She beamed a smile up at him. “You want to come eat lunch with us?”
“Lily!” Kelsey said.
“It’s okay. I have plenty—Mason won’t be joining us,” Sabra said, turning to Brad. “It’s only sandwiches, but you’re welcome to come.”
“I’d love to, but I promised a friend I’d help him with a job.” He turned to Kelsey. “And you were right, I was looking for you. Do you have time to talk a minute about last night?”
“Now?”
“It won’t take five minutes,” he said.
“But I missed breakfast and I’m hungry. And I have questions I want answered before I say anything more. You said you’d see me tomorrow at the museum, so let’s leave it at that.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, she wondered if he might haul her downtown to the Criminal Justice Center to get her statement.
“Okay. Have it your way. Tomorrow at nine?”
She smiled sweetly. “How about eleven? It’s my first day on a new job, and I’m not sure it’d look good to start it off being grilled by the police.”
He gave her a curt nod. “Eleven it is, then, but please be ready to finish giving me your statement.”
As he walked away, Sabra nudged her. “He’s cute. You really should be nicer to him. It wouldn’t have hurt you to answer his questions. Or does it have something to do with why you changed clothes last night?”
“I’ll explain later,” Kelsey said.
After lunch her sister set Lily up with her crayons and coloring book in her room. “Are you ready to explain what’s going on?” she asked as they settled on the sofa in Sabra’s den. “Or why you were back at the museum in tights and a sweater last night after you supposedly left with Brad?”
Kelsey stared at a spot on the carpet. For the hundreth time, she wished she hadn’t confided in her sister about her secret life. “I’m working undercover for Mr. Rutherford—at least I was until he was murdered. Not sure if I still am, but last night I was testing the security at the museum.”
“I thought you were taking a job with the museum as conservator and that I could finally relax.” Sabra pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why do you take these risks? Breaking into buildings . . . getting shot at? And now you’re involved in a murder? I just don’t understand.”
“You’re right, you don’t understand.” Kelsey stood and paced the floor. “You don’t know what it’s like to have a father who left a legacy of thievery and deception. It’s . . . like I have to make amends. I have to prove I didn’t inherit his gene for stealing.”
“Stop pacing! You’re making me dizzy. And you didn’t inherit any stealing gene—there’s no such thing.”
Kelsey stopped in front of her sister. “Okay! I’ll admit it—it’s more than that. When I’m breaking into a computer or scaling a building or coming down in a winch, I get this . . . this feeling of being invincible.”
Sabra took her hand and pulled Kelsey next to her on the sofa. “That I understand. It’s because you crave the excitement. You like living on the edge, always have, even when we were kids and you were jumping out of barns with an umbrella.”
“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?”
“You were lucky you didn’t break your neck,” she said, giving Kelsey a warm smile. “Growing up was never boring with you around, but let’s get back to this job with Mr. Rutherford. I thought you wanted to start your own business.”
“That’s just it—I’m working as a consultant, not an employee. If I do a good job, my business will take off.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “As for the Phantom Hawk, I think she pulled her last job last night.”
“Good. I’ve been worried to death since someone shot at you. Did you tell your policeman about the man who fired at you?”
“No, and he’s not my policeman. I am a little worried about something, though. I left one of the Phantom Hawk cards outside the murder scene.”
“Does that mean Brad and that other officer know who your alter ego is?”
Kelsey lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t think so, but they may start wondering. Brad caught me coming down the pipe, and I had to explain that Mr. Rutherford hired me. I hope he doesn’t look any deeper.”
“But what happened to the card?”
“I don’t know. After we found Mr. Rutherford’s body, I went to retrieve it, but it was gone.”
“Do you think the murderer found it?”
“I don’t think the cleaning lady took it. I’m meeting Mr. Tomlinson at the museum in a couple of hours, and while I’m there, I’ll double-check to see if it could have fallen behind something.” She licked her dry lips. “But if the murderer took it, and he saw my face when I put the card on the desk, he knows who the Phantom Hawk is.”
10
BRAD OPENED HIS BACK DOOR and let Tripod in when he arrived home from church. The dog’s toes clicked on the tile floor as he followed every step Brad made. “Lonesome?” he asked.
A whine and Tripod’s tail thumped for an answer, and Brad knelt and scratched behind the dog’s ears. The thumping became louder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” he said and opened the refrigerator door. Pickings were slim. He should have taken Sabra O’Donnell up on her offer for lunch. Probably would have if Kelsey hadn’t looked so stricken. He didn’t think last night went that bad. At least not personally.
He took out a package of ham for himself and an opened can of dog food for Tripod. “Here you go,” he said and emptied what was left in the dog’s bowl. “Don’t eat so fast,” he said to the dog as his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Elle? His heart dropped to the soles of his shoes.
Answer it or let it ring? His curiosity about what she wanted won. “Hello?”
“Brad, it’s me, Elle.”
He steeled himself against her silvery voice. “Yeah, I saw that on the ID.”
She chuckled. “I’m surprised you answered, considering how rude I was the last time we spoke. I’ve been meaning to call and apologize for that.”
“You weren’t rude, just brutally honest.” “I can’t marry you. Every day I would wonder if you were coming home to me, or if I’d have to plan a funeral.”
“Then I’ll apologize for that. Have you eaten?”
“What?”
“I’m on your street and I have your favorite sandwich in a bag beside me. I really would like to apologize in person.”
She was on his street? “You want to come here?”
“Yes.” She drew the word out as only she could. “But only if you’re interested in accepting my mea culpa.”
Was she saying what he thought? His heart thudded in his chest. Eighteen months ago, he would have jumped at the chance to see her, but now he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk his heart again. “Sure, come on by.”
Evidently his mouth had a mind of its own. But then, it’d be interesting to discover why she wanted to apologize.
Brad snatched up the Sunday paper scattered across his den and checked the sink for dirty dishes. By the time his doorbell rang, he had folded the paper neatly and stuffed his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. He opened the front door, and Elle stood on the other side, as beautiful as ever. “Come in.”
“Thanks.”
She handed him the white paper bag and then swept past him, her rose-scented perfume triggering memories of their five years together. Good memories mostly, he’d have to admit. He followed her to the den area and held up the sack that didn’t smell even remotely like barbecue. “What did you bring?”
“Your favorite. Chicken salad wrap.”
“I believe that was your favorite.”
She tilted her head to the side, placing her finger against her cheek. “You know, I believe you’re right.” Then she gave a low chuckle. “But I think I remember that you liked it too.”
Her blue eyes held such hope that he couldn’t tell her it was probably his least favorite sandwich. But it was two o’clock an
d he was starved. “Yeah. Coke?”
“Absolutely. You get the soda, and I’ll put ice in the glasses.” She walked to the cabinet and took down two goblets. “I love this kitchen.” She looked over her shoulder. “You know, you did a really good job when you found this place.”
Did Elle think she could come in and act as though nothing had happened eighteen months ago? The question must have shown on his face.
She set the goblets down and faced him. “Oh, Brad. Breaking up with you was the worst mistake I ever made. Can you ever forgive me? I was so foolish.”
“I forgave you a long time ago.” And he had. But if she wanted to pick up where they left off, that was another matter.
A sigh whooshed from her lips. “Thank you. I . . . I know you don’t feel the same way you did, but would you . . .” She bit her lip and looked away, composing herself. She took a breath and turned back to him. “You’re not making this easy.”
Elle was beautiful, her long auburn hair framing her delicate features, and she was standing in the kitchen just the way he’d imagined when he bought the house.
“I, uh, don’t know what to say.” His palms were sweating. How many times had he dreamed this very scene in the months after Elle had given him his ring back? “What changed your mind?”
She came around the island and took his hands. “I missed you more than I ever dreamed I would. I don’t feel complete without you.”
“But I’m still a cop.”
“Yes, but Andi said when I ran into her the other day that you’re working in the Cold Case Unit now. I figure the bad guys won’t be shooting at you.”
“There’s no guarantee that won’t happen.”
“But you’ll be working on cold cases, not hot ones with people with guns.”
She had no idea what he did.
Elle touched his cheek. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Her blue eyes held him captive, and he gave up all pretense that her nearness didn’t confuse him. Everything in him wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her. But she’d broken his heart before, and he wasn’t about to let her do it again. He stepped back. “I’ve missed you too, but I can’t just forget what happened.”
Disappointment filled her eyes, and she took a shaky breath. “I understand. I’m not saying we should pick up where we left off, but could we start over? Maybe dinner at my place Saturday night . . . or I could come and make something here?”
Brad’s heart hammered his ribs. He wanted his cool, rational brain back, but Elle had turned him upside down. He heard himself say, “That sounds wonderful.” And wondered if he’d lost his mind.
But seeing her here, in the house he’d bought for them to live in, reminded him they’d had something good once. Maybe it wasn’t too late for them.
11
KELSEY LOOKED AWAY from the computer screen and rubbed the back of her neck. She’d been at the computer for two hours now, and the walls in the small bedroom she called her office were closing in. However, she had managed to get past the firewall on the museum’s computers, but there was another layer of security that asked for passwords to the employee records she was trying to hack. Besides testing the system, she’d wanted to see if her name had been added to the list of employees. Not that she expected it to be.
Anyone without an employee badge wouldn’t be admitted to the inner sanctum of the museum through the employee entrance. But she’d noticed last night that getting to other parts of the building was as simple as going through a door marked “Employees Only.” While that door wouldn’t give her access to the conservator’s office, she planned to see this afternoon what it did give her access to. Of course, she could go in like she had last night. But she doubted the window was still unlocked.
There was one more thing she wanted to check before she left. Kelsey launched a program that soon gave her the IP address of the museum’s closed-circuit TV. She’d noticed cameras in the hallway of the museum, and since the murderer hadn’t entered the storage room from above, how had he gotten past the cameras mounted in the hallways?
That was what she wanted to check—the camera feed from last night. Tomlinson had said the cameras were installed last week. Perhaps they hadn’t changed the default passwords yet. After a few clicks, she was at the login site for the closed-circuit camera. After copying the camera company’s name, she opened another site and pasted in the name and then added default passwords into the Google search engine.
In her experience even companies with good security systems often failed to change those settings. Time to see if Rutherford had on the new system. Once she located the information that was free for the taking, she returned to the camera site and typed in admin for the user name and 12345 for the password.
When the site came up, Kelsey released the breath she’d been holding. There were five cameras in operation. Now to download the program that would allow her to watch the videos. Once she had the program running on her computer, she clicked Camera 1, and the live feed opened up, showing people milling about in the ballroom. Good. At the top of the screen was the playback button.
After a few false starts, she found the camera for the hallway that led to the storage room and started the recording at 6:00 p.m. Saturday night. Looked good. Kelsey moved the button, fast-forwarding the feed, and then suddenly stopped when the screen went to snow. “Uh-oh,” she murmured and checked her watch. Uh-oh again. Her appointment with Tomlinson was in ten minutes. Time disappeared when she was hacking into systems.
But at least now she knew something about the killer—he knew how to turn the cameras off and on. She would check to make sure, but she didn’t believe for one second the camera had failed. Either the killer was computer savvy or worked for the security firm and had access to the cameras. She wished she’d gotten a list of the missing artifacts. She would ask Mr. Tomlinson for one during the meeting.
Before she shut her computer down, she checked her email, scrolling through the inbox. When a contact form from her website popped up, she caught her breath. Yes! It was a company interested in her security services. She clicked on the attachment and scanned the specs. Oh, wow. They needed everything from network security and cameras to an alarm system. She filled out the form and sent it back. A return email said they would contact her in a day or two for an appointment.
Kelsey shut down her computer and slipped it into its case to take with her. Her career as a security specialist was looking up. She checked her watch. Filling out the form had taken longer than she’d thought, so she hurried to her car.
The Sunday afternoon traffic was light. Living within a few miles of the museum was a plus, she decided as she pulled into the Pink Palace drive. Sitting back off the road, the mansion was quite an eyeful. She’d read somewhere that people back in the 1920s took Sunday drives out in the country just to see the thirty-six-thousand-square-foot mansion that Clarence Saunders was building. They soon dubbed it the Pink Palace because of the pink marble covering it. Too bad the founder of the modern-day grocery store never lived in it, having lost all of his money in the stock market before it could be completed. Maybe he would be proud to know it was a world-famous museum.
It looked as though there was a good crowd touring the exhibits today, but she’d seen that on the live feed. Kelsey dialed Mr. Tomlinson’s number, and when he answered, she said, “I’m here at the front entrance.”
“Come around to the employee entrance, and I’ll meet you.”
Tomlinson met her at the sign-in station. “Once you fill out your paperwork tomorrow, you’ll be given a badge,” he said as they walked to his office.
Kelsey shifted the laptop she’d brought to her left hand. “So, I’m keeping my job?”
“As far as I’m concerned. I especially need you now since the present conservator may have to take an early maternity leave.”
“I was actually referring to the security part of the job. Do you still want me to investigate the thefts?”
“That will depend
on Jackson King, the new security director.”
“I talked with him last night, and he didn’t say anything about me not continuing.”
“I’m surprised you want to continue after what happened to Rutherford.”
“I was hired to find out how the thefts happened, and I had barely started.” It was important that she finish the job he’d given her.
“I just figured the police would handle all of that,” he said as he stopped in front of a closed door and keyed in a code.
She followed him into a spacious office. “They’ll be focusing on his killer, not necessarily how the past robberies occurred. If a breach in security happened once, it could happen again.”
Tomlinson rubbed his jaw with his thumb. “I don’t want you putting yourself at risk.”
“Don’t worry.” She was already at risk. Her best defense was to find the person responsible. And besides, while working as a security analyst wasn’t as dangerous as being a cop, she accepted that it held a certain amount of risk. “I’m not looking for a person, per se—that’s the job of the police. I’m searching for a process—how the thief found a way around the security the museum has in place. Who has keys to the entire building?”
“Three people—Rutherford, me, and I keep my set in the vault, and my brother Mark. But I know he’s not the thief.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Although she wasn’t ruling him out, either. He was the only person who would have access to every room in the complex. “Why is your set of keys in the vault?”
“I don’t like carrying them around and there are too many people in and out of my office. If I ever need them, I can ask the registrar to let me into the vault.”
She nodded. “Do you have a list of the stolen items? And who do I talk to about the security cameras? The one for the hallway was off last night, but it’s back on today.”
“What?” Tomlinson said. “How do you know that?”
“I tapped into the closed-circuit TV.”
He sat on the edge of his desk. “How? Never mind. Save it for Jackson. He’ll be here in a few minutes. While we’re waiting, I’ll find that list of stolen artifacts. I need to send a copy to Sergeant Hollister as well.” While he looked for the list, she sat in the leather Queen Anne chair across from his desk.
Justice Buried Page 7