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“That would be awesome! Swimming season is in full swing, but I’ll make the time. What’s the case about? And when can I start?”
Hez smiled at the young man’s enthusiasm. “Let’s talk tomorrow after class. This is the oddest drug-smuggling case I’ve seen in a long time, but I’ll save the details for our meeting. I’ll have a few projects for you too. The probable cause hearing is next Tuesday at eleven o’clock, and we’ll need to be ready.”
Hez chuckled as he ended the call. This guy was as excited as a caffeinated puppy. The thought reminded him that he needed to walk Cody when he got home—but first he had one final project to finish.
The video clips from the warehouse security camera had finally arrived—over two weeks after he’d requested them—while he was in class yesterday, but he hadn’t opened them until he was sure he had the building to himself. The last thing he wanted was for a colleague or a student to pop in for a chat and see someone they knew on his monitor. He went to the door and took a quick peek down the hall—no one in sight and all the other offices were dark.
He started downloading the clips. While his computer worked, he poured himself a cup of stale coffee and grabbed a couple of protein bars from the stash he kept in his desk for when he worked through a meal. Then he sat back to watch.
The first dozen or so clips were all Tony Guzman. He followed the same pattern each time—open a box of artifacts, carefully take one out, photograph it with his phone, carefully put it back, take out the next one, and so on. In other words, he appeared to be doing exactly what he’d said: creating a detailed photographic catalog of the Willard Treasure. Hez was sorely tempted to hit fast-forward, but he decided against it because he might miss some crucial detail. An hour later, he regretted that decision.
The Charlie Hinkle clips were a little more entertaining—like a dull reality show with no sound but occasional funny moments. The little old professor would spend ten minutes rummaging through a box, talking to himself the whole time. Then he’d leave with an artifact, usually forgetting a notepad or something, which he’d retrieve in a clip time-stamped an hour or so later. He spent one entire clip searching for his glasses, then realizing they were sitting on his forehead. By the time he finished watching the Hinkle Show, Hez was convinced that he was innocent too. Which left Erik Andersen.
Hez poured himself a fresh—or new anyway—cup of coffee and started the Andersen clips. In the first one Andersen walked in carrying a duffel bag. Hez expected him to start shoving artifacts into it. But instead he took out a wine bottle, corkscrew, glasses, and candles. He arranged these on a little table in the corner next to a couch Hez hadn’t noticed before. He returned a few minutes later with a young woman wearing a sorority sweatshirt.
“Well, now I know what you were hiding.” Hez shook his head. It was hard to believe Jess had fallen for such a dirtbag, but she had been a lot younger then.
Hez was left with the same questions he had started with. Who was stealing artifacts? And who had attacked Savannah?
* * *
Savannah gave the warehouse door a dubious look. It was her first time back since she was attacked, and a little tendril of unease stroked her spine.
“Here you go, Miz Savannah. Yer safe—nobody in here but the rats.” The old guard, Oscar Pickwick, stood out of the way for Savannah to enter.
The drooping skin around his rheumy brown eyes wrinkled in a smile. “Just funnin’ you. My old tomcat, Meowth, keeps the rodent population under control. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
As he turned to leave her to begin her task, he lifted his phone and touched the screen. The opening music to his Pokémon Go app began to play. Savannah had been in his path when he was playing his game once, and he’d nearly knocked her into the pond. She was probably safer with the remaining rats.
She stepped into the cavernous room, and the odor of must and old wood hit her. A fluorescent light flickering on and off made the place seem even more like a nightmarish scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark. She eyed the mountains of old crates stacked nearly to the twenty-foot ceiling in the old warehouse. How did she even begin?
Crowbar in hand, she forced herself to move down the line to the bigger crates. She’d always been intrigued by pre-Columbian art. It wasn’t just about Mayan and Incan art, but there were smaller groups who had their own distinctive pieces. Anything created by indigenous people from five hundred years before Christ up through the time of Columbus was of interest to collectors.
She clambered up on a smaller crate she’d already examined and slid the tip of the metal bar under the lid. The old pine was in remarkably good condition and resisted her amateur efforts until the tight nails gave a final squeal and the lid began to move. She managed to get it open and peered inside. A large stone “temple” was inside. It looked to be from the Mezcala culture with its colonnades. It had probably been used in an ancient funeral.
She pulled a copy of Professor Guzman’s updated inventory from the back pocket of her jeans and found the item listed. Could any pieces have been removed before the inventory was done? She had no way of knowing. After checking it off, she replaced the top and moved to the one on the other side to repeat the process. The next crate held an assortment of jade that had been highly prized all across Mesoamerica, especially by the Mayans.
She repeated the process down the long line of crates and, hours later, found nothing missing now that Professor Hinkle had checked out the items he’d taken. Even the gold pieces were still present. There were still crates to go through, but Savannah had the sinking feeling she would find no information for the long hours she’d spent. Maybe she should take a break and run out for coffee.
She spread the printout atop one of the crates and studied it. Frustration gathered in her chest, and she exhaled. She had to be overlooking something.
Soft footfalls from outside the door caught her attention, and she glanced that way to see Beckett enter the warehouse with cups from University Grounds in his hands. He was dressed in biker shorts and a tee, and his skin glistened from a recent workout.
“You read my mind!” She crossed the distance between them and wiped a filthy hand down the side of her jeans before she took the cup he held out. “Thank you, thank you.”
“I thought you’d need a break by now.” With one hand now free, he reached out and rubbed at her cheek with his thumb. “Dirt. In fact, you might need two showers.” His gaze swept down over her red tee and worn jeans. “You might need to wash your clothes twice too.”
“I don’t think I even want to look in the mirror.” She took a sip of her mocha and sighed. “Heavenly.” Her stomach rumbled and she realized she’d missed lunch, but the milk in her drink would dull the hunger pangs.
He glanced around the huge room. “Find anything?”
“Nothing. It’s so frustrating. I wouldn’t have been attacked unless someone wanted to keep me from discovering something criminal.”
“You look stressed. A workout would fix that. I’ve got an extra bike, and we could pedal down to the beach.”
A mere nine miles for him, but a hard trek for her when she hadn’t been on a bike in years. She and Hez used to have bikes they’d take out for leisurely rides with Ella in her little helmet perched in a seat behind one of them. The sudden memory pushed out the frustration of her lack of progress on the case.
“You okay?”
