A Matter of Trust

by Diane Noble

  Kate bustled into the kitchen, carrying two empty tiered sandwich plates, one in each hand. Collin was a few steps behind her.

  He surprised her by closing the door behind them as they stepped inside. She placed the dishes on the counter and turned to look at him.

  This time there was no mistaking the warning in his eyes. “Follow me,” he said in a clipped tone.

  She blinked and didn’t argue, but her heart pounded in alarm.

  He led her into the living room, glanced around to make sure no one was near, then stepped menacingly close. “I understand you made an online inquiry about me.”

  There was nothing charming about his accent now.

  Kate backed away from him. “Not about you. About your writing.”

  “Specifically, about my papers having to do with ancient urns such as the souvenir Renee brought home with her.” His eyes glittered and his cool expression turned colder still as he moved closer to Kate. “Stay out of this. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

  Kate swallowed hard and blinked again. She tried to find her voice to tell him he had no right to tell her what to do or not do, but only a squeak came out.

  “Consider this a warning,” he said. Then turning abruptly, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kate’s knees were still shaking when she heard Collin return to Renee and the others outside, his charm once again in place, his banter as lively as the others’.

  Taking a deep cleansing breath, Kate followed. As she sat down next to Paul, he said, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Across the table, Collin’s gaze was on her, and though he wore a smile of concern that matched Renee’s and Paul’s, his piercing eyes were as cold as ice.

  Kate shivered. “I’m suddenly not feeling so well. I think we’d better go,” she said to Paul.

  As they drove home, she told Paul about Collin’s warning to stay out of things. The memory of his cold eyes, his harsh expression, and his unpleasant tone made a shiver creep up her back.

  Paul glanced across the car at her, his lips in a thin line. “You should have told me right away,” he said. “He had no right to speak to you in such a way—especially when you were alone.”

  Kate drew in a deep breath. “I never felt I was in any real danger. Otherwise, I would have.” She reached for his hand. “Honest.”

  Though her words were brave and meant to reassure Paul, Kate had to admit there was something about Collin that made her more than wary. She was afraid of him. Flat out afraid. She shivered again, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

  That night, long after Paul fell asleep, Kate lay awake.

  She couldn’t get Collin out of her mind, or the voice mail demanding three thousand dollars. What on earth can that be about?

  Different scenarios kept running through her head. If Paul didn’t have a serious medical problem that he hadn’t told her about, was someone blackmailing him? The thought was ludicrous, but in the dark of the night, it flitted through her mind and left her wondering. Maybe some huge debt had come due that she didn’t know anything about.

  But she and Paul always shared this kind of information. To keep it from her was so unlike him.

  Then her thoughts turned to Mia, still in the hospital, the doctors still running tests. How much more uncertainty could she take? So much troubled her that night. It was even difficult for her to quiet her heart before the Lord and pray before going to sleep.

  Usually, during her quiet moments of prayer, even after the most disturbing day, her heart was filled with peace.

  But this night was different.

  There were other niggling concerns stirring her brain cells and keeping her wide awake long after bedtime.

  She drew in a shaky breath, again remembering the look on Collin’s face when he threatened her. Should she tell Renee about this other side of the man she’d fallen in love with?

  But what did Kate know about him exactly? Was it enough to upset Renee with her worries about Collin?

  Staring at the ceiling, she finally decided she would wait to tell Renee once she figured out what Wellington was hiding and how he fit into the mystery of the urn. For now, she promised herself she would leave no stone unturned while following leads, no matter the danger.

  Unable to sleep, she decided it was time for a review. She headed into the kitchen for the pencil and pad, then returned to the living room. A few minutes later, she started jotting down what she knew about the case:

  1. Collin helped Renee pick out a souvenir urn to bring home with her to the States.

  2. The urn is similar, if not identical, to one that was stolen nine months ago near where Collin lives in Oxford.

  3. Seven other museum heists had occurred worldwide in the last nine months. The FBI and Scotland Yard had teamed up to catch the thieves.

  4. Dr. Hosea said he couldn’t determine the age of the urn, despite the tests he ran, but he believes it’s probably a copy. Or does he really?

  Question: why didn’t he comment on the Etruscan language and thousand-year difference between language symbols and relief art of Saint Francis?

  Consideration: maybe he did notice these things and didn’t think them important enough to mention.

  5. Dr. Hosea wanted to take the urn with him for further testing.

  Question: if there was even a hint that the urn was authentic, wouldn’t he have insisted that it be kept under lock and key until the FBI, Scotland Yard, and/or local authorities arrived to take possession?

  6. Collin arrived in town ahead of schedule. He said, “You have no idea what you’re getting into.” Yet how did he know she was getting into anything? The only thing that could have gotten back to him was her inquiry about the published papers. Unless he was involved with the Diner Duo and/or Dr. Hosea.

  All this made her head hurt. She sat back in the rocker and stared at the list, her gaze lingering on Collin’s name. One thing for sure, he was a major player and somehow involved in at least the heist from the Exeter Museum of Art and Antiquities. Now that Collin was here in Copper Mill, did that mean another heist was about to go down? Right in front of their noses...at Faith Briar?

  If so, that meant the urn was authentic and of enormous value. And Renee had been duped into carrying a piece of ancient art into the country illegally.

  It was an ingenious plan; she had to give Collin credit for that. He dupes Renee into buying the stolen urn so it can be transported into the country without suspicion. He arrives to take it into his possession, then rides off into the sunset, never to be heard from again.

  An international fugitive who leaves Renee with a broken heart.

  Kate pondered that sad thought for a moment, then another thought grabbed her brain and wouldn’t let go: if she had correctly identified all the puzzle pieces, why didn’t they fit together?

  What was missing?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Saturday morning, Kate straightened up the house in anticipation of John and Melissa bringing Mia home from the hospital. Then she sat at the table and made out a grocery list for a trip to the Mercantile, choosing ingredients for their favorite meals.

  John loved Paul’s famous chili, and Melissa had always favored Kate’s lemon-meringue pie above all other desserts. And, of course, Mia’s favorite food of recent days was blue pancakes. She would work all three into the next few days’ menus. She scanned the pantry cupboard for the needed ingredients, tucked the list in her handbag, and headed to the car.

  She had just crossed Smoky Mountain Road on her way to the Mercantile when she spotted an approaching car, a dark BMW, being driven by someone who, at first glance, looked like Collin.

  She slowed the Honda and watched in her rearview mirror as the vehicle turned east on Mountain Laurel Road, then disappeared from sight.

  Could it have been Collin? There had been a dark BMW parked in front of Renee’s house the day before, but Kate hadn’t thought to ask if i
t was his. Curiosity got the best of her, so she pulled into the lot next to Copper Mill Park and turned the Honda around. She drove back to the intersection where she’d seen the BMW and squinted east. There wasn’t a car in sight.

  She turned east on Mountain Laurel and drove slowly, peering across fields and lots.

  Nothing.

  Faith Briar was now on her left, and she slowed and turned into the parking lot. It was empty, just as it was on most Saturdays. She circled the lot, examining the shrubs and stands of pines, hemlocks, and small oaks that bordered it.

  Nothing.

  As she headed toward the exit, a glint of metal caught her eye, and she pressed on the brake. There, behind the church, almost hidden behind some heavy undergrowth and woody vines, was a dark, sleek metallic object. A car. Probably the BMW.

  And most probably Collin.

  She exited the lot and parked on the street several yards from Faith Briar, then hurried to the back entrance of the church.

  Her knees were shaking and she tried not to think of Collin’s piercingly cold eyes when he told her to mind her own business. She felt her pocket for her cell phone, realizing too late that she’d left it home.

  Then again, what would she say if she did call the sheriff? At this point, she had no evidence that Collin had done anything wrong. She supposed she could accuse him of breaking and entering, but even that scenario was iffy. He’d probably let himself in with Renee’s key.

  Besides, shaky knees or not, she preferred catching him red-handed if he’d come to reclaim “his” urn.

  She pulled Paul’s key out of her pocket, let herself in without a sound, then slipped into the sanctuary and crept silently down the aisle toward the foyer. When she reached the double doors, she attempted to peer through the crack between them.

  She couldn’t see anything.

  Gingerly, she pushed one door open a few inches and squinted around the small room.

  There was no sign of movement, or of anything unusual going on, so she pushed the door open wide enough to slip through.

  The door of the glass case housing the urn was wide open. The spotlight was on, but the urn was missing.

  And there was no sign of Collin.

  He had probably let himself out the front door, she reasoned...until she heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the foyer from the church basement.

  There was no time to hide or even run back into the sanctuary.

  So she waited, her knees threatening to give out at any instant, as the footsteps moved closer.

  When Collin opened the door at the top of the stairs, he didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see Kate standing by the empty glass case, gaping at him.

  He gave her a crisp nod as he brushed past, holding the urn gingerly with both hands. With steady, delicate maneuvering, he returned it to the case and closed the door.

  “Does Renee know what you’re up to?” Kate asked, once she found her voice again.

  He gave her a piercing stare. “No, and I don’t expect you to tell her.”

  “You’re using my friend. It will take a lot more than an empty threat to stop me from protecting her.” Kate’s voice was soft but firm. She hoped it didn’t give away how frightened she was of this man.

  “Empty threat?” He shook his head. “That was not an empty threat. I warned you for your own good. Stay out of this, or someone will get hurt.”

  “It’s too late for that.” She was thinking about Renee. “You’ve played with the emotions of someone I care about, someone a lot of us care about. You’ve deceived her for your own purposes; you’ve put her in danger of arrest—or worse.”

  He stared at her, unblinking, with those piercing eyes. His voice was almost a growl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He moved toward the door, paused, then looked back at Kate. “Again, I give you warning. Stay away from this. There’s going to be trouble, and you’re going to find yourself in the middle of it. And then, dear Mrs. Hanlon, you will find it too late to take care of your friend, yourself, or anyone else.”

  Without another word, he stepped outside. She heard his retreating footsteps.

  Kate stared at the back of the closed door for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. How did he get the case open? She dashed into Millie’s office and found the key exactly where it was supposed to be. Another dot to be connected.

  And what was he doing with the urn, anyway? Why would he take it downstairs? The basement contained a multipurpose room, a small kitchen, and two small Sunday-school classrooms. She couldn’t think of a reason that made sense.

  It took her less than thirty seconds to decide she needed to investigate his actions. She flipped on the stairwell light and hurried down to the basement. She opened the door to the first classroom. It was the nursery, and it looked undisturbed. There was a diaper-changing table where he might have laid the urn while he was working on it, but there was no sign that the table had been used, and none of the cribs appeared to have been disturbed.

  The second classroom door was closed, and nothing seemed disturbed in the kitchen or multipurpose room. She headed back upstairs to the foyer. She’d left her handbag on a chair near the entrance to the church office, and as she went over to pick it up, the urn caught her attention.

  It seemed undisturbed, though she knew Collin had just returned it. He had been careful to replace it exactly as he had found it. She went to Millie’s office, grabbed the key, then opened the case and carefully lifted the urn. The light in the foyer was too dim to see properly, so just as she had done before, she carried it into the sanctuary and sat in a pew by one of the side windows.

  Turning it in her lap, she again admired the beauty of the workmanship—the figures of Saint Francis and Saint Clare; the detail in the symmetry of the composition with the background animals; the expressions on the villagers’ faces on the opposite side, depicting Saint Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio. And then there were the cherubim on either end of the urn and the breathtaking detail in their faces.

  Sunlight was pouring through the window in such a way that the urn seemed to glow from some inner source, just as she had noticed before. Only this time, it seemed even more pronounced.

  She touched the symbols of the ancient language, then she blinked and her heart skipped a beat.

  She held the urn closer. The cherubim at the top of the urn had each been turned slightly toward the figures of Saint Francis and Saint Clare. She hadn’t known until this moment that they were not stationary.

  Renee, following Collin’s original instructions, had attempted to show Kate the steps to unlocking the urn: using her thumbs, she’d pressed the crossed bare feet of the two cherubim at the same time.

  When Renee tried it, nothing happened. But at that time, Kate realized now, the cherubim had been turned slightly toward the relief of Saint Francis and the Wolf of Gubbio.

  Someone had changed the configuration of the urn, and it was obvious who had done it. The question was why? Unless...

  Holding her breath, Kate pressed her thumbs against the tiny feet of the angels.

  The urn clicked open.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kate placed the urn back in the case and closed the door, her mind whirling with possibilities. She thought again about the basement. It was obvious that Collin had taken the urn downstairs for some reason. If he’d simply wanted to open it, he could have done that in the foyer.

  Why would he need extra space, or perhaps privacy, to open the urn? Had he taken something out? Or had he put something in?

  She opened the basement door once more and trotted down the stairs.

  This time, it was no once-over. She pulled a penlight out of her handbag and, starting in the multipurpose room, got down on hands and knees, checking under tables and chairs. She found a few dust bunnies, but nothing else.

  She checked the kitchen counters, looking for anything that might give her a clue. They had been wiped clean. She checked the tra
sh container, but it was empty.

  Next, she headed to the classrooms. The first, which served as a nursery, took her some time. She looked under the cribs and changing tables, shining the beam of her flashlight across the floor. Nothing.

  Kate opened the door to the second classroom, flipped on the light, and stepped inside. A scattering of brightly colored plastic tables and chairs were strewn about the room. It seemed to Kate like the last place someone would come to open the urn.

  She started to leave when something caught her eye. The little trash receptacle was missing its plastic liner. She knew the fresh liners were kept in rolls beneath the old, so she went over to make the replacement.

  There, at the bottom of the receptacle, was some sort of strange battery. She reached for it, frowned, and held it up to the light, turning it one way, then the other. Shaped like a small postage stamp, it wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen. It certainly wasn’t anything that belonged in a Sunday-school classroom.

  She tucked it into a tissue, folded the tissue, and put it in the zippered coin section of her wallet.

  AS KATE SHOPPED at the Mercantile and later put away her groceries, she tried to make sense of finding Collin at the church with the urn. Why did he take the urn downstairs and then return it to its original place as if undisturbed?

  It was disturbed. He had opened the urn and either forgot to lock it again or left it open on purpose. Why?

  She was in the kitchen getting ready to stir together some corn bread, still pondering her nagging questions, when Paul came in the door. He had the day’s mail in hand, a stack of envelopes and ads, and set it on the counter by the telephone.

  He came over to give her a quick kiss, then stopped and waggled his eyebrows at the cornmeal mixture. “From scratch?”

  She nodded. “Your favorite.”

  “A perfect accompaniment for the chili. And the sweeter the better.” He went to the pantry cupboard and pulled out the sugar canister.

  “I already put in one more scoop than the recipe calls for.”