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Denver Museum of Nature and Science
ROSE SAT IN a tiny office in the back corridors of the museum. Her jaw ached where she ground her teeth in frustration. Her wrist stung, chafed by the handcuff gripping it too tightly, the other end secured to the back upright of the straight-backed chair she sat on. Those goons who grabbed her weren’t police, just museum security. They had no right to detain her, certainly not to physically restrain her. They had taken her bag away and left it on the desk outside the room she had been locked in. Anger seethed through every fiber of her, and no little fear. After what had happened to her sister’s friend, what might have happened to Lily herself, Rose knew a lot of her anger was a cover for her terror. And where was Crowley? Was he oblivious to all this? Was he locked in another office somewhere else? She decided not to mention him unless someone else did, just in case he was still under their radar.
Through the tiny window in the door she saw one of the security guards talking with a man in a suit. The suited man glanced at the door and grinned. He said something else to the guard then came into the office. He closed and locked the door behind him, then sat facing her, a narrow aluminum desk between them. He remained silent, impassive. Rose sneered inwardly. She wanted to demand to know what was going on, demand he unlock the handcuff painfully securing her to the chair. She wanted to remind him his men weren’t any kind of police and all of this was highly illegal. At least, she assumed it was. Did different rules apply in America? Regardless, she realized he was playing a petty power game, waiting for her to talk first. Stubbornness was one of her best skills. She forced herself to relax and stare at him. They remained that way for what felt like an age.
Finally the man lets out an exasperated sigh. “My name is Hargrave.”
Rose nodded, kept silent.
Hargrave clicked his tongue in annoyance. “So, you’re back, eh? Which one did you plan on stealing this time?”
Shock washed over Rose. She knew she had never been here before, and for a micro-second she had felt a thrill of relief. He had the wrong person. But of course, he thought she was Lily. Stand them next to each other and the differences were legion. See each of them a few days apart and no one could tell the difference, it seemed. That only added to her anger. But she chose to play dumb.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t waste my time. I’m more than happy to involve the police, but frankly, all I really care about is the jar. Assuming you haven’t already sold it on the black market, you can return it and I’ll forget the whole thing. I’m a reasonable man, and I hate paperwork.”
“Return the jar?” she asked, trying to buy time to think.
“Yes. Simple as that.” Hargrave raised a warning finger. “And I’ll be able to tell if it’s a fake. Don’t think you can trick me.”
Rose realized she had to buy space with a little honesty. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” As Hargrave opened his mouth to speak again, anger glittering in his eyes, she added, “You want my sister.”
He barked a laugh, and then flashed a pitying smile. “You don’t really think I’ll believe that, do you?”
Rose drew a deep breath, calmed herself in order to speak slowly and clearly. It wouldn’t help if they got into a shouting match. “I know how this sounds. My sister is missing. I’m trying to find her and I believe she was here five days ago, maybe less.” Hargrave’s insistence on the theft and Rose’s culpability removed all doubt that Lily had been to the museum. There was some hope in that. At least she had made it out of the hellish airport.
Hargrave shook his head. “I don’t believe you. One of our docents recognized you as the woman who asked a thousand questions about the jackal-headed canopic jar... the one that disappeared later that night.”
Rose frowned. “The jar is still there. I was just looking at it moments ago.”
“That’s a reproduction, to keep the display intact.” He paused thoughtfully. “How did you manage it? Hid inside an office and slipped in after hours, I suppose. But to avoid all the security measures? Impressive.”
Rose sighed, shook her head. “It wasn’t me. It was my sister, Lily. I really need to find her, she might be in danger. Look in my bag, out there on the desk. I’ve got pictures.”
Hargrave’s brow furrowed. He turned and went out into the front office. He returned with her bag, locking the door behind him again. It disturbed Rose that he kept locking them in. He put the bag on the small table between them and sat down again.
Rose used her free hand to reach into the bag, then sighed, remembering that Crowley had the pictures. “Actually, my friend has the pictures I was thinking about,” she said, reluctantly admitting she wasn’t in the museum alone. “He was asking around about my sister, to see if anyone here remembered her.”
Hargrave rolled his eyes. “Your friend has them. Of course. And you’re going to stick to the sister story?”
Rose wished she had some photos on her phone or something. Why hadn’t she thought to do that, in case the hard copies were lost? It was infuriating. “It’s true! We both want the same thing, to find my sister!”
Hargrave shook his head. “I’m going to give you..." He glanced at a clock on the wall. “Ten minutes to change your mind. If you are willing and able to return the jar, we can move on with our lives. If not, we’ll involve the police.”