.”
Daria filled the glass at the sink and handed it to Vita, who drank gratefully. When she was finished, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this house but once or twice in all the years I’ve been at Howe.”
“How many years is that?”
“Most of my life, so it seems.”
“You grew up in town? You went to school here?”
“I did.” Vita nodded. “I didn’t graduate, though. I got married when I was nineteen and dropped out.”
“What was your major?”
“Ancient history.”
“Oh, mine, too, the first year. Was there any particular period that you were drawn to?”
“Not really.”
“Do you have a family, Vita? Children?”
“Unfortunately, no. My marriage didn’t work out. Lasted less than a year, actually.” She shrugged. “I never tried it again. Once bitten, twice shy, and all that.”
“How long have you worked for Howe?”
“Oh, my goodness, let’s see. It’ll be twenty-two years come October.” She stared into space for a moment. “I did think about coming back for my degree, but my mother was ill-had been for several years-and there just didn’t seem to be time. I was busy caring for her. That’s really why my marriage fell apart-he thought I was spending too much time with her, but really, what could I do? She was my mother and she needed me-”
She realized she was talking too much, too fast. She stopped and took a deep breath. “Anyway, after she passed on, I got a job here at Howe and never left.”
“I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of changes over the years.”
“Yes, indeed. There’s been a lot of water over that dam.” Vita finished her drink and set the glass down on the counter.
“Was the museum ever open while you were here?”
“Just the dinosaur exhibit, when I was younger.”
“I’d love to hear about it sometime.” Daria hoisted her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go out through the front door, since we have to go in that direction anyway.”
Daria locked the back door before leading Vita through the swinging door into the hall.
“This is a really beautiful place,” Vita said admiringly, as she glanced from side to side. “I think I was here once for a reception of some sort. I remember the twin parlors on each side of the foyer.”
“It is a beautifully designed house. I hope Iliana-my great-grandmother-was happy here. I’m sure it was hard for her, after her husband died, to stay here and raise her children alone.”
“Do you ever feel her here?”
“No, I don’t.” Daria laughed a little. “Louise said there was some talk about
her haunting the place, but you can’t prove that by me. I wanted to find, I don’t know, a sense of her, maybe…but I haven’t. I’m sort of disappointed, to tell you the truth.”
“The past does have its pull, doesn’t it?” Vita stood in the center of the front hall. “You feel it, don’t you?”
“I suppose I do. I guess that’s why I went into archaeology to begin with. That and the fact that I was surrounded by it growing up.”
“You really can’t escape the past.” Vita looked upward at the stairwell. “Inevitably, you’re drawn into it.”
“I suppose.” Daria got her house key out of her bag. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Vita replied. “I’m ready.”
There was little chatter on the way across campus. Vita was preoccupied, and out of breath by the time they arrived at the museum. There was one guard at the front door, a tall, well-built man of indeterminate age, who stood stoically by as Daria and Vita made their way inside.
“I thought there was supposed to be more than one guard,” Daria said as they stepped inside the cool of the building.
“Maybe the others are making rounds through the building, or they could be at lunch. Dr. B. said something about a reduced staff for an hour in the middle of the day. The university guards, like the one out there now, step in and cover for the bank’s people.”
Daria looked around the Great Room. Louise was nowhere in sight.
“I thought Louise was here with the architect,” she said.
Daria walked down the unlit hall. “Louise? Are you down here? Louise…?” She turned to Vita. “Where could they be?”
“They were here a while ago. Maybe they went downstairs,” Vita suggested. “ Maybe Dr. B. decided to show some of the artifacts to the architect.”
“Maybe.” Daria went to the stairwell and called, “Louise?”
“They might be in one of the back rooms. Come on, I’ll walk down with you.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.” Daria started down the steps. “I know my way.”
“I’ll just check to see if Dr. B. wants me for anything else.”
Vita followed Daria down the steps.
“You’d think she’d turn the lights on if she came down here,” Daria said when they came to the bottom of the stairs and gazed down the dark hallway.
“She’s probably using a flashlight,” Vita said as she walked along. “I think the insurance people said something about the wiring being a hazard, and keeping the electricity off until it was replaced.”
“I suppose that’s a possibility,” Daria said. “Louise?” she called.
Vita opened the door to the room where the Jacobs collection was housed. The room was dark, but the room beyond, where Alistair’s find was stored, was dimly lit.
“They must be in there.” Vita pointed toward the light. “Go on in, Daria. I’m right behind you.”
Daria stepped into the room and looked around. A man was leaning against one of the crates.
“Stefano,” she said. “What are you doing here…?”
25
C onnor could not remember the last time he felt this free or this good. He knew enough of life’s twists and turns to know that things could change on a dime, but for right now, he couldn’t think of anything better than being behind the wheel of a fast car on a winding country road, on his way to see his favorite girl, singing along with Jimi Hendrix’s “Gyspy Eyes,” a silly dog in the passenger seat next to him, hanging out the window catching a faceful of air.
He didn’t hear the phone ringing until the song played out.
“Shields.”
“Connor, it’s Will Fletcher.”
Connor turned off the music and slowed the car.
“You get a chance to run any more of those names I gave you?”
“Ran ’ em all. I e-mailed everything to you this morning, but when I didn’t hear back from you, I thought maybe I should give you a call.”
“I haven’t checked my computer yet today. What did you find?”
“Harry Dragonis.” Will was not one to waste words. “Born Hakan Drago, February 22, 1937, Adana, Turkey. Family immigrated here in 1946. Worked as a security guard at Howe University from 1958 through 1988. Married a Turkish girl, Ayfer Demerkan, in 1955. One child, Vedat, born 1962. Wife died in 1984. Body was returned to Turkey for burial. Hakan-Harry-died in June of 1988. Don’t know what happened to the daughter after that.”
Connor drove slowly, thinking it through. “Look, thanks-”
“Wait, there was something else. Stefano Korban. Interestingly enough, he was also born in Adana, Turkey. Immigrated at age nineteen. Guess which year that would have been.”
“Can’t.”
“July of ’88.
“Right after Drago died?”
“Less than a month later.”
“Think you can find out why?”
“I can find out anything if you give me enough time.”
“Thanks. Let me know if you come up with anything else.”
Connor hung up and thought it through.
Harry Dragonis the dealer had been a security guard at Howe and had selectively helped himself to some prime collectibles.
Way to cut out the middleman, Harry.
Stefano Korban arrived here shortly after Drago-Dragonis-died in 1998. What connected Drago to Korban?
Connor wasn’t sure what it all meant, but he was damned sure it wasn’t coincidental. It was all part of the same puzzle. Right now, he was still missing a few pieces, but he knew from experience that if he followed his instincts, they would lead him to the solution.
He dialed Daria’s number and was disappointed when it went right to voice mail.
He placed the phone on the console and drove under the arch that marked the entrance to the university. When he reached the lot, he parked in his favorite spot under the oak tree. In the fall, when he came back to see Daria, he thought he’d have to park elsewhere so that acorns wouldn’t ping off his precious Porsche. He snapped the leash onto Sweet Thing’s collar and got out of the car. The dog leaped across the console and out the driver’s side door. Connor slammed it, locked it, and jogged down the path leading to McGowan House.
When they got to the back door, he found it was locked. Sweet Thing barked several times, staring up at the door.
“Maybe she’s out front. Come on, girl.” Connor and the dog trotted around the side of the house to the front porch.
“I know you’re happy to be home,” Connor said. He knocked, then rang the doorbell, but there was no answer.
The dog jumped up at the door, barking and whining.
“I don’t think she’s in there, girl.”
He dialed Louise’s office, and was surprised when she, rather than her assistant, answered the phone.
“Louise, it’s Connor. I was trying to catch up with Daria. She’s not at the house, so I was wondering if your meeting was still going on.”
“We finished well over an hour ago. As a matter of fact, I just got back from the bank. I had a meeting there with the architect. He dropped off his numbers for the proposed renovations at the museum.” He could hear the shuffling of papers. “I have to say, things are looking very good.”
“Great. I’m happy to hear that.” Sweet Thing started pulling him to the edge of the porch steps and he tugged back on the leash. “Louise, if Daria shows up, would you ask her to give me a call? I’m at the house but I’m locked out.”
“Sure. And as soon as Vita gets back from lunch, I’ll ask her to run over with an extra key for you.”
“Vita.” He said the name aloud as if testing it. “Louise, what do you know about Vita’s background?”
“I know she grew up around Howeville, and that she was married briefly when she was young. She’s worked at the university for a long time. Why?”
“Do you know what her maiden name was?”
“I don’t think I ever heard her mention it. She’s been Landis for as long as I’ve known her
.”
“Thanks.”
He hung up the phone, not liking the thoughts that were running through his mind.
Vita.
Vedat.
He tried Daria’s phone again. Still no answer. The uneasy feeling grew. Where was Daria?
Logic told him she was likely to be in one of three places. She wasn’t here at the house and she wasn’t at Louise’s office.
That left the museum.
“Come on, girl.” Connor led the dog down the porch steps. “Let’s find Daria.”
“Where are the guards the bank sent over?” Vita asked Stefano.
“Dismissed,” he said simply.
Daria looked from Stefano to Vita.
“What’s going on, Vita? I thought Louise and the architect-”
“I’m sorry, Daria, I really, really am,” Vita said softly. “I really do like you. Under other circumstances, I’d have liked to have gotten to know you better.”
“Please, cousin.” Stefano was becoming impatient. “We really don’t have time for this.”
“Vita, I don’t understand what’s going on here, but I think I want-” Daria started toward the door, but Stefano blocked her way.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid we can’t let you leave, Daria.”
“It’s too late, honey,” Vita told her. “You just know too much.”
“I don’t understand,” Daria repeated.
“It’s only a matter of time before you do.” Vita shook her head. She turned to Stefano. “Do it quickly.”
“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “It has to be like the others.”
“Why?” Vita frowned.
“Use your head, Vita. She’s the great-granddaughter of the guy who dug it all up and brought it here. If we’re going to pull this off, make it look like a religious ritual, she has to be killed just like the others were.”
“Oh my God, you killed those people?” Daria gasped. “You killed all those people…?”
The closer they came to the museum, the more agitated Sweet Thing became. When the front door opened and the guard stepped out, the dog began snarling and snapping, demonstrating a viciousness Connor never suspected her capable of.
“Stop it,” Connor commanded. “Stop it, girl. Sit. Stay.”
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