Love Inspired Suspense April 2015 #1 (3 page)

Despite her relief that nothing had been stolen, she couldn't stop the shiver of anxiety from slithering down her spine. Because if the intruder's intent had been to kill her...then he might come back to finish the job.

* * *

Adam drove through the midmorning DC traffic with Lana secured in the passenger seat. They were on their way to the museum. She hadn't said much other than a polite thank-you when he opened the passenger door for her.

He slid a glance her way, liking her profile. She'd tied her long dark hair back in a low ponytail, which gave him a clear view of her straight nose, high cheekbones and the proud jut of her chin.

From this vantage, he couldn't see the bandage but the bloodstains on the collar of her white blouse reminded him of the trauma she'd suffered.

He parked at an angle next to a patrol cruiser outside the entrance to the museum. After releasing Ace from the back, he escorted Lana inside. Ace walked between them.

A dozen or so uniformed patrol officers nodded in acknowledgement of a fellow law enforcement officer and gave Lana curious stares as she, Adam and Ace walked into the main lobby.

Adam had never visited this particular museum. He was immediately struck with the interesting way the wall art and the display cases were arranged, allowing a flowing progression through history. Solid white marble walls and matching floor provided a nondescript backdrop, which emphasized the colors of the artwork.

“Nice,” he said.

Lana caught his gaze. The beaming smile on her face full of pride made his heart jerk like the muscle had taken a direct hit from the business end of a Taser.

“We've worked really hard to make this a premier museum to rival the others in the city.” She touched his arm, the contact setting off a firestorm shooting up his arm beneath the thick cotton material of his uniform. She jerked her hand away as if she, too, had felt the current of electricity. Must be the static in the air from the spring storm.

She laced her fingers together in front of her. “If it were not for the Carroll family, this museum wouldn't be here.”

“Carroll family?” he murmured more to keep her talking than from real interest. In his experience when people got on a verbal roll they tended to divulge aspects of themselves they wouldn't normally share.

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. “Daniel Carroll was one of three commissioners appointed by General George Washington to survey and define the District of Columbia. The Carrolls owned land in Maryland, and Daniel strongly advocated locating the nation's capital on the banks of the Potomac.”

Her face glowed with animation as she went on to tell him about the Carrolls' descendants buying the building and forming a nonprofit foundation to start the museum. The joy in her voice squeezed Adam's lungs, wringing out all the air as though he'd run a twenty-block foot chase.

Maybe getting her to open up on a subject she was so passionate about wasn't the best idea since he got too easily wrapped up in her voice and could forget his purpose.

Out of the corner of his eye Adam spotted Detective David Delvecchio of the DC Police Department coming toward them.

Lana's monologue tapered off for a moment before she breathed out, “It's gone.”

Adam followed her gaze to an empty display case where a bed of red velvet sparkled with splinters of glass. Little plastic yellow markers were set in a circle around the case. As he led Lana closer, Adam noted bright red blood sprinkled on the floor amongst shards of glass. Lana's blood.

“What do you have?” Adam asked as the detective halted in front of them.

David's mouth lifted at one corner. “Former Special Agent Adam Donovan. Didn't realize we'd invited the K-9 unit to the party.”

Adam flinched at the reminder of his past. He could feel Lana's curious gaze on his face like an itch, but he refused to scratch. “This break-in may be related to an active investigation of ours.”

After giving Lana an interested once-over, David bounced his gaze back to Adam, a question in his eyes.

“Where's the arrow?” Lana asked, drawing David's attention back to her.

Knowing he had to tread lightly to ensure cooperation, Adam said, “This is Lana Gomez.”

David's eyes widened then narrowed. “I see. The artifact is with the crime scene technicians.” He turned his sharp-eyed gaze on Adam. “You poaching the case, Donovan?”

“More like hoping we can work together.” Adam kept his voice neutral. “As I said, part of an open investigation.”

If push came to shove, Adam knew Captain McCord would involve the woman who'd formed the K-9 unit, the president's special in-house security chief, General Margaret Meyer. The former four-star general would have no problem taking the case away from the local PD if necessary. Adam, however, preferred to keep interagency relations on good terms.

David cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, you show me yours, I'll show you mine?”

Adam's lips twitched. “Something like that.”

David's attention transferred back to Lana. “I'm sure you've already filled my friend, here, in, but we like to conduct our own interviews. Are you up to giving your statement to an officer?”

Lana nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Garrison,” David called to a young uniformed officer. “Take Miss Gomez's statement.”

Once Lana was out of earshot, David said, “Spill.”

“There's a connection between Miss Gomez and the Jeffries case,” Adam went on to explain.

David grimaced. “Nasty business.”

Motioning for Adam and Ace to follow him to the back of the museum, the detective pointed to a spot on the gleaming white marble floor beneath an oil painting of the Capitol building. Black scuff marks showed in stark contrast, clearly indicating a struggle.

“The intruder came up behind the security guard and placed him in a choke hold,” David continued. “Guard passed out and dropped like a bag of stones in the Potomac.”

Adam frowned as he surveyed the area. The guard would have seen the intruder coming. Did that mean he knew his attacker? But for a choke hold to work, the guard would have had his back turned on the intruder. More pieces of the puzzle that weren't fitting together. “Has the guard been released from the hospital?”

“Yes, he was released last night. He suffered no ill effects from the attack. Right now he's in the security office with my officers.”

“I'd like a moment with him. How did the intruder enter?”

“The perp bypassed the security system by jerry-rigging a bladeRF radio device to the system's keypad and jamming the signal while providing a phony rogue cell network for the keypad to latch on to. So when the intruder entered and the alarm sent a signal, it didn't really go anywhere, which allowed the intruder to enter undetected.”

Keeping Ace at his heels, Adam headed for the smashed display case where a short man wearing the blue coveralls of the crime scene unit was placing the artifact back on its velvet bed. “This is where the intruder attacked Miss Gomez.”

“Our best guess is she interrupted the unidentified suspect before he could take the arrow.” David pointed to the red spots on the floor. “He hit her over the head and knocked her out. The intruder didn't get what he was after because the security guard came to and managed to pull the fire alarm.”

Adam studied the long gold arrow; it certainly didn't look like any archery arrow he'd ever used. The pointed pile had a wide base that narrowed to a tip, much like a Native American arrowhead that appeared sharp enough to pierce skin. The gold-plated shaft measured roughly an inch in diameter and the fletching, normally consisting of feathers to give the arrow wings, was made from delicately pounded gold filigree. “I don't see any blood on it.”

“Should there be?”

“Miss Gomez claims he hit her with the arrow.” Adam's gaze went to where she stood in her serviceable navy pumps. Though the heels were low and her navy blue skirt dropped to just above her knees, he found his gaze drawn to her shapely calves. Did she cycle? Or run? Or was she naturally toned? He gave a quick shake of his head to clear his thoughts. Her exercise regimen wasn't any of his business.

David's eyebrows hitched upward. In response to Adam's statement or to the fact Adam had been staring at Lana? He tugged at the collar of his uniform shirt.

With a slight curl of his lip, David waved over a crime scene technician. “Did you find blood on the arrow?”

The tech shook his head. “No. No blood.”

Adam's gaze slid back to Lana. Suspicion snarled inside his chest. Had she lied to him? Or had the intruder cleaned up after himself? He rubbed his chin. The perpetrator of the break-in had the technical know-how to bypass a state-of-the-art security system and was physically capable of taking out an armed guard. Both suggested the intruder had training that went beyond the norm. It was plausible the trespasser would have the smarts to wipe away trace evidence.

“I found a latent print, though. I used an alternate light source to find it and then ran a photograph of the print through the FBI's and the DC fingerprint databases and got a hit.”

The tech's words jolted through Adam. Blood rushed to his head, making his temples pound. This was good news.

“Do you have an ID?” David asked.

“Yes, sir.” The tech held out a printed sheet of paper. David took the paper and studied it for a long tense moment. His jaw firmed. The hard glint in his eyes as he lifted his gaze and handed Adam the sheet sent apprehension sliding through him.

Adam stared at the photo identification of the person who had last touched the Golden Arrow. His stomach sank to his toes.

Lana Gomez.

THREE

T
he muscles in Adam's hand convulsed, crumpling the paper with Lana's photo. A cold draft of air swirled through the museum, settling around him like a dark cloak. Outside, rain pinged irritating little drops of water against the overhead skylight. Lana's soft voice echoed off the marble walls. He wasn't sure what to think about this new development.

Someone had broken into the museum, hit Lana on the head and knocked her unconscious. Her wound was not self-inflicted. She claimed the attacker used the arrow. But the CSU tech found no blood on the artifact. Only Lana's fingerprint.

“Recheck the thing for blood,” David directed the tech.

“Okay, but I'm telling you, there isn't any.” Reclaiming the arrow, the tech walked away to reexamine the piece.

Adam's gaze zeroed in on Lana. Even across the room, her fatigue was evident in the way she rubbed at her neck as if to massage away a knot. She finished giving her statement to the officer and slowly made her way to Adam's side. She stared at the broken glass littering the floor, her arms wrapped around her middle.

She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. The bruising beneath the edges of the bandage covering her lovely face clutched at him and he fought to keep from running his hands over her arms to soothe away her upset.

Ace moved to her side and leaned into her so that Lana's long, tapered fingers could rub the sweet spot behind his ears.

Normally his partner was reticent to let others touch him. By nature Dobermans were energetic and could be friendly when they were comfortable. But Ace was also fierce and loyal and intimidating, especially when working.

Most of the time, people were too nervous to broach petting the dog, let alone the dog allowing attention from strangers. Adam wasn't even sure Lana realized what she was doing or how unique it was for Ace to seek out her touch. By the way Ace's eyes rolled in his head the dog obviously enjoyed the contact.

“Ace, heel.”

The dog jumped to attention, sitting at Adam's side, his ears perked up and his eyes on his master. That was more like it.

“Don't be angry with him.” Lana's softly spoken words hit Adam square in the chest. “He's a good dog.”

“Yes, he is, but we're working now.”

David cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Miss Gomez, can you walk us through what happened last night?”

“I just told everything to your officer.”

When David didn't respond, she glanced at Adam as if looking for support.

He nodded, encouraging her to retell her story. He wanted to hear her version again. Would she stick to her claim the suspect had hit her with the arrow?

She let out a soft, delicate sigh full of resignation. “I was in my office working.” She pointed to the hallway behind them. “I heard a thud then glass breaking. I thought maybe Brad had slipped and fallen. I came out and saw the man dressed in white reaching for the arrow.”

Adam visualized the event unfolding. Most people would have fled in search of a phone to call for help. “How did you try to stop him?”

She licked her lips. He tracked the movement as awareness zipped through him, setting his senses on fire. Not good. Not good at all. He had a cardinal rule to never become emotionally involved in a case; doing so impaired one's judgment.

He jerked his gaze back to Lana's eyes in time to see a flare of interest in the dark depths, but then the flame was gone so fast he wouldn't have been able to stand in court and swear he'd seen the look. Must have been a trick of the lighting inside the museum. Or maybe a stray sunbeam from the overhead skylight. But that couldn't be since it was raining. He gave himself a mental shake to clear his thoughts and refocused on her words.

“I attacked him. I've been taking mixed martial arts classes.”

He dropped his chin and stared at her. He wasn't sure if she was crazy or brave. Or both. That was the problem with self-defense classes in a gym. People tended to think when the time came they'd be prepared to act, but reality never followed the patterns learned in a studio class. Especially when it came to offensive moves. “You could have been killed.”

She made a face. “I reacted before I really considered what I was doing.”

He hadn't pegged her as impulsive.

“Were you the last one to handle the arrow before the break-in?” David asked.

“Handle?” She canted her head. “Yes, I suppose. I'm the one who placed the artifact in the display case earlier this week before the glass barrier was sealed, if that's what you mean.”

“You told me the intruder hit you with the arrow, isn't that correct?” Adam watched her closely.

“Yes, that's right.”

Sharing a dubious glance with David, Adam stated, “There was no blood found on the arrow. Only your prints.”

“What?” Her stunned gaze bounced between him and David. She took a step back. Ace rose to all fours, alert to her obvious tension. Adam gave him a hand signal to sit. Slowly, Ace sat but his gaze stayed intently focused on Lana.

“That doesn't make sense.” Her voice held a quiver of uncertainty. “He had the arrow in his hand. He used it to hit me and knocked me unconscious.”

“Did the man have gloves on?” David asked.

She blinked. “Yes, he did. White gloves that matched his clothes.”

Her version of the event wasn't lining up with the facts. Hopefully, the security guard would shed some light on the murky situation.

“Can I speak with Brad?” she asked.

David gave a sharp nod. “This way.”

Adam tugged on Ace's lead when the dog wouldn't leave Lana's side.

“You don't believe me, do you?” she asked before he had taken two steps.

“I'm reserving judgment,” he offered. It would be bad police work to let her in on what he was thinking.

There was no mistaking the hurt in her expression as she walked past him down the same hall in which David had disappeared. She was much easier to read today than the first time they'd met, but even so, Adam wasn't sure what to make of her story. The woman was an enigma. Calm and collected to the point of unemotional one minute, then impulsive and expressive the next.

At the end of the hall, Lana headed through an open door. “Brad, I was so worried about you!”

Adam stepped inside, stopping next to David to watch Lana hug a white-haired man of at least seventy and wearing a red uniform with the museum emblem on the breast pocket.

The man patted her back awkwardly. “I'm so glad you're all right.”

“I am.” She pulled back.

Brad grimaced. “Your poor head.”

David stepped forward and made the introductions. “Brad Givens, this is Officer Donovan, with the Capitol K-9 Unit. He'll be working with the DC police on the investigation.”

Lana slipped out of the way. The guard nodded and extended his hand.

After shaking Brad's hand, Adam asked, “Did you get a look at the guy, hear anything that might give a clue what he was after?”

“Show Officer Donovan the security video,” David instructed.

Adam arched an eyebrow at David. Apparently the answer to Adam's question would appear on the video feed.

Brad sat in front of a blank monitor on the table, pressed a few keys and the screen sprang to life.

The images on the display showed Brad stroll into view, apparently doing his rounds. A moment later a figure, dressed all in white and wearing aviator-style sunglasses, just as Lana had described, stepped out of the wall behind Brad. A convincing optical illusion.

The choke hold he used on the unsuspecting guard had been efficient, practiced, lending support to Adam's earlier thought that the intruder had been trained. Military? Law enforcement? Or a garden-variety thug with skills?

Once the guard was down, the intruder ripped the cord on the security camera and the screen went black.

Brad swiveled in his chair to face Adam. “As you saw in humiliating Technicolor, the guy took me down, quick and easy.” Bitter anger reverberated in Brad's voice. “He was strong and big and knew what he was doing. He disabled all the cameras. When I came to, my first thought was for Miss Gomez. She's the sweetest lady.”

Brad's jaw tightened as he continued. “When I saw her laying on the ground all bloodied I...” His voice cracked with emotion. “I thought she was dead.” He visibly collected himself and glanced toward the door with a smile. “Thankfully I was wrong.”

Lana had been hit and knocked out. But what happened in those moments while they were both unconscious? What had the intruder been after?

Lana shimmied past Adam to take Brad's hand.

“Did you see the intruder after you awoke?” Adam couldn't picture how the perp got away without being seen if the guard had come from the direction of the museum entrance where he'd pulled the alarm.

Brad gave a negative shake of his head. “No. I saw Miss Gomez and I ran for the alarm.”

Had the guard spooked the perp, forcing him to blend back into the walls to wait until the coast was clear and he could take the arrow? Adam turned to David. “Have you searched the whole premises?”

David gave him a keen look. “I had that same thought. We searched and found an open window in the employee break room and the main storage room's back door was unlocked. The intruder is gone. No way to tell which was the point of entrance or exit.”

What had caused the assailant to leave the arrow behind?

A commotion in the outer body of the museum drew Ace's attention. The dog barked to alert Adam. “I hear it, boy. Let's go see what all the racket is about.”

They all filed out of the security office and hurried to the main hall. A rotund middle-aged man wearing a suit that appeared haphazardly donned stood mopping his brow with a white handkerchief. His wet shoes tracked dirt across the gleaming floor to where an officer had the man corralled a few paces away from the empty display.

“Sir, you have to stay back,” the officer said.

“Who would do this?” the man demanded.

David gave the officer a nod, allowing the younger officer to step away. “Sir, I'm Detective Delvecchio. This is Officer Donovan. You are?”

Curious, Adam stepped forward. Ace sniffed the man, then lost interest and sat.

“My name is Fred Floyd, I'm the head curator of the museum.” He shifted his feet, his agitation clear in the hike of his shoulders and the red flush to his round face. “I can't believe this is happening.”

Lana rushed forward. “Mr. Floyd, I'm so sorry you had to come home from your vacation.”

The man blinked at her. “You're hurt.”

She waved away his concern. “It's nothing. The thief got away, but didn't take anything.”

Relief seemed to deflate Fred. His shoulders sagged, his chin dipped to his chest. “Wonderful news.”

“Has there been trouble here before?” Adam asked. “Other break-ins?”

“No break-ins.” Fred lifted his head. “We paid a mighty steep price for the security system that seems to have failed.” His eyebrows pinched together as he threw a furtive glance at Lana. “She has had some personal issues. The police were called, but I stay out of my employees' business.”

Lana let out a small gasp.

Adam raised his eyebrows at her. “What trouble?” Could this have anything to do with the break-in? With Rosa's murder? Michael Jeffries's?

“My ex-husband. It was handled.”

Fred's gaze shifted to the destroyed display case. “At least the Golden Arrow is safe. Where is it?”

“The crime scene techs have it,” David answered.

Fred's mouth twisted. “Please tell your people to be careful. It is old and very fragile.”

“They are being very careful,” David assured him. “Mr. Floyd, we'll need you to inventory the museum to be sure that nothing is missing. I will also require a list of employees and their contact info.”

Adam wanted to see that list, as well.

Fred nodded vigorously. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help you find the person who did this.”

David tipped his chin at the crime scene tech making his way toward them. “Ah, here's the arrow.”

Adam and Ace moved out of the way so the tech could hand Floyd the artifact. Once Floyd had the arrow in his hands, his frown deepened. He inspected all aspects of the gold piece.

Vehemently shaking his head, he held the arrow out like a deadly snake about to strike. “This is a fake. A collectible that we sell in the gift shop.” He pointed to a stamped imprint on the fletching. “See?”

Adam's gaze swung to Lana. She'd turned a sickly shade of green. Her hand went to her mouth. Panic flared in her eyes. “If that's a fake, then the intruder got away with the real one.”

* * *

Lana's throat constricted. Her lungs burned as oxygen refused to enter or leave. Her mind rebelled at what she'd just heard. The arrow had been stolen. A fake one put in its place.

With her prints on it.

She needed to sit before her legs gave out beneath her. She stumbled to the cushioned bench next to a wooden replica of the rowboat that brought General George Washington across the Delaware.

Breathe, she commanded herself. She gulped in air. This couldn't be happening.

She bent forward and put her head on her knees, hoping to stop the room from spinning.
Please, dear Heavenly Father...I don't know what to do here. I need You.

Would this turn of events prevent her from gaining custody of her nephew? Poor Juan. Her heart ached for the little orphaned boy.

Two black-booted feet appeared in her line of vision. Then a wet nose nudged the side of her face. Ace. She wanted to slip her arms around the beast and take the comfort he offered but she had a feeling Adam would not be pleased. He hadn't been happy when the dog wanted her to pet him. Hugging the animal would probably send the officer into a seizure.