Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(5)
“Do you suspect the victim is our intern?” Louisa pressed.
But Jackson’s eyes gave away nothing but irritation.
“Do you have photos of the dagger replica?” he asked, ignoring her question and leaving her to assume the worst.
“Yes, I have pictures.”
The detective gave her a pointed look. “We don’t give the press all the details of the case. We would appreciate you keeping our discussion in confidence.”
“Of course.” Louisa crossed her arms.
Next to her, a grim-faced Cusack nodded.
Jackson handed them each a business card. “Please call us if you remember anything or if you notice anything unusual.”
The police took drawings, measurements, and photos of the dagger reproduction so the medical examiner could determine if the museum replica was the likely murder weapon. As soon as the detectives finished with her, Louisa retreated to her tiny office and sank into her chair.
Dear God, not again.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. For the second time, items stolen from her museum had been used by a killer. Six months ago in Maine, a madman had used stolen museum pieces in bizarre Celtic rituals that killed several people. Now it was happening again.
Conor Sullivan had pulled her into the investigation. He’d connected the missing artifacts to an elaborate mass murder attempt, and she’d gone with him to help solve the case. Conor, and her reaction to him, had been nearly as disconcerting as being swept up in a violent murder case.
She opened her bottom desk drawer, pulled a folder out, and set it on the desk. Opening the cover, she spread newspaper articles across the blotter. The last story wrapped around a black-and-white photo of Conor escorting her to her car after the police had finished with her interview. She was barely visible in the picture. The angle of his big body blocked most of hers from media intrusion. Looking at it now, she could almost feel his protective stance, his powerful body touching hers. Her toes curled at the memory.
From the moment they met, he threw her off-kilter. She’d just lost her job. In the two days they’d worked together, his fear for his brother, the horror of being involved in a murder case, and her inexplicable response to him compounded into complete confusion in her already-turbulent life.
He wasn’t the sort of man she dated: cool, polite professionals with backgrounds and interests similar to hers. No, there was nothing cool about Conor. She hadn’t wanted to be attracted to him, but just looking at the picture now sent heat swirling low in her belly. She took off her glasses and slid the picture a few inches farther away on the blotter, as if distance between her and the photo created a like chasm in her emotions.
It didn’t.
But all that was behind her. Six months ago had been a difficult period in her life. Now that she was settled again, she’d have better control.
That would be easier to believe if Conor didn’t live in Philadelphia.
And if she didn’t keep his picture in her desk.
The door opened, and she jerked upright.
“Relax.” April closed the door behind her. She carried a brown paper bag in one hand and two large coffees in a cardboard tray in the other. “You haven’t eaten all day. We’re having a dinner break. No shop talk.”
“Thanks.” Louisa glanced down at the newspaper articles. Shoving them hastily into her desk would be obvious. She forced her hands to move slowly gathering up the papers. “You’re the best.”
April set her bounty on the desk. Louisa took the coffee with an L written in black marker on the side.
“I know.” April fished two wrapped deli sandwiches from the bag. “Turkey or tuna?”
Louisa sipped the coffee and selected the turkey club. She took a tentative bite, and her stomach begged for more. “This is great.”
“There are cupcakes for later.” April produced a small white bakery box. “Cupcakes make everything better.”
“No argument from me.” Louisa took another bite of her sandwich. The deli had been generous with the bacon. Her taste buds applauded.
April spied the photo before Louisa could push it into the folder.
“Honey, you don’t have to hide that. Everyone in the museum knows what happened at your last job. Those articles were passed around the break room. In fact, it’s one of the reasons Cusack hired you.” April dropped into one of the two leather club chairs facing the desk.
“I don’t understand.”
“I sort of overheard Cusack telling one of the board members that it’d be an opportunity to get a top-notch curator at a bargain-basement price. He also said that you were replaced with someone far less qualified. The Maine museum probably needed to cut its budget.”
Louisa’s heart dropped. But then his decision made sense. Museums, especially smaller ones, operated on very limited funding, and the recent economic downturn had affected donations and grants. Who would ever have thought the situation that brought her to Philadelphia could happen twice?
“I’m pretty sure your father’s reputation helped too.”
Her assistant’s answer was yet another blow. Louisa hadn’t even gotten this entry-level position on her own merit. Currently living in Stockholm, her father was a renowned expert in Viking burials, and she was inadvertently borrowing his academic success. The events in Maine, and now here in Philadelphia, were out of her control, yet her career was in jeopardy. She suppressed the surge of self-pity. How could she feel sorry for herself when a woman had been violently murdered?