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Martin stood when Drew Cooperman appeared. His muscles were stiff from a rough night on the too narrow, hard bunk.
“Good morning, Professor.” Drew slipped one of the keys on his ring into the cell door, clicking the lock open. “You are free to go, for now. I want you to stay in town. You are still a suspect in Angus Fitch’s murder.”
“What happened to drop me from prime suspect to merely a suspect?”
“Another murder.” Drew’s jaw clenched as he delivered the information.
“Who?” Martin had a feeling he knew the answer already.
“Giles Trelawney. He was found in the receiving room, in the basement of the museum. His death was nearly identical to Angus.” Drew paused, then continued. “Maggie and Spencer Knight found him.”
Martin cursed. “How is she?”
“Fine. A little shaken, which is to be expected. She is out in the waiting area, with Knight.” Drew stepped in front of him. “You should know, before you see her, that Maggie was assaulted last night, by a student assistant who works for Giles. It’s the reason she was at the museum this morning. She wanted to talk to Giles about what happened.”
His heart pounded, one hand closing over the bars of the cell. “Is she all right?”
“She was banged up a good bit, but she will recover. She told me a man she had met at the auction came to her assistance. An Edward Carlisle.”
“Sir Edward Carlisle. A dilettante of the first water. Did he try to buy the Sayer & Brown jar?”
Drew nodded. “Maggie said he begged off early in the bidding.”
“He must no longer have unlimited access to his family’s fortune.” Edward Carlisle had bought more artifacts out from under Martin than he cared to admit. The man was mostly harmless, and he knew his way around on a dig site. But his pompous, self-righteous attitude had always rubbed Martin wrong. “Is he still in Holmestead?”
“From what I understand, yes. He came to buy the jar from Giles, which I delivered to him last night. It will be returned for any trial, but I needed to keep it intact, and Giles planned to keep it locked in the acquisitions vault. Even if Giles had been so inclined, he wouldn’t have been able to sell the jar. It is still evidence in a murder.”
“May I see Maggie now?” The thought of her finding Giles, dead, left him shaky. He cared for her, more than he should after knowing her for such a short time.
“This way.”
Drew walked him out of the holding area, reeling off a list of things Martin was not to do. He heard only half of them, and stopped hearing Drew altogether when he caught his first glimpse of Maggie.
She sat in one of the torturous chairs in the waiting area, Spencer hovering at her side. When she lifted her head, he sucked in his breath. A dark bruise marked her right jaw, her usually bright blue eyes dulled with pain. Her right arm was cradled in a sling, and he could tell by the way she sat that she hurt.
He moved past Drew, headed for her. Spencer stood, putting himself in Martin’s path.
“She’s still a little wobbly, so tread carefully.”
Martin nodded, raising his eyebrow when Spencer still did not move. With a final warning glare, Spencer stepped aside.
“Maggie.” She looked up at him, offering a watery smile. Up close, he saw that some of the dullness was due to medication. “I am so sorry you were the one to find Giles.”
“He didn’t deserve that.”
“No one deserves what happened to him. Please, let us take you home.”
“Okay.”
Spencer picked her up and cradled her against his chest. Martin expected to be jealous, but he saw how Spencer looked at her. Like a brother protecting his sister. Any animosity died.
He followed Spencer outside, and almost smiled when he saw the van. If he did not already know that Spencer enjoyed surfing, the van would have pointedly informed him.
“Martin, can you sit in back? Maggie took some painkillers, and she no longer has the dexterity to climb into the front seat. I need you to keep her from sliding off the seat.”
“Of course.” Martin slid the back door open and climbed in, turning to help Spencer with Maggie. “Just a little farther, now, then you can sit.”
“Thanks.” She leaned against him, dragging her feet with every step. Martin wanted to lift her and settle her in his lap, but he simply kept her upright until they reached the bench seat. It was only a few steps. Maggie’s progress made it seem as if they had crossed the street. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Moving a little slow.”
“We are in no hurry. Ready to sit?”
“Yeah.”
Martin guided her down to the seat, and held onto her as he sat beside her. She immediately laid her head on his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. He kissed the top of her head without thinking, and she snuggled closer.
It took all of his control not to wrap his arm around her; he knew the damage was on her right side. So he contented himself with inhaling the scent of her wild, rich red hair.
She smelled of wildflowers, and the ocean. Martin wanted to bury his face in her silky hair, take her in his arms and kiss those full lips that smiled so easily—
He cut off his thought before it could finish forming. Maggie was hurting, and she hardly needed him drooling over her like a randy teenager.
“Martin?”
“Yes, Maggie.”
“You’re off the hook.”
“For Giles, yes. I was otherwise occupied.”
She smiled against his shoulder. “I love hearing you talk. I lost track of how many times I’ve watched your shows. I have them all on—oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Now you’ll think I’m a—that I’m a—ˮ She seemed to be stuck for the word she wanted, so he made a suggestion.
“Stalker?”
“That’s it. I’m not—a stalker, I mean. I just really like how enthusiastic you are about archaeology, and whatever you happen to be looking for.” She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. He studied the freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, sharper against her pale skin, tried not to feel the way he felt when she looked at him, like he was the only one in the room. “Martin?”
“Yes?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Forgive me. I am worried about you, Maggie. I suppose watching over you may look like staring.” Her smile warmed him. “I sounded like a thesaurus entry just then.”
“Yep, you did.” She laid her head on his shoulder again. “I like you, Martin.”
He opened his mouth to tell her the same, and was met with a soft snore.
Smiling, he leaned back, and carefully draped his arm over her shoulders.
“I find myself liking you as well, Maggie Mulgrew.”
He would protect her, no matter what it cost him.