“Tent? Right. I forgot, it comes with a tent and a sleeping bag,” said Diane.
“You have one?” said Lynn. Her face erupted into a wide grin.
“No, but David is a real fan. He gave Star a Get Home backpack to keep in her car,” said Diane.
“I have one of those too. I just love stuff like that. Well, I’ve got everything I need, including my e-book. I’m set. All I need is to borrow some trees from one of your displays . . .”
Diane looked at her in horror.
Lynn laughed and laid a hand on her arm. “I’m joking. If you could see your face.”
Diane smiled. “We have a large room in the basement that is finished but empty. There are restrooms nearby. But be forewarned, some of the staff will be joining you with their sleeping bags . . .”
“Then I’d better go pick me out some prime real estate,” said Lynn.
Somehow Diane couldn’t imagine Lynn roughing it in any way, even if the tent was on a polished granite floor with a bathroom ten feet away.
Diane smiled again. “I’m on my way down to the basement. I’ll show you where the room is.”
They got on the elevator with the giant canvas bag that was at least four feet long.
“How are you going to pitch the tent?” asked Diane.
“I don’t need a tie down and it has its own support structure. I think it will do just fine,” Lynn said.
And I thought David was strange, thought Diane.
“I had an idea about Madge Stewart,” said Diane. She explained her thinking about Madge’s art—that she might have made drawings of a man she was interested in.
“What a brilliant idea,” Lynn said. “I’m sure she did just that. Let me know.”
Diane knew Lynn wanted to be right about the romantic angle and Madge’s death—she had a feeling she was.
“I’ll let you know. Neva is checking it out now,” said Diane.
“How about your other problems, those terrible rumors?” said Lynn.
Diane looked over at her and realized she didn’t know about last night’s drama. She related as briefly as one could about Frank’s house being under siege and her being kidnapped by the Terminator and taken to the museum to be rescued by her assistant’s boyfriend.
Lynn stood gaping at her.
“You think that’s something. I had an argument with my new neighbor over his cat,” Lynn said finally.
The elevator doors opened and Lynn stepped out. Diane led the way to the huge room.
“We are making progress with the rumor mill,” said Diane, “but we’ve got a lot of gaps to fill in.”
Diane opened the doors to what looked like a ballroom. They hadn’t decided what exactly to do with it. A ballroom was one option. It would be great for fundraiser functions. It also would be a good area for a series of storage vaults, an idea that Diane liked. That was the thing about having such a large building—lots of options for what to do with the space. Right now it was a big empty room with very hard floors.
“If you change your mind, we have these really cute bedrooms,” said Diane. “Each has a soft bed, a chair and desk, and nightstands.”
“This will be fine,” said Lynn.
Diane left Lynn to set up camp and walked back to the meeting room where she had left Frank and the others. He and David stood when she entered. Frank smiled at her and it actually made her heart ache. She smiled back and fought off tears.
Stop it, Diane, she thought. Break down when this is over.
“Izzy and Garnett went over to Colin Prehoda’s,” said David. “Someone ransacked his office and his home in the same manner your old apartment was tossed.”
“Looking for that package,” said Diane.
“Presumably,” said David. “On an optimistic note . . .” He handed her several photographs. “Supersoldier’s clothes yielded a lot of trace fibers. You’re looking at copper nanofibers from his socks. They’re pretty diagnostic, so if we can find a match at any of the crime scenes, we’re good.”
Diane examined the microscopic image that looked like tangled string.
“They aren’t that unusual,” she said. “I have several pair I use when I’m caving.”
“Ah, but yours are of a different color. These are from a batch made especially for the military,” said David. “They have their own palette of colors—Desert Dune, Combat Black, among other nifty names.”
“Military? Stolen, you think?” said Diane.
“It’s what I’m thinking. I’ve got a call in. The next photographs are the most interesting.”
Diane studied the next set of photographs of microscope images of what looked like honeycomb structures. She cocked an eyebrow at David.
“What am I looking at? I’m not familiar with this kind of fiber.”
“Cutting-edge stuff,” said David. “These boys have been shopping at high-tech places. These”—he pointed at the photographs—“are nanofibers that have been produced through the combination of polyurethane and high voltage. The result is a fabric that can trap toxic chemicals. Cool, huh? The company uses the fabric to make suits that protect from hazardous materials. Or at least, that is what they intend. It’s still in the experimental and testing stage. And I haven’t even begun to tell you about the lightweight Kevlar body armor he had on. These guys somehow got access to some high-powered military closet. It wouldn’t surprise me if some Men in Black arrived at the museum and demanded all the evidence.”
“How top secret is it, if you know what it is?” said Diane.
David looked at her as if she had insulted him.
“Actually, some of the stuff isn’t all that secret, but it is experimental and restricted in its use,” David said.
“This is good, David. Can we find out if the GBI found any of this trace on Madge Stewart’s clothing?” said Diane.
He shook his head. “They haven’t,” he said. “Just normal fibers, they said. But what is normal, really?” He grinned.
“I’ve often wondered that myself,” she said. “How is Charlotte coming?”
“Still humming away. You know, if—”
“No, there is no way we can afford a supercomputer. And if we could, what the hell do you need with that much computing power? Sometimes you scare me, David.” She gave him a lopsided smile.
David and Frank grinned.
“But he can get you smiling,” Frank said.
“Charlotte has connected Ivan Santos with specific drug dealers and smugglers of endangered animals. But we already suspected he probably knew those kinds of people. She is still working on other levels of connections,” said David. “The weather is kind of interfering with her progress.”
Diane looked up as Gregory came strolling into the room.
“I got an e-mail just now,” Gregory said. “Apparently your phones are a little touch and go at the moment. It seems we have some good news. You are no longer an internationally wanted woman, and Cameron Michaels is coming to visit us.”
Chapter 64
Rain spattered against the huge double doors of the museum. The parking lot outside was covered by a thin sheet of water, creating a gray, watery appearance, like a lake on a cloudy day. Diane had closed the museum to the public. The only people coming in were staff looking for a shelter in the storm.
Frank put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.
“I’ve always liked rainy days,” he said.
“Me too,” said Diane. “But, I don’t know, it feels strange today, foreboding somehow.”
“You think it might have something to do with what’s been going on?” he said.
“I’m sure it does. I just can’t seem to shake the depression that’s settled over me.” Diane laid her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“Me too.”
“You know I love you,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “I’m counting on it.”
Diane laughed.
“How is Star doing?�
� she asked.
“She’s helping Andie wrangle kids in that cavern you call a ballroom,” he said. “She’s having fun.”
A large dark SUV pulled up and parked near the door. Diane squinted to see through the gray film of rain. A figure got out of the driver’s side and made a dash for the door. Diane held it open. The man doffed his hat and hit it on his pant leg, knocking off the rain.
“Damn, what weather,” he said.
“Cameron,” said Diane, “it’s been a long time.”
“Diane. Good to see you,” he said, attempting a smile. “This is like the rainy season in the Amazon.”
Diane introduced him to Frank.
“I wasn’t sure you got the message I was coming,” he said. “I went to your home, but the police were there. What was that about?”
Diane explained the happenings of the last few hours. She tried to make the story briefer with each telling of it. Cameron listened with a serious, pensive expression.
“And these mercenaries are after some kind of package?” he said.
“Apparently. And I haven’t a clue as to what or where. I don’t even know if I’m looking for something as small as a ring box or as big as a refrigerator. But you need to get warm and dry. Let me take you downstairs,” she said.
As she turned away from the doors, out of the corner of her eye she thought she caught movement deep in the gray mist where the tree line started. It was subtle. She wasn’t sure she saw anything. She turned her head and smiled at the guard on duty in the lobby. Chanell had told them to be vigilant. She didn’t repeat the warning.
Diane took Cameron downstairs to the lounge where Gregory and Steven were talking and basking in the heat radiating from the fake electric fireplace. Fake or not, it looked cozy.
The two of them rose from their chairs and greeted Cameron, shaking his hand.
“Good of you to come,” said Gregory.
“Nice to see you again,” said Steven.
Cameron nodded. “I realized I needed to be a little more supportive. I’ve been kind of distant from all of you,” he said.
“We appreciate your coming,” said Diane. “Let me get you some coffee. Are you hungry?”
“Not hungry, but a cup of hot coffee, black, would be nice,” he said.
Cameron took off his raincoat and gloves and his straw fedora. Diane thought he looked weary. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hands looked shaky as he handed her his coat. His eyes met hers and for a moment she thought he was looking for something in the depths of hers.
Diane took his wet outer garments from him and laid the coat across the back of a chair and the hat and gloves on the glass table next to it. She poured him a cup of coffee from the pot in the corner, walked back over to where he had taken a seat by Gregory and Steven, and handed it to him. He warmed his hands on the hot mug.
“How is Simone?” he said. “Gregory told me she was critical.” He took a sip of coffee. “I’d forgotten how good your coffee is, Diane,” he said.
“Still in a coma,” said Diane. “We hope she is healing.”
“I was sorry to hear about her. I confess, I don’t quite grasp what is going on,” he said.
“Neither do we,” said Gregory, “but I’ll tell you what we know.”
Gregory laid out everything to Michaels in his meticulous fashion, the rumors, the attack on Simone, and the attack on Diane.
Diane didn’t really want to listen to the whole thing again. But she listened, hoping to hear something that would spark an idea, a memory. She glanced at Cameron’s shoes as Gregory spoke. They had gotten soaked in the rain as he ran for the door. It was a shame. If she wasn’t mistaken, the blucher-style crocodile-skin shoes cost eighteen hundred dollars. She wondered if he was still married. Married men in bureaucratic jobs didn’t spend that much money on shoes.
Frank caught her looking at the shoes. She smiled at him.
Cameron’s clothes were nice too. Expensive. Diane decided he must have gotten a divorce.
David came through the door just as Gregory finished bringing Cameron up to current events. He shook Cameron’s hand and pulled up a chair.
“I just heard from Hannah Payne. Remember her, our photographer in South America? I just got an e-mail from her,” said David. He sounded excited.
Diane was suddenly alert. News. Something. Maybe a piece of information they didn’t have.
“Do you remember how she took photograph after photograph of the massacre that day?”
Gregory, Diane, and Steven nodded. Cameron hadn’t been there. It was not his week to visit. He had come later, after the bodies were removed.
“What did she say?” asked Diane.
“Simone had asked her for all the photographs from the massacre she took that day. She said she mailed Simone a CD of them five months ago. She hasn’t heard from her since.”
“You think that is the package?” said Cameron. “A CD?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s quite a storm out there,” he said. “I had to land in some place called Vidalia and drive up here. Traffic at the Atlanta airport was shut down. Does Rosewood have an airport?”
Diane looked at him, wondering about the non sequitur. “No,” she said.
“Hannah hadn’t really looked at the photographs she took,” said David, who also looked at Cameron a bit puzzled. “She just put them on a CD and stored them.”
“Why weren’t they part of the investigative record?” asked Diane.
“That’s a good question,” said Gregory. “Surely they were part of the record, though I never saw them. The group from the UN did a thorough job. They interviewed all of us for hours,” he said.
“David, do you think that’s what’s in the package?” said Diane.
“I don’t know. There’s something kind of wrong about it. There are more copies available. Why would this particular copy be so important? It’s not a one-of-a-kind set of photographs. That may be part of it, but I’m thinking there is more. Simone got them five months ago. Why didn’t she send them then? It wouldn’t have taken her this long to go through them.”
Diane stood and paced a moment. She turned around. “I wonder why Simone requested the photographs. For whatever reason, perhaps it was something she saw in the photographs that made her want to open Oliver’s boxes, and that started this whole round of investigation,” said Diane.
“Perhaps there was something she thought she remembered,” offered David, “but wasn’t sure. With Hannah’s photographs, she could check her memory.”
“Unfortunately we don’t have Hannah’s photographs here,” said Cameron.
“We will soon,” said David. “Hannah is e-mailing—”
A loud crack of thunder reverberated through the building and the lights went out.
“Damn,” said Gregory.
“There goes the computing power,” said David. “They’ll shut down automatically and won’t come back up until the main electricity comes back on. They don’t take from the generators.” He shook his head and stroked the dark fringe of hair that was a horseshoe circle around his balding head. “I was really hoping we all could brainstorm over the photographs. I know that was going to be painful,” he said, “but we need to figure out if Simone is right.”
Diane felt very relieved that David’s computers had shut down. She couldn’t face those photographs right now. She wasn’t sure she ever could. From the look on the others’ faces, they couldn’t either.
“The generators will kick in in a moment,” said Diane.
Just as she spoke the lights flickered and came up again. “We have a lot of experiments and other things going on in the building that require constant electricity,” said Diane. “David keeps his computers out of the loop to save on electricity.”
“How long will your generators hold out?” said Cameron.
He appeared to Diane to be uncomfortable, disconcerted.
“Several hours,” she said.
“You look like you’re not too good with
severe weather,” Frank said to Cameron.
“No, I’m afraid I’m somewhat of a baby in that regard,” he said.
“We appreciate your braving the weather to come here,” said Diane.
“Had I known you were in for such inclement weather, I’d have had second thoughts,” he said. “But I wanted you to know we have discovered that it was not you who killed the men in South America.” He grinned at Diane. “It was some archaeologist named Lindsay Chamberlain. She must have been the one into drugs also.”
“I am familiar with her,” said Diane. “Her specialty is archaeology of the southeastern United States. This was her first trip to South America. We believe she was kidnapped and escaped. She has a sterling reputation. I don’t think there is any real possibility she is a murderer or a drug smuggler.”
“Really? Well, my informants must have been wrong,” he said. “This is very strange. But the important thing is, you are not on our wanted list.” He smiled again.
“I appreciate that,” said Diane. “One less thing to worry about.” She rubbed her shoulders as if they suddenly felt the extra weight lifted from them.
The door swung open and Korey Jordan entered, heading toward Diane.
“Hey, Dr. F.,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you have guests.”
“This is Korey Jordon. He’s our head conservator,” said Diane. “He keeps all our collections in good condition.”
“Yeah, well, we have some problems there,” he said. “The storm, the electricity, the computers.” He threw up his hands. “The worst has happened—the dermestids are loose in my lab and in several exhibits, including the primate exhibit. I’m thinking they may like resin. This really shit—” He looked at Diane’s guests. “Sorry for the language, but dermestids are a disaster for the museum.”
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