Read Online The Illumination by Karen Tintori - Free Book Online Page B

climb into a hot bath with a glass of wine.
    â€œI picked it up in Israel a few years ago,” she answered tautly. “When I was working on some archaeological digs.”
    She wasn’t about to tell him her life story. Or what had happened to Maren Svendborg in Israel, the horrific attack at Bet She’an that had robbed Natalie of her friend and impelled her to learn Krav Maga.
    â€œAre we almost finished, Detective?”
    â€œOne more question, Dr. Landau.”
    Natalie braced herself.
    â€œAre you by any chance related to the journalist Dana Landau? The one in Iraq? You look a bit like her.”
    â€œYou’re very observant, Detective. She’s my sister.”
    â€œBrave lady.” He tossed down his pencil and almost smiled. “I guess it runs in the family.”
    â€œOur parents died when Dana and I were teenagers. We had to be brave.” She leaned forward. “May I go now, Detective? It’s a long trip back to Brooklyn.”
    â€œBrooklyn, is it?” He scratched his head. “Just sit tight a minute, Dr. Landau. I’ll get Officer Lopez to drive you home.”
    It was a half hour later that Natalie finally reached her Willamsburg apartment. Her legs felt like jelly. She smelled onions and cumin lingering in the hallway, probably from Juan and Peter’s kitchen. Normally, Natalie loved the aromas wafting from their apartment, one night Thai, one night Moroccan, but tonight food was the furthest thing from her mind. Every muscle ached, her scalp throbbed, and she was mentally exhausted from the questioning by both the police and her superiors.
    She grimaced, remembering the way Detective Henderson had studied her with those piercing eyes until she felt like confessing—even though she’d done nothing wrong.
    Had he sensed she was holding something back? God, she hoped not. The only thing he hadn’t asked her—yet—was to go to the precinct house and look through endless books of mug shots. She’d probably been spared that only because the intruder had worn a mask, and all she’d likely be able to identify was a pair of slitted brown eyes.
    As far as anyone had been able to determine, the intruder hadn’t targeted any of the exhibits. But he had knocked out and hog-tied a security guard. And there was evidence he’d searched two storage rooms. But oddly, nothing appeared to be missing.
    Then what was he looking for in the offices?
she wondered, as she fitted the first of her keys into its lock. Natalie stepped wearily inside and flicked on the light switch, awakening her tiny living room from sleep.
A private detective hired by Dennis’s wife wouldn’t have riffled through the storage rooms. And he wouldn’t have attacked a security guard—or me.
    She kicked off her shoes, resisting the urge to throw herself down on the overstuffed chintz sofa and simply close her eyes until morning. Instead, she padded across the wood floor to the galley kitchen, and removed the open bottle of Riesling from her fridge.
    Wineglass in hand, she made her way to the bathroom to toss bath salts into the claw-foot tub. As she turned the water on full blast and took her first sip of the Riesling, she thought she heard her phone ringing above the rush of water.
    With a sigh she hurried back to the kitchen and checked the number on the incoming call. She didn’t recognize it.
    â€œHello?” She took another grateful sip of the wine.
    â€œDr. Landau? This is Brandon Wedermeyer from MSNBC. I’m calling about your sister.”
    Natalie’s heart froze. “Yes?”
Oh, God.
“Is Dana alright?”
    Please, let her be all right.
    â€œI’m very sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I have some terrible news. I’m afraid your sister has died.”
    â€œDied . . .” Her voice trailed off. An icy chill stabbed through her stomach, and she suddenly felt weightless. “That’s