style="font-size:15px;"> “Yes.”
“Where Vivian would have been?”
“Possibly.”
“But you didn’t see her. Who did you see?”
“Just Jensen. Jensen Morrow. He’s working here, with the exhibit. This is actually his field of work. I saw Jensen—oh, and Special Agent Fox.” She glanced back at him. He and Craig were flanked behind her like a pair of ancient Egyptian god-sentinels. They almost made her smile. Not quite. She couldn’t believe that this detective was quizzing her—when she couldn’t get any help before, no matter how she’d begged and pleaded!
“Special Agent Fox?” McGrady said.
“I arrived within minutes of Ms. Frasier. I was told she’d just headed for the temple. I wanted to speak to her about the death of Henry Tomlinson. I went straight there. We were speaking when her colleague Jensen Morrow appeared. Exactly as she indicated,” Micah Fox said.
McGrady stood up. “Fine. Ms. Frasier, you’re free to go.”
Harley stood up and glared at him. “I’m delighted to leave. But perhaps first you’d be kind enough to let me know how Vivian’s doing. We might not be close, but we were serious associates.”
McGrady sighed. “She’s holding her own. The doctors are combatting the effects of the poisoning.”
“What was the poison?”
“It’s an ongoing investigation. That’s information we can’t give out right now, even if we had it.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Craig opened the door; she marched out. He and Micah followed. She thought she heard McGrady mutter, “And take your Feds with you.”
“Not the usual helpful attitude, at least not in my association with the NYPD,” Craig said. “Usually, we have an excellent working rapport.”
“Maybe he’s resentful because he’s not sure what this is yet. It’s impossible at this time to say what happened,” Micah said.
Harley spun around to stare at him. “What are you, a fool?” she snapped. “We both know—not suspect, but know—that Henry Tomlinson was murdered. Then Vivian Richter comes out wrapped in mummy linens, screaming and poisoned with some kind of skin toxin, and we don’t know what happened? Obviously, someone tried to kill her!”
Craig grabbed her by the shoulders. “Harley! Stop. Micah’s on your side. What are you?” he asked. “A fool?”
She flushed uneasily. They were just outside the door. The nicer cop, the quiet one with the baby face, Rydell, came out and approached Jensen Morrow. He was next on the block, Harley thought. And how stupid of the cops. Jensen had been with her, away from the camp, when Henry Tomlinson was killed. They just didn’t seem bright enough to realize that there was a far bigger picture here. They needed to see it—before someone else died.
But Craig was right. She shouldn’t be taking it out on Micah Fox.
Why was she being so hostile, so defensive?
Pushing him away on purpose.
He was trying to help her. He was...
He was a promise she was afraid to accept. He claimed he wanted the truth, and he seemed to have all the assets needed to get at that truth. He was too damned good to be true, and she didn’t dare depend on someone like that when the very concept of an ally, someone to depend on, was still so...
Foreign to her! He was law enforcement—and on her side. It was good. After all this time, it felt rather amazing.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
She’d barely spoken when Kieran Finnegan came hurrying up next to her. “I have a car outside. Come on, I’ll get you home.”
“But—”
“There’s nothing else you can do here tonight, Harley,” Micah said.
“Remember, you came to me.”
“Yes. And there’s nothing else you can do here tonight,” he repeated.
Harley stiffened.
“Let’s go,” Kieran said gently.
So she nodded. “Thank you,” she said to Craig and Micah, and then she allowed Kieran to lead her out the door, to the front of the museum.
A light-colored sedan was waiting, just as Kieran had promised. Kieran wasn’t driving; Harley assumed the driver was FBI and that Micah or Craig had made the arrangements.
Once in the car beside Kieran, Harley regretted the fact that she’d already left. “I should still be there. I should be back with the exhibits. I should see the prep rooms. I was with them on that expedition and I know what we discovered. I saw the tomb when it was opened. And I... Lord, yes, I’m the one who found Henry.”
“Logically, there isn’t a damned thing you could’ve done tonight. They won’t let anyone back by the exhibits, the prep rooms, the offices—anywhere!—until the crime scene people have gone through it all. Naturally, everyone’s hoping that Vivian Richter pulls through. If she does, maybe she’ll be able to remember something that will help. For now, well...”
“McGrady is NYPD. He isn’t letting Craig and that Agent Fox in on anything.”
“They’ll get in on it. Trust me. Craig will talk to his director. His director will call the chief of police or the mayor or someone, but they’ll get in on it,” Kieran said with assurance.
Harley leaned back for a moment, suddenly very tired. She closed her eyes and then opened them again, looking over at Kieran. She liked her cousin’s girlfriend. Really liked her. She wasn’t sure why they weren’t engaged or married yet, but...
Kieran, of course, knew all about what had gone on during and after the expedition out to the Sahara in the search for Amenmose’s tomb. Considering what she did for a living—a psychologist who worked with law enforcement—nothing much surprised her or rattled her. Besides, she’d met Craig during a period when the city was under siege with a spate of diamond heists.
“So tell me—what’s your take on this?” Harley asked Kieran. “Who would kill Henry Tomlinson? Or rather, who’d dress up as a mummy to kill him, and then dress Vivian Richter like a mummy to try and kill her?”
“The incidents might not be related,” Kieran said.
“Oh, please! Don’t tell me Henry wasn’t murdered! Don’t tell me I want that to be the case because I don’t want to believe he went crazy and committed suicide.”
“I’m not saying that at all. Here’s the thing. You were in the desert, so it had to be someone there. Henry’s dead and maybe this would-be killer is playing on that. Or maybe the two are related. The problem is, I don’t know anyone involved. It’s hard enough to make judgment calls when you’ve had a chance to speak with people and question them.”
“Yeah,
