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Denver Museum of Nature and Science
THE DENVER MUSEUM of Nature and Science was unimpressive from the outside. Blocky and industrial, pale brown, it looked more like a warehouse than a place of knowledge and learning. But Rose knew better than to judge books by their covers. As they entered, unsure of what they were expecting to find, she fought against the rising certainty that they had hit a dead end. The young man, jerking dead from Crowley’s grasp in a sudden and violent attack, had disturbed her deeply. And she could see in Crowley’s eyes that it had affected him too. He was no stranger to death and killing, not unaccustomed to violence, but setting was everything. In the theater of war, death was a given and while it was a shocking, it was also expected. She imagined he would react entirely differently in that environment. The unexpected nature of the young man’s demise, the public and disdainful impact of it, had her and Crowley on edge. And though she surged with grief every time the thought arose, she couldn’t imagine Lily still alive. How could her sister have avoided a similar fate if that man’s life had been snuffed out so easily? So openly?
With no other direction presenting itself, they made their way up to the mummies exhibit. They paused at the entrance and read from a placard there.
“Mummies: New Secrets from the Tombs” is a rare glimpse at a collection of mummies from The Field Museum in Chicago, many displayed for the first time. Using modern technology and noninvasive research techniques, scientists avoided the hazards of unwrapping the fragile specimens and uncovered a wealth of new discoveries. Medical scanning, DNA sampling and advanced computer modeling revealed a storehouse of natural and cultural information with extraordinary detail.
“That’s pretty incredible when you think about it,” Rose said.
“They won’t even take them from the tombs soon.” Crowley grinned. “Maybe they won’t even go to the tombs. Just scan them from outside with a drone.”
“Sitting in a basement somewhere, with a nice cup of tea on hand?” Rose asked.
“Maybe!”
They wandered through, looking at displays. Large glass cases contained all manner of wrapped bodies and sarcophagi. Colorful wall displays explained the history of their archeology, shelves held canopic jars and models of heads. One section described how they used technology to rebuild the faces of long decayed people, recreating what someone looked like two thousand or more years ago.
Along with the expected Egyptian exhibits, there were preparations for the afterlife practiced by the ancient Peruvian cultures of Chinchorro, Paracas, Chancay and Nazca. Their methods apparently predating those of Egypt by 2,000 years. They looked at a Predynastic mummy from Egypt, one of the oldest in the world, apparently mummified naturally in the hot, dry sand about 5,500 years ago. The display suggested that some scholars believed this natural process gave the ancient Egyptians the idea for artificial mummification. There were animal mummies, considered offerings to the gods and pets for the afterlife. A crocodile, a cat, a baboon, birds and a gazelle. A walk-in tomb featured fragments of real stone sarcophagi and an intricately painted coffin. Rose stood for a long time looking at two women, wrapped in linen and enclosed in painted coffins, wondering at the lives they might have led. She took time to admire a scale model of an Egyptian temple, amazed by its detail.
Crowley sighed, turned in a slow circle. “This all feels like we’re on the right track,” he said. “But we need something concrete.”
“A real lead.” Rose agreed with the sentiment, assuming she pushed aside her concerns that they were already too late. She needed to act as though Lily were still alive, because otherwise the whole thing was pointless. And Lily might be alive, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility. If nothing else, she owed it to Lily to keep focused as if her sister were still living and able to be found.
“I’ll show Lily’s picture around to the museum staffers,” Crowley said. “See if anyone recognizes her.”
“Okay, good idea.” Rose pulled her picture of Lily from her bag, a different one to the half-profile Crowley had. “Take mine too, see what you can find. I’m going to keep looking around in here.”
Crowley reached out, took the photo. “You okay? I mean, besides the obvious?”
“Yeah. I’m struggling, I don’t mind admitting that.” She sighed. “Perhaps I just need a break, but we’re not likely to get one any time soon. The trail is getting colder by the minute.”
Crowley took her hand, squeezed it gently. “I get it. Relax here, as much as you can. See if you can spot anything that might have caught Lily’s eye. It might give us a new lead. I’ll ask around. Be back in ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Then perhaps we need to give ourselves a rest. Go and get a proper meal, find somewhere to stay tonight and get a good sleep. It’s pointless to run ourselves ragged.”
Rose smiled. “You’re probably right.”
“Of course I am. I’m always right.”
She grinned crookedly. “Don’t do that. You’re all right all the time you’re not being a dick.” She leaned forward and quickly kissed his cheek to show she was joking.
He absently put one hand to where her lips had touched him and she experienced a moment of regret. She didn’t want to give him any mixed signals. They had to focus on Lily. “You got it, Ms. Black,” he said. “No more dick. Just one hundred per cent Crowley.” He smiled, and turned away, heading for the entrance to the exhibit.
She watched him go, then continued to browse. Her own fascination with history and archeology was reason enough, her interest piqued by every item, every snippet of information. But the added relevance of her sister’s interest made Rose ache to understand everything. Surely there were answers hidden in these academic phrases, these cold and clinical explanations. Some deeper meaning that would give her insight into her sister’s passions and help Rose find the missing woman.
She reached a display with four canopic jars, the funerary storage vessels that held the vital organs of the deceased after the mummification process. Of the four in this display, each was inscribed with a different stylized head: a human, a falcon, a baboon, and a jackal. A jackal! Rose’s breath caught, finally recognizing something with at least a tenuous connection to Anubis. Surely if Lily had been here, this would be an item that captured her interest. It was the only representation of Anubis Rose had seen thus far.
She looked around to find Crowley, to show him, but he wasn’t anywhere she could see. No doubt trawling the other parts of the exhibit with Lily’s picture. She smiled softly. He was a good man, a genuinely caring man. He bent over backward to help her. She would never take that for granted.
She spotted a museum docent eyeing her suspiciously, the museum-issued shirt wrinkled and strangely oversized on the woman’s short form. Rose smiled, thinking perhaps this guide would have more information about the display, about the jackal-inscribed jar. She opened her mouth to speak but the woman turned on her heel and hurried away.
Rose frowned. Odd, she thought to herself, watching the guide’s wide butt whip out of sight around a corner. Shaking her head, Rose went back to inspecting the display. She read the signage, made a circuit of the glass case. Nothing there caught her interest beside the canopic jar itself. She needed to know why these four jars were marked as they were. What was the significance of the jackal design? She looked around again for a museum staffer, wondering if the one who had run off might have returned, when both her upper arms were seized in painful grips. She jumped, struggled, but the two uniformed men were giving her no quarter for escape.
One grimaced as he tightened his grip. “You need to come with us.”