Read Online Last Breath by Mariah Stewart - Free Book Online Page A

go on display here or there.”
    â€œThat’s what I told her, but the president of the college says the last curator of the museum was a real stickler. There’s no notation of that vault ever being opened. She doubts anyone presently at the school—including most of the trustees—would even recall that these items were in storage there.” John shook his head. “She needs the art-theft team, is what I think. I can have that coordinated, but right now she just wants to talk to you.”
    â€œDid she leave a number?”
    John took a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and passed it to Connor.
    â€œI’ll just give her a call, take a drive up there in the morning, see what’s what. We can always hand off the case if necessary.”
    â€œConnor, you don’t play well with others. If there’s something there, you’re not going to want to turn it over to someone else and walk away. I know you.” John rested his arms behind his head and leaned back. “What I don’t know is why you’d be so interested in a quiet little antiquities theft case. I admit I’m surprised.”
    Connor shrugged. “Change of pace. Maybe I’m tired of running all over the globe, chasing down informants.”
    â€œNice try.” John closed his eyes. “Next.”
    â€œMaybe I like art. Antiquities. Archaeology. Indiana Jones. All that stuff.”
    â€œWho is Daria McGowan, Connor?”
    â€œShe’s an archaeologist.”
    â€œThat much I know. I’ve got her background. Education, publications. Important digs. She’s very well known on an international level. The Iranians invited her in as a consultant on a big dig. American and female. A very big deal. Not their SOP.”
    â€œLike you said, she’s very well known internationally.”
    â€œHow do you know her?”
    â€œI met her in Morocco. Last fall.”
    â€œYou’re involved with her?”
    Connor smiled. “I only met her once.”
    â€œYou met her one time, in Morocco, and you told her you were an FBI agent?” John sat up, frowning. “A bit risky, don’t you think? In that part of the world?”
    â€œNah. She’s an old friend of Magda’s.” Connor smiled again. “Magda’s been trying to fix me up with her for about two years. We finally met in November.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd what? We met the one time, and we clicked. It’d be nice to see her again.”
    The two men sat in silence for a minute. Finally, John said, “Okay. You drive up there, you check it out. Help her look around for these artifacts; maybe they’re misplaced. Mislabeled. Maybe there’s been no theft.”
    â€œThat’s what I just said.” Connor nodded. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”
    â€œAnd if you determine this is really an art-theft case, we’ll turn it over to NSAF.” The FBI’s National Stolen Art Files unit. “They know the best way to track stolen antiquities, they’re the experts.”
    â€œSounds good.” Connor stood. “You feel like taking a dip, John? I have some extra trunks.”
    â€œNo, thanks. I need to be getting back. Genna’s been out of town on a job and should be in soon. I’d like to be there when she gets home.” He got off the lounge and stretched. “Next time, maybe.”
    â€œSure.”
    John followed Connor up the steps and into the house. “I’ll take a bottle of water for the road, though, if you have one.”
    â€œIn the fridge,” Connor told him and began to pull on a pair of khaki shorts he’d left on a chair in the sun porch. “Help yourself.”
    â€œThanks. You want one?”
    â€œSure.”
    Connor joined John in the kitchen a few minutes later.
    â€œI’ll call you as soon as I have a handle on this case,” Connor told him as he twisted the cap off the bottle