Dead Secret (27 page)

That was possible, she thought. Sometimes it was like falling dominoes when they got a critical mass of evidence—just one more piece could make them start falling, and suddenly a case was solved.

Maybe that critical evidence would be the DNA. Diane realized that she was counting on their getting DNA that she had tricked her captors into giving her. There was a good chance that the spittle didn’t contain any, or there wasn’t enough.

She sent the staff away to make plans. Now came the task that she dreaded most—calling her parents and telling them that
she
was the reason for her mother’s nightmare.

Diane called Daniel Reynolds first. She told him part of the story—leaving out the danger to the museum. The fewer people who knew about that the better.

“I need you to contact the federal marshals’ office, the FBI, and the Bureau of Prison authorities; alert them that the danger might not be over, that someone still may hack into their systems to hurt a member of my family.”

“That must be some kind of case you’re working on, to worry someone this much,” he said.

“That’s just it—the events that started this whole thing happened in 1942. Most of the people involved would be very old or dead.”

“Their descendants wouldn’t.”

Diane was silent for a moment. Of course, she thought, people didn’t live out their lives in a vacuum. They had children and grandchildren. And great-grandchildren, just like Jane Doe-Flora Martin had a great-grandchild. People built lives, reputations and fortunes, and their descendants often depended on those reputations and fortunes. Reynolds’s remark put her mind on had a new line of inquiry, a new way to look at the problem.

“From the silence, I must have gotten you thinking,” said the lawyer.

“You did, indeed. And it seems so obvious.”

“I’ll get on this right away. I suppose you’ll be calling your folks.”

“Yes. After I hang up with you.”

“Then I won’t keep you. Don’t worry about this end. I’ll see that the right people get on this.”

She called Gerald first. She caught him at his office and told him essentially what she had told Daniel Reynolds.

“I just wanted you to know, because they are going to be needing support, and they won’t want it from me.”

“God, Diane. I’m not sure I understand this. This sounds more like the Russian mob or something.”

“It is extreme, I agree. Are you and Susan doing okay?”

“We’re still living under the same roof and being civil to each other, so I guess we’re doing fine. Alan took some vacation time, I understand. Apparently, it was a blow to him for you to think he’d stab you.”

“That, and being wrong. He always had a hard time with that.”

“Your dad’s been at home all week with your mother, so they should be together. You want me to call Susan and give her a heads-up?”

“Yes, thanks. She might want to go on over there.”

When Diane hung up, she waited with her hand on the phone, dreading what was coming. A knot formed in her stomach, making her nauseated. She thought about calling Gerald back and asking him to tell them. But instead, she dialed her parents’ number.

Chapter 38

Diane sat alone at her desk, her head down on her arms, sobbing.

“Diane?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Mike’s voice. She didn’t remember him ever using her first name. Surprised and embarrassed, she lifted her head. She was still holding the telephone receiver tight in her hand. She put it back in its cradle.

“Mike. Sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”

Diane grabbed a Kleenex and wiped her eyes. Mike stood in front of her desk, a deep crease between his brows, his light brown eyes filled with puzzled concern.

At least he can see me off my pedestal,
she thought as she blotted her eyes again.

“Can I help? Is it Frank?”

Diane tried to smile as she met his gaze. “No. It’s my parents. I had to tell them that what happened to Mother was my fault.”

“How was it your fault?”

“Did Neva tell you about any of this?”

“A little. Something about identity theft and someone’s hacking into police records causing her to be put in prison for a week.”

“It was really much worse for her than that. It was done to get me out of town, away from the crime scene evidence. Mike, I shouldn’t be telling you this. I’m sorry. Did you need something?”

He shook his head and sat down in the stuffed chair across from her desk. “No. I just dropped by. Andie wasn’t at her desk, so I just came in—I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“It’s all right, really. You look better. How is your recovery?”

“Better. The doctor put me on an exercise program that Neva and I can both live with,” he said flashing a brief smile.

“She’s just looking out for you.”

“I know, and she’s doing a good job of it. I’m a lousy patient. My mother used to say that when I was sick as a kid, she got me well in self-defense.”

“It sounds like you have nice, caring parents.”

“They are. They live way out in the country on a farm. Dad grows grapes, muscadines and scuppernongs. Dad’s always been a farmer. Mother’s always been a housewife. They’re just plain folk.”

Mike’s small talk sounded awkward, not like his usual confident, glib self. She’d made him uncomfortable. Tears leaked from her eyes again. She imagined his parents loved their son very much. She envied him.

“What happened couldn’t have been your fault,” he said.

“Look at everything, Mike—my daughter is murdered, Frank is shot, you are shot
and
stabbed, my poor, naive mother is thrown in a hellhole of a prison.”
And now the museum,
she thought. “The common denominator is me. Hell, the break-in at Neva’s probably has something to do with me.”

“No. None of it.” He leaned forward. “I certainly don’t hold you responsible, and if I remember right, what happened to Frank wasn’t because of you at all; it was to stop
him
and
his
investigation.”

Mike reached out and took her hand. His touch was warm and safe-feeling, and right now human contact felt good. She squeezed back. After a moment, Diane slipped her hand from his.

“My mother told me she hates me for what I did—for what I am.”

Diane didn’t mean to blurt it out that way. After complaining about information leaks, she was becoming a faucet.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

In his world he probably couldn’t imagine a parent hating her child. But her mother had suffered horribly, and Diane could see her mother’s point of view. If she had been the daughter they wanted, if she weren’t involved in solving crimes, all that happened wouldn’t have happened. And in that, her mother was right. The small headway she had made with her family was now irreparably damaged. Even Susan was angry with her again. She had been with her parents when Diane called and she couldn’t resist weighing in with her opinion of Diane’s guilt.

“Diane—” he whispered.

“I’m fine.” She cut him off, stopped him from saying anything further.

Frank was right; she could see it in Mike’s eyes. He cared very much for her. Diane had no doubt he cared for Neva, too. But right now Diane was vulnerable, and she could see that Mike was ready to step in and try to fix whatever was wrong. She stood up.

“There are some things I need to do.”

“Sure. Let me know if I can help.”

“I will. I’m going to be closing the museum . . . only for a few days, I hope.”

Mike looked startled. She started to give him the reason that she and Kendel had come up with, but she found she couldn’t lie to him.

“I can’t tell you why. And if you will, please don’t mention it to anyone. I’m going to tell the staff.”

“No, of course not. Neva asked me if I ever mention to anyone what goes on in the crime lab. I don’t know much, but I never talk about what little I do know.”

“I didn’t think you did. We may have a leak, and I had to ask everyone. I’m asking Frank, too. I’m also looking at myself. The wrong people may have overheard me talking.”

“Is everything all right here?”

“No, Mike, it’s not. But I intend to make it right.”

“I want to help you.”

“I know you do. But now, though, I must ask you to work at home, since I’m closing the museum for the weekend.”

Mike started to leave. He didn’t want to; she could see him hesitate, search for something else to say, make some other offer of help. Finally, he turned and walked out.

She called David and asked him to meet her at the feeding dock on the swan lake—the large pond with a family of swans that was the centerpiece of the nature trail.

The nature trail was a half-mile loop in the midst of a wooded garden in back of the museum. It was part of the museum’s exhibits, only outside, growing, and ever changing with each season. It was filled with trilliums, bluet, violets, azaleas, rhododendrons, berries, trees, shrubs, birds, butterflies and more plants than she could remember, and it was always beautiful. She didn’t want to imagine it filled with smoke. Damn whoever was behind this.

She stood on the feeding platform and threw the arriving swans bread crumbs she had picked up in the restaurant. She heard footfalls come onto the bridge and looked up to see David approaching. She left the swans and walked with him deeper into the trail.

“Why do I feel like I’m in a James Bond movie?” he said, and sneezed.

“Because I’ve gone completely paranoid. I don’t want to be overheard. David, how do you feel about sleep?”

“I don’t need that much. What do you want me to do?” He sneezed again. “Next time we do cloak-and-dagger, can we meet at McDonald’s or someplace like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you’re allergic.” Diane told him of her suspicions and outlined the plan that had been working in her mind. “I think Lane Emery is involved in some way. I’m going to ask Garnett to help search the museum tonight and try to catch Emery or the kidnappers in the act tomorrow. Can you stay at the museum a few days?”

“I can do that. Why do you think it’s Emery?” said David.

“A hunch really. First of all, there had to be a third person involved in kidnapping me. Going to the elevators, I saw Emery when I left the osteology lab. He could have signaled my kidnappers that I was coming.” Diane looked over at David watching the swans. She couldn’t tell from his face what he was thinking.

“Do you have any more than that?” he asked, not taking his eyes off a particularly feisty swan.

“I was speaking with Kendal, Andie, Chanell and Emery earlier—asking their advice. . . .” Diane hesitated for a moment. The reasons for her suspicions did sound weak. “He’s the one who suggested we close down for the weekend. There was just something in the way he said it. . . . I don’t know.” Diane was beginning to feel silly.

“If there’s a bomb threat, it makes sense to close down.”

“There’s not a bomb threat. The guys who kidnapped me said they would burn the museum down. It was Emery who suggested bombs. He said that was about the only way to effectively burn the building.”

“He has a point,” said David.

“Yes, he does. I said all I really had was a hunch. But it occurred to me that the kidnappers had no real expectation that I would just hand over evidence—they didn’t even ask for all the evidence. However, if they made a threat like the one they made, there was a very real expectation that I would close the museum for a couple of days. That way they could just take what they needed without a problem—especially if they had the head of security on their side.”

“Okay, I’m starting to buy into it,” said David. “But what if you are wrong about him?”

“Then I will apologize profusely and we’ll have at least searched the museum for incendiary devices.”

David laughed. “I’ll talk to Garnett and take care of the details,” he said.

“Thanks. I need to tell Vanessa Van Ross what’s up.”

David raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

“I always keep her apprised of anything that affects the museum. People think that I don’t answer to anyone, but I do answer to her.”

Diane walked with David back to the museum. He sneezed all the way. Diane felt as though a weight had been lifted from her just to be able to express her suspicions.

Diane drove to Vanessa Van Ross’s home. Vanessa lived in the oldest section of Rosewood, where many of the trees were even older than her 114-year-old grandmother had been. Her huge house was at the end of a long, tree-lined, winding drive.

Diane pushed the doorbell and waited. The house was so well insulated she didn’t hear footfalls until the door was opened by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hartefeld, a fixture who had been with Vanessa for years. She was a tall, straight-backed woman in a dark gray pantsuit that matched her hair and eyes. Diane always thought she looked out of place in modern apparel—she should be wearing Victorian clothes to match her physical appearance. Despite her dour face, Mrs. Hartefeld was a friendly, happy person with a good sense of humor. She led Diane into the parlor, a white and gold French Provençal room that made her feel like she was waiting for the queen. Perhaps she was.

“Dr. Fallon, I wanted to thank you for giving my grand-daughters a personal tour of the museum. They felt so special. They are still talking about it.”

“I was happy to do it. I’m glad they enjoyed themselves.”

“I’ll get Mrs. Van Ross. She’ll be delighted to see you. May I get you something to drink—coffee, tea, soda?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Hartefeld.”

Diane stood by the fireplace looking up at a portrait of Milo Lorenzo staring down at her. His hand was on a Greek Ionic column pedestal. She sensed his disapproval and she felt guilty.

“Diane, dear. What a surprise,” Vanessa Van Ross said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I’m afraid my phones might be tapped.”

Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “Sit down and tell me about it.”

Diane sat on a white silk chair, hoping that the seat of her pants wasn’t soiled from the basement. She told Vanessa about the kidnapping, the threats, what happened to her mother, and how the two thugs claimed responsibility—including what they wanted. She thought Vanessa would give her the now-familiar openmouthed stare of surprise, then chastise her for letting things get so out of control.

Vanessa did neither. She sat very still in her white and gold French sitting room, looking at the portrait of Milo.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

Diane outlined her suspicions of Emery and her plan. Vanessa looked thoughtful as she spoke. When she finished, Diane blurted out, “If you want me to resign, I will . . . or I’ll resign from the crime lab.” She suddenly felt like a child in the principal’s office.

“Don’t be silly, girl.” Vanessa did look cross now. She glanced up at Milo again. “We can’t have people making threats and controlling what we do, and we certainly can’t have them threatening the museum. Milo would have hated that. They must be found, rooted out and taken to task. They can’t be allowed to get away with it.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to see that they are arrested.”

“What both Milo and I liked about you is that we sensed that you would care for the museum more than for your career. We were right. That’s what we want for the museum—someone who sees it as their job to take care of it, not just themselves.”

Diane was relieved. “Right now, I feel like I’ve put it in danger.”

“No. It’s being held hostage.”

“The board is going to be very angry—about the closing in particular,” said Diane.

Vanessa smiled thinly. “Probably so. You will just have to handle that.”

Diane didn’t look forward to it. “I must ask you not to tell anyone about this until it’s over.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t quite know how to say this.”

“Say what, my dear?”

“The indications are that something very large is at stake here. Perhaps a great deal of wealth or power. Maybe an organization or a family. Someone had to pay these guys to do what they did. They hurt my family just so I’d leave town and they could steal the bones before I got a chance to identify them. Then they kidnapped me when that didn’t work.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I don’t yet know who may be involved. I can’t anticipate the direction the investigation may take. There are not that many rich and powerful people in the area whom you don’t know.”