If someone is listening to this, shit, it means the fucker finally caught up to me. Just so we’re clear, I’m not paranoid. I am being stalked. But there’s too much at stake to tuck tail and run. No way in hell I’m going to let that pretty boy bastard take what’s mine. If he wants the treasure, he’s going to have to—
The recording abruptly ended.
Caedmon stared at the digital recorder as he thoughtfully tapped his index finger against his chin. “Lovett knew the enfant terrible was watching his every move.”
“This Rico Suave guy was probably hoping that Lovett would lead him right to the fortune. Although why kill the gilded archaeologist before he finds the fabled treasure?”
“I don’t know. But I would be interested to examine this boulder with the Templar cross pattée carved onto it.” Pulling the computer onto his lap, Caedmon quickly accessed an online travel agency.
“You’re going to Rhode Island, aren’t you?”
“Ah! The Hope Valley Inn is located just a few miles from Arcadia.” He glanced up from the computer. “And, yes, I am going to Rhode Island. Lovett presents a compelling case for the outlawed Templars taking their treasure to Rhode Island. The Ark of the Covenant may well have been part of the treasure trove.”
“Hel-lo! Did you even listen to the recording?” Exasperated, Edie answered her own question. “No, you did not. Because if you had listened, you’d know that Lovett used the Ark to lure you into the showroom. He didn’t provide one scrap of evidence to prove the Ark is part of this fabled—”
“Even if the Ark isn’t included in the treasure hoard,” Caedmon interjected, “I can’t ignore the fact that the Knights Templar may have established a secret colony in the New World. That alone warrants further investigation.”
Folding her arms across her chest, Edie carefully considered her next move. Not only did Caedmon have an obsessive interest in the Knights Templar, he also had a chip on his shoulder, courtesy of the history department at Queen’s College. Although he rarely spoke of the long-ago incident, he resented the dons at Oxford who’d trashed his unorthodox dissertation, bitter waters running very deep. So, no surprise that he wanted to uncover a new twist on the Templar tale. If he succeeded, it’d be the ultimate “Up yours!” And, as his paid research assistant, she did have a vested interest. Particularly since her other career prospects weren’t exactly paying the bills.
Edie glanced at the matted and framed photographs of Ethiopian women that she’d placed around the room. Some were candid shots, others were posed. All were photographs of women. No doubt, her degree in women’s studies had something to do with the content. The collection was her first foray into the realm of social documentary photography. She’d shown the photos to a couple of local dealers, managing to snag a weeklong show at a Dupont gallery that specialized in African art. Several of her photos had also been purchased by the Ethiopian embassy and would be displayed in their main reception hall. It was a small start. A baby step, really.
“I agree that the lost Templar colony will make an exciting chapter in your next book.” Caedmon would get no disagreement from her on that score. “But Jason Lovett was killed today because of something he found in Rhode Island. We have no idea what we’re going up against. And, according to the now dead Jason Lovett, the Catholic Church mounted a sneak attack on the Templars’ New World colony, slaughtering the inhabitants outright. We are treading on very dangerous ground.”
“First of all, the slaughter occurred nearly five hundred years ago. The church has long since abandoned its search for hidden Templar treasures. As for Jason Lovett’s tragic murder, we have nothing to fear; the killer doesn’t know that we’re privy to the digital recording.” Caedmon’s clipped tone made him sound like the calm voice of British reason.
Edie took a moment to digest the rebuttal; he’d punched big holes in her case. Persuasive as always.
“The phrase aqua sanctus might possibly lead to Dr. Lovett’s hidden research notes,” Caedmon continued. “I won’t know until I get there.”
“You’re gonna need a research assistant. I’ll go upstairs and pack a bag,” she announced, her mind made up.
“After what happened today at the House of the Temple, I’m concerned that—”
“Don’t say it.” She threw up a hand, forestalling his objection. “I know that you’re concerned for my safety, but as you just pointed out, Jason Lovett’s killer doesn’t know that we have the recording. Besides, you pay me to do a job — although I prefer to think of myself as your partner in crime and not just a business deduction on your taxes.”
Caedmon smiled at the jest. “In that case, be sure to include a pair of sturdy boots.”
“And I’ll toss in a bottle of sunscreen and a — Whoa!” she exclaimed in midstream, startled when all of the lights in the house suddenly went off. “I think we just blew a circuit.”
“On the floor! Now!”
“What!?”
CHAPTER 18
Edie heard rather than saw Caedmon dive off the couch in her direction. An instant later, his chest plowed into her shoulder, shoving her to the floor. Stunned, she opened her mouth, sucking in a gasp of air.
“Wh-what’s going on?” Then, a split second later, the realization dawned: “Oh God… it’s him, isn’t it?” Him being Jason’s Lovett’s killer.
Caedmon pressed his mouth to her ear. “Where’s your mobile phone?”
“Um… kitchen… charger… on the counter,” she rasped, unable to speak in full sentences.
“Right.”
Crouching over top of her, Caedmon grabbed her by the hand and pulled her off the floor, dragging her to the staircase in the foyer.
“Now what?”
“I want you to go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. Do not, under any circumstances, come back downstairs.”
Shock having mushroomed into full-blown terror, Edie obeyed, taking the steps two at a time. Stumbling near the top, she made a wild grab for the banister. But not before painfully banging a knee against one of the stair treads. Her kneecap throbbing with pain, she hobbled down the hall.
Moments later, door securely locked behind her, she scanned the porcelain-and-tile confines of the bathroom.
She needed a weapon!
Lurching toward the cabinet above the sink, she yanked it open and took a quick inventory: medicine bottles, ear swabs, cosmetic bag, hairbrush, Band-Aids. Nothing even remotely dangerous. Panic swelling, she wiped a clammy hand against her skirt. Somewhere, in the shadows of her house, a killer lurked, intent on—
Plunger! The thick rubber cap was attached to a sturdy wood handle. If need be, she could use the shaft like a billy club.