CHAPTER 21

The next morning before heading to the store, Corin descended into his basement and twirled the combination padlock on the door at the back of the room, his hands shaking. Why? Because of what he was about to do? Or because he felt like he was sliding into quicksand and this would only speed up his descent?

The door squealed open and he stood at the entrance and stared at the chair.

Move. He needed to do this. It was one of the best ways to know if he was dealing with a legend come to life or a hoax out of this Nicole woman’s fertile imagination.

He strode up to the chair and circled it counterclockwise, hands on his hips. “I somewhat loathe to do this, but I have to find out more about you. Starting with your age.”

He stopped, turned, and continued circling, now clockwise. “Which means I’ll need to take a small sample to send to the lab. A friend of mine will discover myriad facts about you through the process. I hope you can understand.”

What was wrong with him? He was talking to the chair like it was alive, like it was a golden retriever he was about to do a biopsy on. It was a hunk of wood. Maybe old. Maybe beautiful. But probably nothing more than finely turned pieces of wood from centuries ago.

Or maybe only decades ago.

Or maybe it was the greatest archaeological find of the century.

He stopped walking, pulled a small blade from his pocket, and knelt in front of the chair. As he touched the inner left leg—where taking a sample from would be the most hidden—the air in the room seemed to grow warm, then back to its normal temperature a moment later.

Mind games. He wouldn’t let his brain start playing tricks on him again.

With wood this old he needed to be careful. If the blade bit too deep, he’d end up taking off more than he wanted to. Corin ran his finger over the section he was about to cut into.

The wood was hard; he’d have to apply more than the usual pressure to remove a piece.

He pressed the edge of his knife into the tip of his left forefinger. Sharp. Should he sharpen it more just to make sure? No. It was an excuse to keep him from marring the chair. But he didn’t really have a choice.

He set the blade into the wood at a twenty-degree angle. All he needed was a sliver. To his amazement the blade slipped under the surface of the wood like he was carving on a cube of butter. No resistance. After a quarter of an inch, he pulled up on the blade and watched a thin slice tumble into his palm.

He stared at the spot on the chair where he’d taken the sample and pressed the edge of his blade gently into the cut. It was rigid. He pressed harder. Where before the wood had been softer than Play-Doh, now it was like pressing into stainless steel.

Corin fell back on his heels and focused on the chair.

Weird was getting weirder.

Was there a faint glow around it now, or was the light playing tricks? He got to his feet and shut off the lights to see if the glow remained.

Nothing. Complete darkness.

He pulled a glass vial from his pocket, slid the sliver in and capped it. After shutting and padlocking the door, climbing the stairs, and locking the door to the basement with a keyed dead bolt, he poured himself his eighth cup of black coffee and picked up his cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Travis, it’s Corin. Did you get my e-mail last night?”

“I got it.”

“I just took a sample. Can I drop it off this afternoon even though it’s Sunday?”

“Of course.”

Corin stared at the door to his basement. He eased over to it and checked the dead bolt again. Still locked. He laughed at himself, wandered back past his espresso maker, and grabbed his car keys off the kitchen table. “How soon can you have the results back?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?” Corin shut his front door and strode toward his car.

“Do you want the full workup or just its age?”

“For now just how old.” Corin fired up his truck and started down the road in front of his house toward I-25.

“You think you have a fake antique on your hands?”

“Something like that.”

“What year is it supposedly from?”

“Can’t tell you yet.”

“Me?” Travis laughed. “You can’t or you won’t?”

“Both.”

“Now I’m really curious.”

“I will, just not yet.” Corin veered to the left on Mesa Road to pass a slow-moving yellow Slug Bug.

“At least tell me what the piece is from.”

Corin paused. He’d known Travis for six years. They weren’t friends, but he’d easily have a beer with the guy if they bumped into each other on the street. And he was trustworthy.

“It’s from a chair someone gave me the other day. Probably Middle Eastern. If I’m right, it’s old. Very old. And it has me curious enough to want to get some details about it.”

“Disappointing. I was hoping it was something from King Arthur’s armor.”

“Now that would be worth keeping secret.” Corin pulled up to a stoplight and glanced at the wannabe cowboy in the Nissan truck next to him. Had the guy just been looking at him? Corin put on his sunglasses.

“You’re bringing it in now?”

“I have a few stops first, so I should be there in about an hour.”

Ten minutes later he pulled into Hardline Hardware to pick up a few home-surveillance cameras for the store and for his house. He’d been meaning to do it for a while, and now that Ben Raney and Nicole had heightened his senses regarding people potentially after the chair, it was time to get cameras installed.

Corin shut off his engine but didn’t get out of his Toyota Highlander. Six rows over sat the same truck he’d been next to at the stoplight. A few seconds later the cowboy got out of the truck and ambled toward the hardware store. He didn’t glance at Corin, but Corin couldn’t shake the feeling the cowboy purposely didn’t look his direction.

As Corin drove away to drop off the sliver of wood with Travis, he tried to relax.

Whew. He needed to get a handle on his emotions. When had the seeds of suspicion grown into a fully grown redwood of paranoia?

But his gut told him someone was planting an entire forest.