here really quickly. I’m wondering if they weren’t somehow responsible. I mean, they’ve been hassling me every other way imaginable. Why not a rock through a window?”
“With a note saying ‘Prepare to die’?” Cara asked. “I doubt it, Annie.”
“And I seriously doubt that a Native American group, no matter how radical or fringe, would resort to this kind of petty threat,” Annie said. “The FBI can go ahead and investigate, but they’re just wasting their time.” She sat back in her chair, her normally clear blue eyes shadowed with fatigue. “I just don’t need the FBI’s garbage on top of everything else. You know, they wanted to provide me with round-the-clock protection. Surveillance is more like it. I told them I could protect myself perfectly well, thank you very much.”
“I don’t suppose you told them that the likeliest suspect is a ghost called Stands Against the Storm,” Cara said. “Maybe we should’ve called Ghostbusters instead of the police.” She sang the familiar horn riff to the original movie theme.
Annie laughed, searching for something on her desk to throw at her friend. She settled for an unsharpened pencil.
Cara dodged the pencil and grinned. “Of course, if a ghost isn’t a freaky enough suspect, there are always Navaho witches.”
Annie tiredly closed her eyes. “I see you finally read the background information I gave you.”
“‘Quantum Leap’ reruns weren’t on last night,” Cara said. “So I had some free time. Fascinating stuff. I particularly liked the part that said the Navaho believe some people—who appear to be normal during the day—are really witches. And if plain old witches who can cast spells and wreak havoc aren’t bad enough, these witches can transform themselves into giant wolves at night and roam the countryside. Very pleasant.”
“Most cultures have some version of bogeymen that stalk the night,” Annie said. “Werewolves are nothing new.”
“Yeah, but these werewolves are neighbors, relatives even,” Cara said. “And they start doing their witchy business when they get jealous of another person’s wealth or good luck or—Hey, that’s it.” Cara grinned. “Call the FBI off. I’ve figured it out. Alistair Golden is really one of these witches, and he’s cast horrible bad-luck spells on you because you’re starting to steal away some of his business. Although, actually he’d make a better weasel man than a wolf man.”
“There’s a big hole in your theory,” Annie said. “Golden’s not Navaho.”
“Good point.” Cara’s eyes narrowed, taking in the pale, almost grayish cast to her friend’s face. “The guy fixing the window won’t be done for another hour or so,” she said. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap? I can hold down the fort.”
The phone rang.
“That’s got to be my call from Dallas,” Annie said. “I called Ben Sullivan but he’s out of touch for a while. He’s on a dig in Turkey, so my contact for the death mask is the buyer, Steve Marshall.”
Cara picked up the phone. “Dr. Morrow’s office. MacLeish speaking.” She listened for a moment, her eyebrows disappearing under her bangs. “One moment, please,” she said. She covered the speaker with her hand as she gave the handset to Annie. “What, are you clairvoyant, now, too? It’s Steven Marshall. Calling from Dallas.”
Annie smiled wanly as she took the phone. “Hello?”
“Dr. Morrow,” came the thick Texas drawl. “My secretary tells me you’ve been trying to reach me?”
“Yes, Mr. Marshall,” Annie said. “Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. We’re having a little problem.”
Briefly she described both the threatening phone call and the follow-up note that had come through her window.
“I don’t think there’s any real danger,” Annie said. “But I felt I had to notify you and give you the opportunity to have the artifact authenticated by an establishment with higher security.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Marshall said, “But…you’re the best, aren’t you, darlin’?”
“Well, yes, I like to think so,” Annie said.
“I’m more concerned with your personal safety,” he said. “Are you frightened? Do you want to get out of this contract?”
“Not at all. It’s just that I may not be set up to provide security at the level necessary to protect the piece,” she explained.
“Oh, that’s just a little bitty problem,” Marshall said with the easy nonchalance of the very wealthy. “We can solve that, no sweat. I’ll provide the security, darlin’. I’ll send a man over later this afternoon. He’ll be responsible for the safety of the death mask. He’ll also act as your bodyguard.”
Oh, great, just what she needed. A pair of biceps following her around. She took a deep, calming breath. “Mr. Marshall, that’s not necessary—”
“No, no, darlin’, I insist.”
“But I’m backlogged,” Annie protested. “It’s going to be weeks before I even get a chance to look at the artifact. And the tests I need to perform will take that much time again. My contract states an estimated completion date of mid-December. That’s over two months—”
“I’ll tell the guy to be prepared to stay for a while.”
“But—”
“I gotta get back to work now,” Marshall said. “Nice talking to you, darlin’. I’ll be in touch.”
“But—”
He hung up.
“But I don’t want a bodyguard!” Annie wailed to the buzz of the disconnected line.
“A what?” Cara asked.
Annie hung up the phone with a muttered curse. “I’m going to take a nap,” she said, stalking toward the door. “Maybe when I wake up, this nightmare will be over.”
“Did you say bodyguard?” Cara’s voice trailed after her.
Annie didn’t answer.
Cara’s face broke into a wide grin. A bodyguard. For Annie. This was going to be an awful lot of fun to watch.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNIE STRETCHED, LUXURIATING, enjoying having spent the day in bed. It was a real self-indulgence, particularly since she had so much to do in the lab.
But she wouldn’t have gotten a whole heck of a lot done if she’d tried to work. Her concentration would’ve been way off because of her fatigue, and she would have ended up having to do everything over again. So instead she’d slept hard, and now felt much better. And hungry. Boy, was she hungry.
She pushed back the covers and went into her bathroom to wash her face, deciding against a shower. Why bother? Cara would be leaving for home in an hour or so. And the artifacts Annie had to run tests on didn’t care if she worked in her pajamas.
