by Diane Noble
Kate gave her a big grin. “Somehow I knew you’d ask. As soon as you get off work. I’ll meet you there. I’m figuring it may be an all-night vigil.”
They left the conference room and headed to the computer bank where Kate placed her handbag next to one of the computers. Before sitting down, she studied her friend thoughtfully. “You know what it all comes down to?”
Livvy shook her head.
“It’s not the urn itself that counts—whether it’s real or just a good copy. It’s not even whether it’s stolen from Faith Briar.” She paused. “What really counts is the harm Collin’s deceit will cause Renee, and it breaks my heart.”
“We’re doing this for Renee,” Livvy said. “And Collin Wellington better come up with some pretty solid answers, or he’ll have all of Copper Mill to deal with.”
Kate smiled. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Livvy left to return to her office downstairs, and Kate sat down and turned on the computer. She typed in her password and clicked on the mail logo. There were the usual ads, plus a few from friends, then at the very bottom, an e-mail from Dr. Hosea. On the subject line, it read, New Information About the Urn. Important!
She clicked it open and began to read,
Dear Kate,
I thought you might be interested in the attached article that just came across my desk.
Sincerely,
Reg
She clicked on the article header, which read, “Replicas of Ancient Artifacts Found to Contain Trace Amounts of Anthrax.”
Kate’s heart skipped a beat. Could she have overlooked that powdery substance in her excitement? She had touched the urn’s interior, looking for a way to open the false bottom. Surely she would have noticed a white powder on her fingers.
There had been nothing.
She clicked on Google and typed “GPS” into the search window. Instantly, hundreds of hits came up, mostly electronic stores where one could purchase them.
She needed to narrow her search. She typed in “GPS tracking device,” then sat back, crossing her arms as articles came up that confirmed her suspicions.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dusk was falling as Kate parked the Honda a short distance from the church. No other cars were on the road, and the parking lot had been empty when she drove by. It was eerily quiet, and getting darker by the minute, as a bank of clouds moved over Copper Mill, obscuring the setting sun.
Thunderheads had been building all afternoon; now she heard the rumble of distant thunder. She shivered and hoped Livvy would hurry.
Fifteen minutes passed. Then ten more. It wasn’t like Livvy to be late. Kate was getting worried.
Three minutes later, she checked the rearview mirror. Headlights winked back at her from the distance, coming from Smoky Mountain Road—not a route that Livvy would take from the library—then turning right onto Mountain Laurel.
Kate slid down in the seat and waited until the vehicle passed. She could think of at least a half-dozen other Hondas of similar make in Copper Mill. She hoped that fact alone would protect her from looking like she was on some sort of stakeout. She eased up slightly, her eyes just above the bottom of the window.
A dark car pulled off the road into the same undergrowth and wooded ivy where Collin had parked on Saturday. She couldn’t see the make of the car from where she was parked.
Kate had hoped Skip would drive by in the black-and-white SUV—as he’d said he would. But so far she hadn’t seen him. As the minutes ticked by, she was becoming even more worried about Livvy.
Finally, Kate couldn’t wait any longer. She slipped out of the Honda, barely letting the door click shut behind her, and moved silently toward the vehicle. She heard the rustle of footsteps ahead of her in the dark.
She felt the first dollop of rain. Then another. She sighed as the rain steadily increased and the wind kicked up.
Someone was obviously heading to the back door of the church, a little-used entrance that opened into a small room—used mostly by Paul and Sam for prayer before services—off the raised platform at the front of the sanctuary. A third door led directly into the sanctuary.
Kate fell back into the brush, hiding as the shadowy male figure fiddled with the lock for a moment, then opened the door. He glanced around, then let himself inside.
The rain was falling faster now, and Kate shivered. She looked back toward the car, hoping to see that Livvy had pulled up behind her and parked.
Or that Skip was cruising by slowly, using his spotlight and peering toward the church.
Her heart fell.
She would be soaking wet if she stayed outside much longer to wait for either of them. Closing her eyes and whispering a small prayer, she waited until she thought whoever it was had moved into the sanctuary, and perhaps to the foyer.
Kate unlocked the door and pushed it open a few inches. She listened quietly for several seconds, and then, hearing nothing, pulled her penlight out of her pocket and flicked the beam around the room.
Empty.
Mustering her courage, she moved inside, leaving the door open a crack for Livvy, should she follow. Then holding her breath, Kate stood by the door leading to the sanctuary and listened for signs of life—footsteps, rustles of movement, anything that would tell her Collin was nearby.
An eerie silence reigned.
She pressed against the door, opening it incrementally until she could look through. The sanctuary was utterly dark.
She slipped through the doorway and, feeling her way along the first pew, found the aisle. She moved silently and slowly, almost afraid to breathe.
Halfway to the foyer’s double doors, Kate heard voices in the foyer. She quickly slipped into a pew and ducked down to the floor. If someone pushed through the doors, she didn’t want to be standing in their way.
She recognized the voices in the foyer. The backwoods’ drawls of Curly and Carrot-top. And one other voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
Then she heard a fourth voice. There was no mistaking whose it was. And the sound of it caused Kate’s blood to freeze in her veins.
It was Livvy. And she sounded scared, or hurt. Or both. Pounding and crying and shouting for help.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
At almost the same time that Livvy screamed, a jagged flash of lightning split open the sky through the side window.
Kate gasped and jerked back, tripping over the pew in her hurry to get away.
There on the floor beside where she had been squatting lay a body. And in that split second of light, there was no mistaking the body’s identity. Or the missing puzzle pieces that rushed into her head...and connected.
Collin Wellington. His head bloodied. His face as pale as the alabaster urn.
In a heartbeat, Kate was beside him, searching for a pulse.
Collin moaned as Kate lifted his wrist. His pulse was faint and irregular, but he was alive.
She sat there for a moment, trying to decide what to do. The muffled sounds of scurrying about in the foyer carried into the sanctuary. She hadn’t heard Livvy’s voice again, which terrified her even more. It also made her more determined to break through the foyer doors and take the thieves by surprise.
A clap of thunder rolled nearby, shaking the little church. Kate’s heart thundered with it.
It occurred to her that Collin probably had a weapon. She didn’t know much about such things, but it might at least help her scare off the thieves and save Livvy.
She felt Collin’s ankle, thinking that was where he might carry a concealed weapon. There was nothing there.
The small of his back was another she’d heard about, but with the shape he was in, she couldn’t roll him over. She patted his torso, hoping above all hope that he might have a holstered weapon hidden there.
He surprised her when he spoke. “Do you know who...I am?” he whispered.
She rocked back on her heels, staring at him. It took her a minute to gather the thoughts that had
come flying into her head the moment she saw him. “My guess is Scotland Yard or maybe MI6,” she said.
He tried to sit up but groaned and fell back again. “How long...have you known?”
“I didn’t put it all together until just now. But my first clue was the computer chip, then I found the tracking device. Things began to come together; this is a sting operation. I just didn’t know you were the head of it, at least until I saw what the thugs did to you.”
There was admiration in his voice. “I...tried to warn...you.”
“You’re not off the hook,” Kate whispered. “You used my friend for your own purposes—”
He started to protest but groaned again.
In the foyer, there was more scrambling, pounding, scraping, and above it all, Livvy shouting for help.
Kate had to do something. And fast.
Collin tried to get up but fell back again. “My other foot,” he whispered. “That’s where it is.”
“I don’t know the first thing about guns,” Kate said, quickly retrieving it.
“Just take...the safety...off. Please. You may need it.”
“I’ll leave it as it is,” she said, her heart thumping wildly. “It’s the element of surprise I’m counting on.” And prayer. Big-time prayer.
She pulled out her cell phone and tossed it to Collin. “Call the sheriff,” she said. “He’s on auto-dial.”
She stood up and, putting her shoulders back, headed to the double doors. Holding the gun straight out in front of her with both hands the way she’d seen it done on TV, she swept through the doorway.
“Hold it right there!” she shouted with every bit of sternness she could muster. “The first one to move will be sorry.”
She hoped no one noticed her knees quaking.
Three men stared at her. Curly gaped. Carrot-top sneered. And Dr. Reg Hosea, who was holding the urn, stared at the gun. It occurred to her that one of the smarter fellows might be able to tell that the safety was still on.
“What about the anthrax?” she said to him. Then she added, “Never mind. I already know it was a hoax, and not a very original one at that. It was that last e-mail, trying to scare me off, that cinched it for me.”
“Cinched what?” Curly wanted to know.
“That Dr. Hosea wasn’t who he’d led me to believe.”
“How’d you know?” This from Reg himself.
“You didn’t know about the Etruscan language, even after I asked you what the symbols meant. The information you fed me about Francis and Clare was vague and uncertain. You also didn’t know about the secret locking device on the urn.”
“It opens?” Curly scowled at the urn, still in Dr. Hosea’s hands. “Why?”
“To hold ashes, you dolt,” Carrot-top said.
Curly’s expression turned to horror. “You mean that thing could have ashes—human remains—inside?” He visibly shuddered.
Dr. Hosea started to move toward Kate, but she held the pistol on him. “Something tells me a minister’s wife wouldn’t know the first thing about shooting a gun,” he said with a sneer.
“Don’t count on that,” Livvy shouted from behind Millie Lovelace’s office. There was a chair propped under the handle, locking her in. “We go skeet shooting together. Once a week. She was champion in her age group. Three times. You better do what she says.”
Kate’s mouth dropped open. She’d never heard her friend lie before. She supposed it was for a good cause, but knowing Livvy, she’d be on her knees pleading for forgiveness later.
“Right now, I say let my friend out from behind the door.” She was looking at Curly, who was still pale from the news about the ashes.
“Go!” she said.
“Hurry!” Livvy said and pounded the door again for emphasis. “You have no idea how dangerous this woman can be.”
Just as he started for the office door, Carrot-top lunged for Kate. She stumbled backward at the exact moment Collin burst through the foyer doors, looking pale and shaken, his forehead bloodied, but walking, and holding a revolver (four times the size of the one in Kate’s hands).
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said to Carrot-top and motioned him back.
“And you,” he said to Curly, waving the gun at him, “do as the lady said.”
Curly pulled the chair out from under the knob, and Livvy, who’d obviously been pushing hard against the opposite side of the door, spilled into the foyer.
Dr. Hosea stepped forward menacingly, staring at Collin. When he spoke, his voice came out in a growl. “Drop the gun or say good-bye to the urn.” He held it out, shifting it slightly so that it wobbled precariously on his fingertips. “I don’t have to tell you that its value is beyond price or what the world will lose should I drop it.”
Collin didn’t budge. The revolver was trained on Hosea.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Dr. Hosea growled again. “I drop it, and no one will ever lay eyes on this treasure again. Not the Exeter, not you, not Scotland Yard. No one.”
For a moment, the only sound in the room was Curly’s nervous breathing.
Collin glanced at Kate just long enough for her to see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “What do you think? Shall we let him do it?”
The others in the room gasped.
Kate couldn’t help smiling. “I’d say go for it,” she said to Dr. Hosea.
Dr. Reginald Hosea set his lips in a thin angry line, then, almost as if in slow motion, he released the urn from his fingertips.
It crashed to the floor, shattering in what Kate thought was surely a million pieces.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Oh no! Were there ashes in it?” Curly patted his pockets for his keys and backed toward the exit to the parking lot.
“No, you imbecile,” Carrot-top said, “no ashes, but look at that.”
“What?” Curly wanted to know.
“The thing that looks like a cell phone.”
“That was inside where the ashes were supposed to be?” Curly stepped toward the shattered urn and stooped to have a look. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
Dr. Hosea seemed oblivious to everything but the shattered urn...until Carrot-top dropped the electronic device in the ersatz archaeologist’s palm.
He looked up at Collin. “So it wasn’t the original after all,” he said. “This was placed inside to track the fake?”
“Until it needed a new computer chip, we knew its location within a few feet one direction or the other.” Collin shot Kate a smile. “I almost pulled off the chip-switch without a glitch, but this sleuth caught me red-handed.” He looked back to Dr. Hosea. “The original has been with Scotland Yard for weeks.”
“How did you get it?”
“It seems that after the Oxford heist, your dynamic duo here headed straight for Florence in a stolen Brink’s truck and some sort of a rendezvous—presumably with the kingpin of the operation.”
Hosea kept his lips in a straight line and didn’t comment.
Collin went on. “The stolen Brink’s vehicle wasn’t exactly invisible, so Interpol had an eye on it, at least until it disappeared in the Chunnel. From what we’ve pieced together, they stopped at a café just outside Florence and left the vehicle unlocked with the stolen urn in back. While they were eating, the Brink’s truck was stolen right out from under their noses, urn and all. The vehicle was later abandoned. When the police found it, they contacted Interpol, and they in turn contacted Scotland Yard.”
Hosea looked confused. “Why all this elaborate scheming then? You got your valuable artifact, wasn’t that enough?”
Collin smiled. “No, we wanted you, the long-suspected crooked collector of ancient, and usually priceless, artifacts.”
Outside, a stream of vehicles with sirens and flashing lights flooded into the parking lot. Seconds later the doors burst open, and Sheriff Alan Roberts and his deputy, Skip Spencer, entered, guns drawn.
“We’ve got it under control,” Collin said. “Thank you fo
r getting here so fast.”
Kate glanced at Livvy, who gave her a thumbs-up, her smile wide.
“SKEET-SHOOTING CHAMPION?” Kate said to Livvy as she dodged a puddle near where Livvy’s car was parked.
Livvy had just finished telling her how she was apprehended by Curly and Carrot-top when they recognized her from the diner. She had just pulled into the parking lot, looking for Kate, when Curly jumped in front of her car, then acted as if she’d hit him. When she stopped to investigate, Carrot-top grabbed her from behind and dragged her into the church, then jammed her into Millie Lovelace’s office.
She grinned at Kate. “I couldn’t think of anything believable for a minister’s wife to shoot. Skeet shooting is a sport that doesn’t kill anything, plus...it was the first thing that came to my mind.”
They stopped next to Livvy’s car.
“So what do you think about Renee’s Collin now?” Livvy said as she opened the driver’s side door.
“He may be a hero as far as Scotland Yard is concerned, but in my book, he hasn’t redeemed himself. He used Renee, and that’s not right.” Kate thought of all that had happened to Renee in her past. Her losses. Her heartaches. She blinked back fresh tears. “And now someone has to tell her.”
“He’s walking toward us right now,” Livvy said. “Actually, make that limping toward us.”
Kate turned. Collin lifted his hand in greeting, then stopped a dozen yards away as if too weary to take another step. “I’m about to be transported to the hospital,” he said. “But I’m wondering if I might have a word with you first, Mrs. Hanlon.”
Kate said good-bye to Livvy, then walked over to Collin. “Whatever it is can wait. You do need to get someone to look at that wound immediately.”
“I’ve had worse,” he said. “But what I have to tell you is far more important.”
Kate helped him walk back toward the waiting EMT van. He leaned against her slightly as they walked.
“It’s about Renee,” he said. “I know you think I used her for this sting operation. And I suppose that was my intent at the beginning.” He paused, and in the ambient light of the law-enforcement vehicles, Kate caught the glisten of tears in his eyes.