Behind the Walls (27 page)

Sighing, Rivers got to her feet. ‘Do you feel up to going back there, Mrs Jennings? So you can show me exactly where the body is?’

It wasn’t until she peeled herself off the sofa that Harper realized exactly how drained she was. ‘Of course.’ She teetered as she started for the door.

‘Going with.’ Hank’s beefy hand closed around hers. And suddenly, she wasn’t quite as exhausted any more.

A patrol car followed them. Rivers didn’t turn on the sirens; there was almost no traffic at this early hour. Harper sat in the back seat with Hank, leaning against his shoulder.

‘Got dark out. Waited. Thought you mad still with me. Stayed out.’

Harper shook her head, no. She hadn’t been mad.

‘Got mad, too. Thought OK. Games. Let her play. Late got though. Finally, called you. Not answer.’

‘But I wouldn’t do that. I don’t play games, Hank.’

‘Midnight after. Worried. Tried to find house. Lang. Ston’s. Didn’t know. Where. Had to find. Came there. Looked for you.’

Wait. Hank had gone to Langston’s? He’d been there?

‘Drove there.’ Hank’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Window broken found. Looked whole house. Your bike. Your. Bag. Phone. Broken rel. Licks. Blood. Lots. And hole big in wall. No you.’

Harper’s eyes filled. Hank had gone to look for her. She wondered – in the tunnel, had she really heard his voice? ‘Did you call my name?’

He went on. ‘Looked in wall. Yelled “Hoppa.” Tried to go through hole. Arm. Leg. Caught, stuck. Couldn’t get in. Help.’

‘Your husband was quite alarmed, Mrs Jennings. He called us, and we went out about one in the morning, looking for you. When we saw the blood, we got concerned. Took samples. Made the third floor east wing into a crime scene. We sent an officer into that hole with a rope, so he wouldn’t get lost. He got to the end of his rope, literally, and came back. Frankly, we were all pretty concerned. We were about to get a dog to follow your scent.’

Wait, the police had been to Langston’s? Why hadn’t they seen the thieves? And why hadn’t the thieves seen them?

‘Meantime, I took your husband back home and kept him company until your friends got here. He’s had a hell of a night, and I didn’t want him to be alone. When you suddenly showed up, you can imagine how relieved we were.’

Hank leaned over, planted a tender kiss on her forehead. Harper leaned up; her lips met his. She stayed tightly secured in his arms until Rivers pulled on to the road leading to the Langston house.

Then, Harper sat up, gazing out the window as they approached the spot where she’d found Zina. ‘I came out of the tunnel somewhere in there.’

Rivers stopped; the patrol car parked behind them. Everyone got out.

Harper tensed, preparing herself to go back.

‘OK?’ Hank whispered.

She met his eyes, took a breath, and led the way into the thicket of trees and bushes, past the clearing where she’d had drinks with Zina’s brother, looking for the opening in the ground. Damn. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention? Why hadn’t she marked the spot?

She walked in circles. The opening wasn’t small, had been large enough for large men carrying packages to walk through. But then she saw a subtle path, crushed foliage leading to the road, and she followed it around a fallen tree trunk.

From the outside, hidden in the thicket, the ramp seemed small and harmless. Kind of like a large animal had burrowed there.

‘He’s down here,’ Harper started into the tunnel.

Detective Rivers grabbed her arm. ‘Mrs Jennings. Wait here.’ She motioned the officers to go first, handing each a flashlight. ‘Give us the all clear.’

One at a time, preceded by thin, white beams, the two men lowered themselves through the opening on to the ramp, guns drawn.

‘We’re clear, Detective.’ The call came almost immediately. Too soon.

Rivers went in, Harper right behind her, leaving Hank to lumber behind.

‘Do you see him?’ Harper asked as Rivers entered the hollowed out room. ‘He’s in the back—’ She stopped at the bottom of the ramp, and stared.

The room, except for a few broken crates and a couple of black and white bird feathers, was empty. Rick was gone, along with the altar that had held him. There were no lanterns, no pots of burning oil. All that remained of what she’d seen were primitive paintings on the wall: a deer, a dog, an owl, a jaguar, and a man with a jaguar head.

Harper was furious. If Rivers hadn’t stalled, wasting precious minutes back at home, they’d have caught the men. But now, there was no proof of anything, not even of Rick’s murder.

Harper showed them the opening to the tunnel. ‘This leads back to the house. And all through the house. Chloe Manning’s in there. I can show you.’

Hank’s arm was around her. ‘Tired too.’

Harper twisted, freeing herself. ‘No. I’m not too tired. I should show you before these guys have time to make more evidence disappear.’

Rivers bristled. ‘Look, Mrs Jennings. If you’re implying that I—’

‘We should have come right back here, like I said.’

Rivers stood tall, looked down a few inches at Harper’s face. ‘Listen, ma’am. When you came into your house, you were in no condition to go anywhere. You had a head wound and you were rambling. Before I moved, I needed to understand what you were saying, as well as to assess the accuracy – actually, the credibility – of your claims. I acted as quickly as I thought reasonable. Within a matter of minutes.’

‘But we missed them.’

Rivers crossed her arms, met Harper’s eyes. ‘Mrs Jennings, if what you say is true—’

‘
If
?’

‘—then I’m pretty sure your relic traffickers had removed the body by the time you got home.’

The two women stared at each other for a moment, Harper steaming.

‘I understand you’re frustrated and exhausted, but I need to conduct an investigation, and I’d appreciate your calm cooperation. How about you show us exactly what happened back in the house?’

Hank had stepped close, silently took Harper’s hand. Then, as a group, they went back to the cars and drove up to the house where they found two very agitated men, standing at the door.

Angus spoke first. ‘What the hell’s been going on here?’

‘We were just about to call the police. We thought someone murdered you.’ Jake glared at Harper.

She said nothing, was listening to their voices, wondering which of them was the relic thief.

‘So you called the cops? What the hell went on up there!’

‘I told you, Jake.’ Angus grumbled. ‘It’s the damned university and all their publicity. Someone fucking broke in and robbed us. The collection’s been in the news so much, we might as well have had an open house for burglars.’

‘Gentlemen,’ Rivers interrupted, ‘can we take a look inside?’

On the way upstairs, Angus went on, ‘Man, I wish I’d come by earlier. I’d have caught those sons of bitches.’

‘Why did you come by, Mr Langston?’

‘I come by every day. To check on the place.’

‘What time was did you get here?’

‘Dunno. Before six.’

‘Awfully early, isn’t it?’

‘Not for me. I’m up at sunrise.’

By the time they’d arrived on the third floor, Angus had explained that he’d seen the missing windowpane and called Jake. Together, they’d gone into the house and found mayhem upstairs. A smashed wall. Broken artifacts. And blood.

‘We thought it was your blood,’ Jake moved closer to Harper.

Hank took a step forward, stood between them.

But Harper wasn’t paying attention. She was concerned; the crates that had been stacked in the hallway were missing. Where were they? On an impulse, she peeked through the gash in the wall and in the dim light below saw a heap of mangled wood and packing boxes.

A sound – kind of a groan – escaped her belly as, oblivious to the others, she rushed to check the workroom. Thank God, the crates there remained unharmed. But there was damage there, too. Despite the stiffness of her leg, Harper knelt and carefully picked up the pieces, cradling a broken ancient bird.

It was a catastrophe.

Harper grabbed her stomach, felt the loss as physical pain. ‘Oh my God. Oh God,’ seemed to be all she could say. She stood, gently replacing the broken artifacts on the worktable and rushed back to hall where Angus and Jake were shouting, cursing, pacing in distraught concentric circles.

Hank had looked at the breakage. As had Rivers and the two officers. Harper shoved her head back through the hole, gawking at the devastation, baffled about what could have happened. Replaying the night before, her encounter with Rick.

She’d fallen through the wall and escaped into the tunnel. But she hadn’t broken the wall, had she? No, it had merely given way.

So Rick must have tried bashing the wall in. And then found out how to open the door before throwing the crates down into the passageway? Why?

Rick had had no idea what the crates held. To him, they’d merely been big wooden boxes. So he’d dropped priceless, irreplaceable objects so he could climb down the boxes that held them.

‘She was up here. She must know what happened.’ Angus came at Harper from the left, Hank half a step behind him. ‘Did you have anything do to with this?’ Angus raised his hand to grab her arm; Hank’s went up to intercept it. Angus wheeled around, swinging, his fist thudding into Hank’s jaw. Harper leapt at his back, jabbing his ribs, but the officers pounced on her, one from each side while Rivers separated Angus and Hank, cautioning Jake against moving a muscle.

‘Mother of God,’ she breathed. ‘What is wrong with you people?’ She shook her head. ‘No, don’t answer that. Don’t say a single word, anybody. Unless I ask you to.’

Harper went to Hank. His gum was bleeding. She glared at Angus, who glared back.

When the room was silent, Rivers looked at them, one after another. Then she said, ‘So. Who wants to tell me what you all are fighting about?’

They all began talking at once. But Rivers made them take turns, and finally came to understand the significance of the smashed crates, that the treasures they held were part of Professor Langston’s renowned, disputed, and controversial collection.

‘It was Rick. The dead guy who wasn’t there just now – the one who attacked me—’

‘Hold on – a dead guy who wasn’t there attacked you?’ Jake rolled his eyes.

Rivers scowled, held up her hand. It made sense to her.

‘Rick had no idea about the relics,’ Harper went on. ‘He came here for me. And when I fell through the wall, he must have smashed his way through and piled up the crates so he could come down after me.’

‘After you?’ Angus looked at Jake. ‘She was in the passageway?’

‘How’d you get in there? Actually, how did you even know about it?’ Jake’s head didn’t move, but he glanced at his brother.

Again, Rivers quieted them. ‘You guys interrupt again, I swear, I’ll arrest you.’

‘What the hell? We can talk if we want. We own this damned house and—’ Angus began. Harper thought she recognized his whiny tone.

Rivers’ gaze seared him, made him stop mid-sentence.

‘So this guy broke in downstairs,’ Rivers summarized. ‘But he didn’t know about the relics. So what did he want?’

Hank squeezed Harper’s hand a little too tightly. Letting her know he had questions, too.

‘Me.’ She couldn’t stop thinking about the broken relics. The incalculable loss Rick had caused. She heard him urging her to cooperate with Colonel Baxter, to work with them. But he’d known she wouldn’t agree, had brought a gun. ‘He came here to offer me a job.’

‘A job.’ Rivers looked skeptical.

‘Job?’ Hank echoed.

‘The same “job” he’d offered Burke. Right before Burke jumped off the bridge.’

‘Hoppa? What. Saying—’ Hank began.

‘Rick tried to bribe everyone from our special detail.’ Harper tried to explain, had trouble knowing where to start. ‘He wanted to keep us quiet about what happened in Iraq. See, turns out, Burke’s conspiracy theories weren’t totally delusional. I think he was correct that our detail unknowingly aided a superior officer in a heist – a theft of millions of dollars in cash.’

Rivers frowned. ‘That superior officer was—’

‘Yes,’ Harper interrupted. ‘Colonel James Henry Baxter. The Senate candidate.’

The frown deepened.

Harper continued. ‘Pete Murray figured it out – maybe he knew from the start. Anyhow, I think Murray threatened to expose him. Maybe even tried to blackmail him. After that, the Colonel must have assumed that everyone in the detail knew; we were all liabilities. He couldn’t afford a scandal – let alone prison – so he hired Rick  . . . Rick was on the detail, too. And Rick’s job was to pay the rest of us off. To convince us to keep silent. Suddenly, soon afterwards, Pete “committed suicide”. Then Burke. Who knows? If I hadn’t fallen into the tunnel, I might have “killed myself” too.’

For a moment, nobody spoke. Hank’s nostrils flared and his breath was heavy, but he said nothing, containing himself. Angus cleared his throat, looking at his feet.

Finally, Rivers sighed, shook her head. ‘OK. Clearly, this is going to take a longer, more private interview. Right now, I don’t know what we’ve got here. The blood indicates that there might indeed have been a homicide. And we have a burglary, an assault with intent to kill by a person unknown. Destruction of property. For now, this whole house is a crime scene. Nobody comes in; after we leave, nobody goes out.’

‘But we need to find—’ Harper began.

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Jennings. If your buddy is anywhere in the house, we’ll find him.’

Her buddy? Rick? Harper nodded and walked with Hank back to the car, not bothering to correct the detective. She hadn’t been talking about finding Rick; she’d been talking about the relics. Hoping to find some that had survived the fall.

On the way home, Rivers said nothing, just drove. Harper leaned against Hank, struggling to stay awake. Wondering how many artifacts had been destroyed. Where Rick’s body was. What the brothers knew about the stolen relics – if they had been the men with Joe. Her eyes flittered closed, and she saw the passageways again, the endless corridors of darkness, twists and angles. She saw Chloe Manning’s skull fall from her fur coat. And Rick’s dead eyes, his open chest.