Shadows In The Night

It took a moment for everyone to stop talking and start listening. Someone tapped a champagne flute with a fork or spoon. Then the room fell silent.

“We welcome you to our amazing new exhibit, brought to us through the genius of the man—the brilliant, kind, ever-giving man—whose name will now grace our museum walls, Dr. Henry Tomlinson. Those who knew Henry loved him. He was a scholar, but he was also a very human man who loved his family and friends. No one knew Egyptology the way Henry did...”

A sudden gasp from the crowd silenced him. Everyone turned.

Someone had come up from the basement steps, and was now staggering through the crowd.

Someone grotesquely dressed up in a mummy’s linen bindings, staggering out as if acting in a very bad mummy movie.

A performance for the evening?

No.

Because Arlo grunted an angry “Excuse me!” and exited the dais, walking toward the “mummy” now careening toward him.

“What the hell?” Micah and Craig were close enough to hear Arlo’s words. “Richter, is that you? You idiot! Is that you?”

It wasn’t Richter; Micah knew that right away. Richter was far too big a man to be the slight, lean person now dressed up.

Or at least Ned Richter was!

Micah burst forward, phone out and in his hand. As he neared the mummy, he was already dialing 9-1-1.

“Get those bindings off her! Get them off her fast!” he commanded.

The mummy collapsed.

Micah barely managed to catch the wrapped body sagging to the floor.

As quickly as he could, he began to remove the wrappings.

He heard the sound of a siren.

Then Vivian Richter looked up at him, shuddered and closed her eyes.

The wrappings, Micah knew, had been doused in some kind of poison.

Chapter Two (#u897dea75-6954-58de-9bfb-b5fbc838cea1)

Chaos reigned.

Harley was stunned and horrified that Vivian Richter was so badly hurt—so close to death.

She was wrapped tightly. The outer wrappings were decayed and falling apart; they’d come from a historic mummy. The inner wrappings were contemporary linen, the kind the museum used in its demonstrations, made to look like the real deal.

Vivian was gasping and crying, completely incoherent. One woman in the room was a doctor—a podiatrist, but hey, she’d been to medical school. She was kneeling by Vivian, calling the shots, talking on the phone to the med techs who were on their way.

Special Agent Fox had already taken control of the room. No one was to leave; they were all in a lockdown.

She was incredibly glad that Craig was there. And, of course, he was with his girlfriend or fiancée—Harley wasn’t sure what Craig and Kieran called each other, but she was sure they were together for life. Kieran was standing near Harley, ready to comfort her, as the slightly older and very protective almost cousin-in-law. Harley appreciated that, even though she didn’t really need it. She worked with criminals all the time, as well as people who weren’t so bad but still wound up in the criminal justice system. She was calm and stoic; Micah and Craig were questioning people, grouping them, speaking to them, both digging for answers and assuring them all that they were safe.

“She’s going to die! She’s going to die!” Simone Bixby, Henry Tomlinson’s niece, cried out. Harley saw that Micah Fox hurried over to her, placed a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her to a chair.

By then, of course, museum security had arrived. So had the police—New York City and state police.

People were talking everywhere. Micah and Craig had herded everyone into groups, depending on their relationship to the museum. Some were employees of the museum; some were special guests. The people who’d been on the expedition were in a corner. Harley was with Belinda Gray, Joe Rosello, Roger Eastman and Jensen Morrow, as well as the Alchemy Egyptologist, Arlo Hampton.

Ned Richter was crouched on the floor, at his wife’s side.

All of this seemed to go on for a long time, yet it was a matter of minutes before more sirens screamed in the night and the EMTs were rushing in. Ned Richter was allowed to go with his wife; Arlo Hampton and others more closely associated with the exhibit were now gathered together in a new group. Guests who’d only recently made it through the doors were questioned and cleared.

Anyone who had anything to do with prep for the evening was in another group; every single person would be questioned before being permitted to leave for the night.

Officers and crime scene techs were crowding through the museum, heading to the Amenmose section—and to the staff office and prep chambers beyond.

“Too bad we couldn’t continue the celebration,” Joe said, hands locked behind his back, a look of disappointment on his face. “What a waste of great food and wine.”

“Joe! What’s the matter with you?” Belinda chastised.

“Come on! Vivian Richter’s a drama queen,” Joe said.

“She might die,” Roger said very softly.

“You mark my words. She will not die,” Joe insisted.

“They’re saying it’s poison,” Roger pointed out. “Some kind of poison on the wrappings.”

“She’s going to be very, very sick,” Jensen said. “Those wrappings decaying and falling all around her... Who the hell knows where they came from—or what might be on them?”

“Or if something was put on them,” Roger said. “That’s how she would have been poisoned.”

They were all silent for a minute.

“And then dead—like Henry Tomlinson,” Belinda said.

Again, they were silent.

“Great. But at least now, maybe someone besides me will start fighting to figure out what happened to Henry,” Harley said quietly.

She’d actually discovered that night that someone was on her side. The agent with the great voice. Craig’s friend. Micah Fox.

“Okay, okay,” Belinda said. “I didn’t push it a lot at the time. I mean, it didn’t make any difference, did it? The cause of death—two medical examiners said—was the fact that bacteria made him crazy and he killed himself.”

The reaction to her comment was yet another bout of silence.

“What were we going to do?” Belinda wailed. “We had no power. Insurgents were bearing down on the camp, and everyone wanted us out! So, what could we do? Henry was dead,” Belinda said.

“And back then, none of us believed he killed himself,” Jensen said at last.