He looked to be about twenty-two, probably a student. Many of the security staff were.
‘‘It was long enough,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I’m getting all of you red shirts until you straighten yourselves out.’’ Diane started walking back toward the museum.
‘‘What did she mean?’’ she heard the younger one say.
‘‘Something from Star Trek,’’ his partner said. ‘‘I think we’re dead.’’
‘‘I’ll need to see the video,’’ Diane called back at them.
She was about to rethink the policy of hiring students. Several times in the past few months people had secreted themselves in the museum after closing.
Jin was out in the woods trying to find tire tracks to make casts. Neva had taken Andie’s purse and found two hairs snagged by the metal parts. Diane, Garnett, and David sat and watched the tape of the intruder on the security monitor. Frank stood behind them lending another set of eyes. Unfortunately there was no video of the assailant’s face. Not even a fuzzy image for David to clear up.
‘‘This was the same guy as in the hospital?’’ said
Garnett.
‘‘Yes, I’m sure of it,’’ said Diane. ‘‘And it sounded
personal. At first I thought it had something to do
with the artifacts, but now I don’t know.’’ She just
realized that she may have seen him earlier while she
was speaking with Laura and Vanessa—the fleeting
shadow she saw among the saber-toothed tiger’s flora.
She shivered.
‘‘What about the attack in your apartment? You
think it’s the same guy?’’ asked Garnett.
Diane hesitated a moment, startled at being brought
out of her thoughts. ‘‘This guy really wanted to kill
me,’’ she said. ‘‘I think if he had me as vulnerable as
I was in my apartment he would have done it. Frankly,
I don’t know what this is about. You should have
heard him as he was telling me he hated me. It was...
it was gut level. He meant it.’’
‘‘Can you think of anyone you’ve offended . . .
lately?’’ asked Garnett.
‘‘Other than Riddmann, no,’’ said Diane. Garnett grimaced. ‘‘I appreciate you apologizing to
him. I know it was tough.’’
‘‘Not very,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I had my fingers crossed.’’
She eyed the video. ‘‘Is there nothing that shows his
face? No reflective surface, nothing?’’
‘‘I haven’t seen anything,’’ said David.
‘‘It’s just not there,’’ said Frank. ‘‘He must have
known where the cameras are.’’
‘‘Is he stalking me?’’ said Diane.
‘‘He has to be,’’ Frank said. ‘‘How else would he
know you were at the hospital and how to get to
you here?’’
‘‘Well, damn,’’ said Diane. ‘‘What the hell did I do
to this guy to inspire so much hatred in him?’’ ‘‘I have no idea,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘You’re going to
have to answer that. Go home and get some rest.
Maybe something will occur to you in the morning.’’ ‘‘What about the exam room at the hospital?’’
asked Diane.
‘‘No go,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘A doctor came in and overrode your instructions. He had it cleaned up so they
could use it.’’
Diane swore.
‘‘Do we have anything?’’ she asked.
‘‘We did find black nylon fibers on your hospital
gown,’’ said David.
‘‘His ski mask,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Probably the same one
he wore tonight.’’
‘‘There were two gowns,’’ David said. ‘‘Did you
have two?’’
‘‘Yes, I was trying to correct for a flaw in the design,’’ said Diane.
She turned from the video. ‘‘I’m going to go get
some sleep. When you find the guy who attacked me,’’
she said to Garnett, ‘‘let me know so I can send him
my drycleaning bill. David, what are you doing working in the crime lab? You are supposed to be doing
your vacation work.’’
‘‘I am, but your crime scenes alone are putting a
lot of pressure on the unit. I thought I’d lend a hand,’’
he said.
‘‘Go get some rest now. I’m going to,’’ said Diane. Before Diane would leave she made sure her crime
scene crew and Andie went home—except for Jin. He
said he was staying in his lab. Jin designed the DNA
lab that Diane had installed in the basement of the
west wing. In it Jin allowed room for two small bedrooms, each with two bunk beds and bathrooms.
Everything in them was either shiny metal or tile and looked so modern it could have been a cabin on a spaceship. Diane suspected that he often spent the night there. David said he probably spent hours just standing in the middle of the lab gazing in adoration
at the equipment. Diane halfway believed him. ‘‘Did you lose a whole day of work because of me?’’
Diane asked Frank on the way to his house. ‘‘No. I got more than a day’s work done at home.
I had to go over some account books and correlate
them with dates, and the quiet of my home is more
conducive than my office to that kind of work,’’ he
said.
‘‘That’s a relief. I hate to think that it’s come to the
point that you have to babysit me,’’ said Diane. Frank took her hand. ‘‘I’m having the Mountain
Rose deliver our meal tonight. I thought while you
are a guest I’ll take advantage of it,’’ he said, kissing
the palm of her hand.
‘‘Wow. I can’t wait for dessert,’’ she said.
When Frank was in full romantic mode it was better than a vacation at the beach, or the mountains, or even caving. Certainly better than a good night’s sleep. Better than a month of good nights’ sleep. Frank had a gift for romance. So when Diane arrived at the museum the next morning, she felt in control of the day.
She parked the museum car—which she’d had museum security deliver to Frank’s house early that morning—in her usual spot and went to security first. Chanell Napier was on her two-week vacation and her second-in-command was in charge. C. W. Goodman was waiting for her.
Goodman kept his hair cropped close to his head. It was hard to tell what color it was—premature gray or blond. He was a thin, boney man who had been in security all his working life, which Diane guessed was about fifteen years.