Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(79)
Louisa tipped her head and spoke in a raspy voice. “I agree one hundred percent.” Which sounded much better than what she was actually thinking: I couldn’t care less about the exhibit.
“We’ll be issuing a press release shortly, announcing that we’ll be moving the date in respect of the victims and their families.” Cusack’s voice faded in her ears. Something shone in his eyes. Excitement? Frustration? Louisa’s stomach pitched. Was he enthused about the prospect of more media attention, or could there be a more sinister reason behind the gleam in his eye? Or was he just frustrated and angry like the rest of the museum employees? She’d assumed Cusack hadn’t been actively involved with the interns, but perhaps her judgment had been hasty. Cusack wasn’t married. What if that cold, Teflon-like exterior was merely a cover for a sinister soul? Cusack had short, dark hair. He had access to the girls’ personnel and student records, and he was brilliant enough to pull off an intricate crime. He knew about the incident in Maine and the relationship between Conor and Louisa, something he’d deliberately kept from her.
“Lastly, we’re changing custodial services based on some nighttime thefts.” He raised a hand to halt the murmurs. “Nothing of great value to the museum is missing, but between the theft of the dagger replica and the small personal items that have disappeared in the last few weeks, the change makes sense. Your office door locks will be changed. I’ll let you know when new keys will be issued. Until then, I advise not leaving anything valuable in your offices. Any questions?”
Chairs scraped as people sensed the end and started to move.
“Then that’s all for now,” Cusack said in dismissal.
“One more thing.” Ignoring the director’s sharp glance, Louisa raised her voice. “Everyone needs to be careful. Please stick together. Don’t go anywhere alone, especially at night.”
“Yes,” Cusack interrupted. “Dr. Hancock makes excellent points. Although I’m sure the police will solve these crimes quickly, the museum has already temporarily increased security. No one will be admitted without an employee badge. Don’t be alarmed if you see additional guards patrolling the building. All employees, especially females, should ask for an escort to your car if leaving after dark and parked across the street. If you’re using public transportation, try to coordinate your commutes. Please don’t take your safety for granted. You need to be just as careful when you aren’t here. The police don’t suspect any of the girls were taken from museum grounds.”
He dismissed them with an authoritative nod.
Cusack approached, the momentary glimmer in his eye replaced with an appropriate level of solemnity. “Dr. Hancock, I hope you weren’t blindsided by the announcement.”
“Not at all. I’m relieved, in fact.” Louisa held her coffee in front of her body as a personal boundary marker. “The staff should be focused on helping the police and keeping each other safe.”
“I concur,” he said, but his stern, tight mouth said he wasn’t happy with her. “I’ll meet with the board and finalize a new date for the opening.”
“Thank you.” Louisa waited until everyone else had left the room. “Why are employees being asked to show a second piece of identification?”
Cusack stepped closer and lowered his head. “According to security records, an employee on maternity leave used her ID several times over the last few weeks. When we called her at home, she denied coming to the museum and couldn’t find her ID.”
“So someone was using her card to gain access to the museum?”
“That’s what the police think.” Cusack’s face pinched with displeasure. What were ordinarily small lapses in security were magnified in light of the three girls’ disappearances. “And Dr. Hancock?”
“Yes.”
“No more working late at night,” Dr. Cusack said, his eyes flat. “I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”
Louisa took an instinctive step back at his tone. Had that been concern or a veiled threat? With an agreeable nod, she bolted for her office. Along with the weird encounter with Cusack, the morning’s interview with the detectives lingered in her mind like the taste of burnt garlic. Who might know what was going on with the case? Damian. She’d called him earlier, but he hadn’t called back with any news.
She picked up the phone and dialed Damian’s number. “Are you free for lunch?”
Over the connection, she could hear papers shuffling. “I can shift some things around. Is it important?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m all yours,” Damian said. “How about a picnic at Logan Square? I’ll bring the food.”
Louisa hesitated. Damian favored sandwiches from the grease trucks that parked in University City, but she doubted she’d have much of an appetite. Plus, outside in the middle of the square with its geyser of a fountain, it was unlikely that anyone would overhear their conversation. “That’s great. Noon?”
“You’re on.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Let me pick you up,” Damian objected. “I don’t think anyone associated with the museum should be walking around alone.”
She hung up the phone with Damian’s warning echoing in her office. The director had sent around a press release, and using her smartphone, she busied herself sending out e-mails addressing the postponement of the exhibit opening.