Justice Buried

by Patricia Bradley

  Kelsey waved her off. “Tell me something. Someone said that a rare stamp was stolen Saturday night when Mr. Rutherford was killed. Do you know if any other things are missing?”

  Erin sipped her water. “You’ve heard about that already?”

  She nodded, hoping she hadn’t pushed for information too quickly. “Can’t remember exactly who said anything, but I think it was at the fundraiser after his body was found.”

  Prodding her newfound friend to gossip made her feel guilty, but today was her only chance to ask Erin about the thefts. It was too bad she wasn’t keeping this job. She would enjoy having the chance to know Erin better . . . but she wasn’t. This was the first of what Kelsey hoped would be many security jobs.

  “Oh yes, I can see how his murder might make people’s tongues looser. The thing is, a few artifacts have gone missing over a period of time, but I figured they were simply misplaced.” She studied her fingernails. “That was before Saturday night. That stamp wasn’t misplaced. And poor Mr. Rutherford must have caught the person in the act.”

  Kelsey glanced toward the doorway. “The way security is around here, I don’t see how anyone could even get into the vault. You have to have a key and a code.”

  “I’ve wondered if it’s someone in security,” Erin said. “There are three keys that fit all the locks. Mr. Rutherford had one and so does Mark Tomlinson, but he never lets his out of his sight. He never even lets anyone in his office. Oh, and Robert Tomlinson has one. But as far as I know, he’s never used his key—he always relies on his brother.” She leaned forward. “Mark seems like a grouch, but I think it’s because he has so much responsibility on his shoulders. There are seven brothers in that family, and Mark is the oldest and takes care of their frail mother. Robert is the youngest, and Mark even helped to put him through college. He’s always looking out for him.”

  Her phone beeped with a text, and Erin glanced at it. “My husband is here. Thanks again so much.”

  Erin was full of information, and not just about the museum. Kelsey leaned back in the chair and sipped her peach tea. The chicken salad had been delicious, and she certainly hadn’t expected to find peach tea. Both had refreshed her after an overwhelming morning with Erin showing Kelsey around before and after her doctor’s appointment, and the collections director filling in while she was gone. Right now, it seemed the restoration of the circus was the primary focus, and it was a huge undertaking.

  She was prepared for the task, though. The three years she’d spent restoring Native American artifacts at her last job would come in handy here. Her cell phone rang, and Erin’s number showed on her caller ID.

  “Did you forget something?” she asked just as Brad and a woman she didn’t recognize entered the sandwich shop. A cop, judging by her serious face and the gun attached to her side.

  “Yes. I don’t know where my mind is. While you were filling out your paperwork, the shipping department brought up a crate from Coon Creek.”

  “Coon Creek . . . what is that?”

  “The science center—you haven’t heard of it? It’s this big, important fossil site.”

  Kelsey laughed. “I restore art, not fossils.”

  “Well, you’ll be dealing with a few fossils too. The archaeological site is connected to the museum, and they send important finds from time to time that you’ll have to catalog. I wasn’t expecting anything and have no idea what they’ve sent.”

  “Got it,” she said as Brad and the woman approached. “Uh, Erin, can I get back with you? I have visitors.” She disconnected and nodded to Brad, then to the woman.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Afternoon.”

  Brad looked good in his white shirt and navy pants. The woman detective had opted for a red blouse and khakis and was all business.

  He checked his watch. “Give or take thirty minutes.” He gave her a small smile before he nodded to the other cop. “Kelsey Allen, Detective Rachel Sloan. She’s investigating the Rutherford murder.”

  “Why don’t you sit down?” Kelsey said, indicating the two empty chairs at the table.

  Once they were seated, Detective Sloan took out a notebook and pen. “I’d like to get your statement,” she said.

  “What happened to the other detective?” Kelsey had liked him. This one looked like a hard case.

  “He’s investigating another case, one involving a break-in at a building next to your stepfather’s auto parts company.”

  Even before Sloan shot Brad a questioning glare for answering, Kelsey felt her face go icy cold. Did they know she was the Phantom? When she could finally talk, she kept her voice low and said, “I hadn’t heard of a murder there, just a break-in.”

  Maybe she should tell Brad what happened Thursday night. Her stomach roiled. Maybe she should have told him Saturday night. If she admitted it now—

  “What made you say murder?” Sloan asked.

  Still looking at Brad, Kelsey lifted a shoulder. “Lieutenant Lane is a homicide detective. Who was murdered?”

  “Troy Hendrix,” Brad said. “He had an office on the eleventh floor.”

  Brad clearly expected something from her, but only one thing ran through her mind. If anyone discovered she was the Phantom Hawk, she’d be connected to not one murder but two. She furrowed her brow, Thursday night’s activities flashing through her mind. She looked up and saw he was still waiting. “Don’t know him.”

  Detective Sloan opened her notebook. “Then let’s get to my murder case. The notes indicate Rutherford hired you to investigate thefts occurring at the museum. Is that correct?”

  Kelsey glanced around, hoping no one could overhear Sloan’s questions. The nearest person was two tables away. “I’m working undercover,” she said, keeping her voice low, “and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t give me away.”

  “Why did he hire you?”

  “He wanted me to test the security system at the museum.” It seemed she was repeating that sentence every time she turned around, but at least Sloan had lowered her voice. When she appeared to be waiting for more, Kelsey continued. “Someone is stealing artifacts from the museum’s storage area, and with the arrival of an Egyptian death mask soon, Mr. Rutherford feared the mask might be too great a temptation for the thief to pass up. He thought someone undercover might discover his identity.”

  “That still doesn’t tell me why he hired you. You’re a conservator for a museum.”

  How was she going to explain without inviting more questions? “During my last job, I worked with a security specialist who set up the Jackson museum’s new security system, and I seem to have an aptitude for it. When I returned home, I checked out the security system at my stepfather’s business and discovered it wasn’t very secure. He told Mr. Rutherford what I’d found, and he hired me.”

  “How exactly did you hack into their system?”

  Kelsey didn’t like what she heard in Brad’s voice. Suspicion. And it looked as though she wouldn’t get out of revealing her trade secrets. “I didn’t have to. I made a few calls, asked a few questions, and got the information I needed to get into the system.” She eyed him coolly. “Needless to say, since then, the employees have been properly trained not to give out that type of information again.”

  Kelsey glanced at Brad, and he seemed to be struggling with something. Probably trying to decide whether to tell Detective Sloan he’d caught Kelsey climbing down the side of the museum.

  “Did you test the security system Saturday night?” Sloan asked.

  “Yes. After Brad left, I changed clothes and explored the area where the artifacts are stored.”

  Sloan lifted her pen from the notebook. “Why did you change clothes?”

  “Kind of hard to climb a wall in stilettos and a dress.”

  Understanding flashed across the detective’s face. “That’s right, you climbed the side of the building to get in. I understand you were there just before the body was discovered. Did you hear or see anything?”

&
nbsp; So that wasn’t what was bothering Brad. She focused on the question. “The music from the ballroom was too loud.”

  Sloan put away her pen and notebook and handed Kelsey a card. “I may check back with you after I view the murder scene, but if you think of anything you’d like to add, call me.”

  Brad stood as well. “I’m going to grab a sandwich. Can I get you one?”

  Sloan shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

  Kelsey had hoped Brad would accompany the detective. Something seemed to be eating at him, and she figured it wouldn’t be long before she discovered what as he marched back to the table after placing his order, his jaw set and shoulders square.

  “I assume my statement is finished since you don’t work in Homicide any longer,” she said.

  “Not quite. I have a few questions of my own.”

  She concentrated on her almost-empty glass of tea, trying to prepare herself for his questions.

  “Are you the Phantom Hawk?”

  For the second time today, he’d stunned her into silence. She forced the muscles in her face to relax. Widening her eyes, she said, “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play coy with me.” He held up a hand. “I caught you coming down the side of the building like it’s something you do every day, and you hack into computer systems. I—”

  “Your order is coming,” she said.

  He clamped his mouth shut until the waitress left. “I want an answer.”

  She looked past him. “You may have to wait. Detective Sloan is back, and she doesn’t look too happy.”

  The detective stopped in front of Kelsey, her hand resting on the gun at her side.

  “Ms. Allen, I’d like you to come down to the CJC and answer a few questions.”

  14

  BRAD STARED AT THE DETECTIVE. What had happened in the last ten minutes? He glanced at Kelsey. Her green eyes had darkened almost to black. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Answer questions about what?” Kelsey said.

  Rachel Sloan ignored Brad, keeping her focus on Kelsey. “Something has come to light that I’d prefer to discuss downtown.”

  Kelsey’s only reaction was a slight flinch, and then she lifted her chin. “Am I under arrest?”

  “No.” Rachel’s stance relaxed slightly, but her voice held a not yet in it.

  “Then I can drive my own car to the Criminal Justice Center? And I can leave at any time?”

  Rachel hesitated and then nodded. “Would you mind coming right now?”

  “Let me tell someone I have to go out for an hour.” She stood. “It won’t take over an hour, will it?”

  “Shouldn’t. I’ll wait and you can follow me.”

  He rose as Kelsey walked out of the coffee shop with her shoulders straight, and then he wheeled on Rachel. “What’s going on?”

  “Reggie called. An anonymous tip came in saying Kelsey Allen is the Phantom Hawk.”

  Anonymous tips usually didn’t get this type of response. Unless there was something to back them up. “Proof?”

  She nodded. “A photo that may or may not be Ms. Allen.”

  No. He clenched his jaw. If she was the cat burglar . . . just when he thought Kelsey was different, it turned out she was just like Elle, knowing all that time she hated his being a cop. Both were deceptive.

  Rachel hesitated. “You seem more than a little defensive of her. It’s my turn to ask what’s going on.”

  He skittered his gaze past her. Rachel was a lot like him, seeing most things as black or white with very little gray area. “We went to high school together, and I just don’t see her doing something like this.”

  “That was a lot of years ago,” Rachel said. “People change.”

  “But why would she? Not for the money—you know who her dad is, right?”

  “I know who her stepdad is—Sam Allen.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Look, she didn’t deny it.”

  “She was in shock.” He didn’t quite understand why he was defending Kelsey. Except he’d seen a vulnerable side to her Saturday night, one that told him she would never hurt anyone. But if she was this burglar, she’d probably conned him.

  “I’m ready,” Kelsey said from the doorway.

  Brad hadn’t heard her return. He searched her face, looking for signs of fear, and he hated to admit, guilt. He saw neither. What he saw was a spunky blonde with spiked hair ready to take on the world.

  “I told my supervisor I’d be back in an hour. I also called my stepfather. He’s meeting us downtown.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you for telling me,” Rachel said.

  Brad followed them out of the building and waited by his car while Kelsey walked past the three school buses to where her car was parked near the street. As he unlocked his car, what sounded like a handclap froze his hand on the key fob. He instantly knew the thwack wasn’t a handclap. Who’s firing a gun with a silencer?

  He pulled his automatic while scanning the parking lot for Kelsey and Rachel.

  Rachel crouched beside her car with her gun in one hand and her phone in the other. Calling for backup, he imagined. Where is Kelsey? He scanned past the yellow buses to where he’d last seen her. There she was, behind an oak tree.

  Another thwack, and bark splintered off the tree Kelsey was huddled behind. He looked to his left, the direction the bullets came from, but he couldn’t pinpoint the shooter’s location. He crept back to his car trunk to get his body armor. By the time he had it on, sirens were blaring on the next block.

  “I think he’s gone,” Rachel yelled.

  He scanned the area, seeing no evidence of anyone. Still he waited. Then tires squealed on the street behind the parking lot. He glanced at Rachel. She’d heard it as well and was talking on the phone again.

  Still holding his gun, Brad eased around the car as two patrol units barreled into the parking lot. He hurried to help Kelsey. Color had drained from her face. “You okay?” He helped her to stand.

  “No, I’m not okay—someone just tried to kill me!” Her voice quaked and she hugged her arms to her body as she scanned the area.

  Rachel ran to them. “Why would anyone shoot at you?”

  “I don’t know,” Kelsey said as security personnel came toward them. “Maybe it’s whoever killed Rutherford and he thinks I saw him Saturday night. Or saw something that might identify him.”

  He followed her gaze to the school buses, and her breath hitched.

  “What if the children had been out here?” she whispered.

  “Seems convenient that this happened just as we’re leaving for the CJC,” Rachel said. “You called your stepfather. Did you call anyone else?”

  Beside him, Kelsey stiffened. “Of course I didn’t.”

  Rachel grunted and nodded to Brad. “See to it that she gets downtown. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Wait,” Kelsey said as the detective turned to leave. “You make it sound like I’m under arrest.”

  Rachel studied her. “Well, you’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to go downtown now?”

  The detective shrugged and glanced toward the people standing in the doorway. “We’ll take your statement here with all your colleagues watching.”

  Kelsey shifted her gaze toward the employee entrance. She seemed to fold in on herself, probably because the adrenaline rush had faded. Brad itched to put his arm around her shoulders. Instead, he said, “Why don’t you ride downtown with me. I’ll bring you back here afterward.”

  She nodded her consent. “Should I say anything to the security people?”

  He looked over at Rachel, who had walked toward the employee entrance. “Let Detective Sloan handle that right now.”

  “I’d rather she didn’t tell anyone the shots were fired at me.”

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “She won’t. That’s ‘I’ll tell you when you need to know’ information, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t think they need to know.”

  His wordplay
brought a tiny smile to Kelsey’s face.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He opened the passenger door for her and waited until she fastened her seat belt before he hurried around to the driver’s side.

  She glanced at Rachel as they drove away. “Why did she imply I called someone other than my stepdad?”

  “It’s the way cops think.” Why wasn’t Kelsey asking the more obvious question—why did Rachel think she was the Phantom Hawk? “She’s fair, though, and she’s not the kind to railroad you.”

  “I’m not sure I agree. Do you think I set it up?”

  He didn’t want to believe that. “I—”

  “Never mind,” she snapped. “It’s obvious you do.”

  “Kelsey—”

  “Do you mind if we don’t talk? I’d like to get my brain settled before I’m interrogated.”

  15

  KELSEY PRACTICED YOGA BREATHING as they walked from the parking garage, past the round brick structure with “Shelby County Justice Center” on it to the tan building. Breathe in through the nose, out through the nose. Didn’t help.

  The numbing iciness around her lips stayed even as her heart concentrated on getting blood to her legs so she could walk. Kelsey paused at the entrance, and the austere CJC loomed above her. What if Sloan didn’t believe her? She squared her shoulders. She’d done nothing wrong. But what would happen if she had to tell them she was the Phantom Hawk? So far she’d danced around answering the question. Maybe it was time to tell them. And that would blow her cover.

  She jumped when Brad put his hand just above her elbow as they entered the building and he guided her past the security at the door.

  “I’m not going to run away,” she said.

  “Didn’t think you were,” he said as he showed the guard his badge. “I’ll sign us in.”

  After they signed in, she pinned her visitor badge on before they walked to the elevator. Several people crowded in with them, and Brad punched the button for the eleventh floor. Normally elevators didn’t bother her, but today her senses were on high alert. She took a step back to get away from the overpowering perfume of the woman in front of her and bumped against the wall. No more yoga breathing as her head thumped with the beginnings of a headache.