the short-lived Kingdom of Jerusalem. Although the European knights—” He self-consciously cleared his throat. “I apologize. I’m rambling. Do you recall anything else?”
Edie Miller sucked her lower lip between her teeth, enabling him to see that she had slightly crooked front teeth. And plump beautiful lips.
“No, sorry. But you do believe me, don’t you? About Dr. Padgham being murdered?”
He shook his head, uncertain what to make of her fantastical tale. “Why in God’s name would this masked man kill Jonathan Padgham? Padge was as harmless as the proverbial fly. Annoying, at times, I admit, but utterly harmless.”
She stared at him, long and hard. As though he’d just asked a fool’s question.
“He was killed on account of the stolen relic.”
“ ‘Stolen relic?’ This is the first that you’ve made mention of a relic.”
A confused look crept into her eyes. A second later, shaking her head, she said, “Oh, God, I’m sorry. So much has happened. I’m getting everything mixed up. Like my brain is starting to short-circuit.”
Shock. She was beginning to go into shock. Again, he was tempted to pull her into his arms. Although her travails might be imaginary, her fearful panic seemed real enough.
“Drink some more coffee.”
She gulped down the last of her cappuccino. Seeing a faint brown smear on her upper lip, he unthinkingly picked up a paper napkin and wiped the smudge clean. Then, guiltily aware of the trespass, he crumbled the napkin into a ball, tossing it onto the table.
“Dr. Padgham was in the process of sending you a digital photo of the relic when he was killed.”
“A digital photo? Why would he have done that?”
Opening her tote bag, she removed a camera. “He didn’t say. As a back-up, I-I saved the photograph on the camera’s internal memory. Here—” She shoved the camera at him. “That’s the relic that was stolen.”
Holding the camera within a few inches of his face, Caedmon examined the digital photo, as through a glass darkly, disbelieving what he was seeing.
His breath caught in his throat, her outlandish story suddenly making perfect sense.
“Bloody hell . . . I don’t believe it. I absolutely don’t believe it,” he whispered, unable to draw his gaze from the photo.
“I take it from your stupefied expression that the relic is valuable enough to steal.”
“Most assuredly.”
“And how about killing? Is it valuable enough that someone would kill to obtain it?”
He lowered the camera, keenly aware that Edie Miller was in very grave danger.
“Oh, I think a great many people would kill to obtain the fabled Stones of Fire.”
CHAPTER 10
There will be in these last days many deceivers and false prophets and many who will follow them: For many deceivers are entered into the world.
With reverential care, Boyd Braxton closed the gilt-edged book and replaced it in the glove compartment. The Warrior’s Bible, leather bound and emblazoned with the Rosemont Security Consultants emblem, had been personally given to him by Colonel Stanford MacFarlane. And though he was in a beaucoup hurry, the colonel always said that it was important to give the Almighty his due.
Reaching under the Bible, he removed an official police permit and placed it on the dash of the Crown Vic. The permit gave him the right to park anywhere in the city. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t on the Metropolitan Police force. He looked like a cop. And he drove a cop car. No one would think twice.
Parked directly in front of him, covered in a light layer of newly fallen snow, was a black Jeep Wrangler. Just as he figured, no sooner did he leave her pad than the bitch crept out of her hidey-hole.
“Stupid cunt,” he muttered, getting out of the Crown Vic. Walking over to the Jeep, he slapped a magnetic tracking device on the metal underbelly. He could now monitor the vehicle’s every move on his cell phone, the tracking device programmed with an automatic call-out
Edie Miller sucked her lower lip between her teeth, enabling him to see that she had slightly crooked front teeth. And plump beautiful lips.
“No, sorry. But you do believe me, don’t you? About Dr. Padgham being murdered?”
He shook his head, uncertain what to make of her fantastical tale. “Why in God’s name would this masked man kill Jonathan Padgham? Padge was as harmless as the proverbial fly. Annoying, at times, I admit, but utterly harmless.”
She stared at him, long and hard. As though he’d just asked a fool’s question.
“He was killed on account of the stolen relic.”
“ ‘Stolen relic?’ This is the first that you’ve made mention of a relic.”
A confused look crept into her eyes. A second later, shaking her head, she said, “Oh, God, I’m sorry. So much has happened. I’m getting everything mixed up. Like my brain is starting to short-circuit.”
Shock. She was beginning to go into shock. Again, he was tempted to pull her into his arms. Although her travails might be imaginary, her fearful panic seemed real enough.
“Drink some more coffee.”
She gulped down the last of her cappuccino. Seeing a faint brown smear on her upper lip, he unthinkingly picked up a paper napkin and wiped the smudge clean. Then, guiltily aware of the trespass, he crumbled the napkin into a ball, tossing it onto the table.
“Dr. Padgham was in the process of sending you a digital photo of the relic when he was killed.”
“A digital photo? Why would he have done that?”
Opening her tote bag, she removed a camera. “He didn’t say. As a back-up, I-I saved the photograph on the camera’s internal memory. Here—” She shoved the camera at him. “That’s the relic that was stolen.”
Holding the camera within a few inches of his face, Caedmon examined the digital photo, as through a glass darkly, disbelieving what he was seeing.
His breath caught in his throat, her outlandish story suddenly making perfect sense.
“Bloody hell . . . I don’t believe it. I absolutely don’t believe it,” he whispered, unable to draw his gaze from the photo.
“I take it from your stupefied expression that the relic is valuable enough to steal.”
“Most assuredly.”
“And how about killing? Is it valuable enough that someone would kill to obtain it?”
He lowered the camera, keenly aware that Edie Miller was in very grave danger.
“Oh, I think a great many people would kill to obtain the fabled Stones of Fire.”
CHAPTER 10
There will be in these last days many deceivers and false prophets and many who will follow them: For many deceivers are entered into the world.
With reverential care, Boyd Braxton closed the gilt-edged book and replaced it in the glove compartment. The Warrior’s Bible, leather bound and emblazoned with the Rosemont Security Consultants emblem, had been personally given to him by Colonel Stanford MacFarlane. And though he was in a beaucoup hurry, the colonel always said that it was important to give the Almighty his due.
Reaching under the Bible, he removed an official police permit and placed it on the dash of the Crown Vic. The permit gave him the right to park anywhere in the city. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t on the Metropolitan Police force. He looked like a cop. And he drove a cop car. No one would think twice.
Parked directly in front of him, covered in a light layer of newly fallen snow, was a black Jeep Wrangler. Just as he figured, no sooner did he leave her pad than the bitch crept out of her hidey-hole.
“Stupid cunt,” he muttered, getting out of the Crown Vic. Walking over to the Jeep, he slapped a magnetic tracking device on the metal underbelly. He could now monitor the vehicle’s every move on his cell phone, the tracking device programmed with an automatic call-out
Similar Books
