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Authors: Candace Sams
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bottom of the crate. The last thing in the world she wanted was to have anyone catch her with them.
Staying low, she maneuvered around the large boxes to the other side of the room, out the far door and into the stairwell. Breathing hard, she raced to the first floor and out to her car. She had no idea where to go. She thought about Detective Dayton, but wasn't sure what she'd found was connected to Ned's death. It was almost a certainty someone on McPherson's...not the professor himself, had stolen the stones. No one would go to the trouble of building a false bottom into a crate if the objects they were shipping had been legally obtained. Then there were the discrepancies she'd noticed in the shipping and packaging of the artifacts. She pulled into a convenience store and dialed the telephone number to the antiquities division.
"Antiquities and collections, Niall Alexander speaking."
"Niall, this is Heather. I called to say that I might be late today. I wasn't feeling too well when I got up this morning." She was surprised how easily she could lie to him.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing, really. It's a woman thing, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, uh, I see. Uh...well...maybe you should stay home and get some rest."
"I'll see how I'm feeling later. I just wanted to touch base and let you and the Professor know why I'm not at work."
"Don't worry about a thing, babe. I'll make up an excuse for Angus. You just take care, okay?"
"Sure. And thanks, Niall." She hung up, certain he wouldn't question her absence further. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered what she'd ever seen in him. It occurred to her how cold their relationship had always been He was supposed to care about her, yet he'd always immaturely found the subject of her period a major embarrassment. If he knew it was "that time of the month," he stayed away from her apartment as if she were contagious.
Right now, she didn't want to have anything to do with him or anyone. A few hours alone would help her decide whether to wait or go to the police about the stones Gryphon had told her he couldn't go to the police about them, that the fewer people who knew about them, the better What's the deal with the damn stones? Why had someone risked his professional reputation by smuggling them into the United States, jeopardizing the museum's acquisition program in the process?
***
"The woman was killed the same way as the security guard at the museum." Gryph shook out the afternoon newspaper his father handed to him and reread the grim headlines. "In fact, the park where her body was found is only a short distance from the museum's main entrance."
James nodded. "Someone has used the stones again.
Whoever it is seems to have tried out their newly found powers on an unsuspecting victim. The guard may have been an accident, but this was definitely deliberate."
Gryph looked at his parents. "I have no choice. I have to go to the museum. This has to stop!"
"Gryph, if you're caught..." Gwyneth's voice faded away.
"What else can I do? The stones must still be there. Someone has deciphered their meaning and is abusing their power." Gryphon leaned against a desktop.
James voiced his concern. "What can we do to help?"
"If anything should go wrong, contact Shayla. She'll know what to do. Today, I'll try one more time to convince that stubborn woman to listen to reason. If she still won't help me, then I'll have to get inside the building tonight and search alone," Gryph told them and noted the look of concern on their faces.
"Gryphon, from what you've told us, this woman can't be trusted. She doesn't believe you. Please don't contact her again. She'll only call the police," Gwyneth pleaded and placed her hands on her son's arms.
"For some reason, Mother, she's had that opportunity and hasn't called the police yet. I'd be a suspect and there would be news of the authorities looking for someone matching my description. Every reporter in the city seems
Staying low, she maneuvered around the large boxes to the other side of the room, out the far door and into the stairwell. Breathing hard, she raced to the first floor and out to her car. She had no idea where to go. She thought about Detective Dayton, but wasn't sure what she'd found was connected to Ned's death. It was almost a certainty someone on McPherson's...not the professor himself, had stolen the stones. No one would go to the trouble of building a false bottom into a crate if the objects they were shipping had been legally obtained. Then there were the discrepancies she'd noticed in the shipping and packaging of the artifacts. She pulled into a convenience store and dialed the telephone number to the antiquities division.
"Antiquities and collections, Niall Alexander speaking."
"Niall, this is Heather. I called to say that I might be late today. I wasn't feeling too well when I got up this morning." She was surprised how easily she could lie to him.
"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing, really. It's a woman thing, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, uh, I see. Uh...well...maybe you should stay home and get some rest."
"I'll see how I'm feeling later. I just wanted to touch base and let you and the Professor know why I'm not at work."
"Don't worry about a thing, babe. I'll make up an excuse for Angus. You just take care, okay?"
"Sure. And thanks, Niall." She hung up, certain he wouldn't question her absence further. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered what she'd ever seen in him. It occurred to her how cold their relationship had always been He was supposed to care about her, yet he'd always immaturely found the subject of her period a major embarrassment. If he knew it was "that time of the month," he stayed away from her apartment as if she were contagious.
Right now, she didn't want to have anything to do with him or anyone. A few hours alone would help her decide whether to wait or go to the police about the stones Gryphon had told her he couldn't go to the police about them, that the fewer people who knew about them, the better What's the deal with the damn stones? Why had someone risked his professional reputation by smuggling them into the United States, jeopardizing the museum's acquisition program in the process?
***
"The woman was killed the same way as the security guard at the museum." Gryph shook out the afternoon newspaper his father handed to him and reread the grim headlines. "In fact, the park where her body was found is only a short distance from the museum's main entrance."
James nodded. "Someone has used the stones again.
Whoever it is seems to have tried out their newly found powers on an unsuspecting victim. The guard may have been an accident, but this was definitely deliberate."
Gryph looked at his parents. "I have no choice. I have to go to the museum. This has to stop!"
"Gryph, if you're caught..." Gwyneth's voice faded away.
"What else can I do? The stones must still be there. Someone has deciphered their meaning and is abusing their power." Gryphon leaned against a desktop.
James voiced his concern. "What can we do to help?"
"If anything should go wrong, contact Shayla. She'll know what to do. Today, I'll try one more time to convince that stubborn woman to listen to reason. If she still won't help me, then I'll have to get inside the building tonight and search alone," Gryph told them and noted the look of concern on their faces.
"Gryphon, from what you've told us, this woman can't be trusted. She doesn't believe you. Please don't contact her again. She'll only call the police," Gwyneth pleaded and placed her hands on her son's arms.
"For some reason, Mother, she's had that opportunity and hasn't called the police yet. I'd be a suspect and there would be news of the authorities looking for someone matching my description. Every reporter in the city seems
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