Duty Bound Guardian

Someone had broken into the museum, hit Lana on the head and knocked her unconscious. Her wound was not self-inflicted. She claimed the attacker used the arrow. But the CSU tech found no blood on the artifact. Only Lana’s fingerprint.

“Recheck the thing for blood,” David directed the tech.

“Okay, but I’m telling you, there isn’t any.” Reclaiming the arrow, the tech walked away to reexamine the piece.

Adam’s gaze zeroed in on Lana. Even across the room, her fatigue was evident in the way she rubbed at her neck as if to massage away a knot. She finished giving her statement to the officer and slowly made her way to Adam’s side. She stared at the broken glass littering the floor, her arms wrapped around her middle.

She lifted her eyes and met his gaze. The bruising beneath the edges of the bandage covering her lovely face clutched at him and he fought to keep from running his hands over her arms to soothe away her upset.

Ace moved to her side and leaned into her so that Lana’s long, tapered fingers could rub the sweet spot behind his ears.

Normally his partner was reticent to let others touch him. By nature Dobermans were energetic and could be friendly when they were comfortable. But Ace was also fierce and loyal and intimidating, especially when working.

Most of the time, people were too nervous to broach petting the dog, let alone the dog allowing attention from strangers. Adam wasn’t even sure Lana realized what she was doing or how unique it was for Ace to seek out her touch. By the way Ace’s eyes rolled in his head the dog obviously enjoyed the contact.

“Ace, heel.”

The dog jumped to attention, sitting at Adam’s side, his ears perked up and his eyes on his master. That was more like it.

“Don’t be angry with him.” Lana’s softly spoken words hit Adam square in the chest. “He’s a good dog.”

“Yes, he is, but we’re working now.”

David cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Miss Gomez, can you walk us through what happened last night?”

“I just told everything to your officer.”

When David didn’t respond, she glanced at Adam as if looking for support.

He nodded, encouraging her to retell her story. He wanted to hear her version again. Would she stick to her claim the suspect had hit her with the arrow?

She let out a soft, delicate sigh full of resignation. “I was in my office working.” She pointed to the hallway behind them. “I heard a thud then glass breaking. I thought maybe Brad had slipped and fallen. I came out and saw the man dressed in white reaching for the arrow.”

Adam visualized the event unfolding. Most people would have fled in search of a phone to call for help. “How did you try to stop him?”

She licked her lips. He tracked the movement as awareness zipped through him, setting his senses on fire. Not good. Not good at all. He had a cardinal rule to never become emotionally involved in a case; doing so impaired one’s judgment.

He jerked his gaze back to Lana’s eyes in time to see a flare of interest in the dark depths, but then the flame was gone so fast he wouldn’t have been able to stand in court and swear he’d seen the look. Must have been a trick of the lighting inside the museum. Or maybe a stray sunbeam from the overhead skylight. But that couldn’t be since it was raining. He gave himself a mental shake to clear his thoughts and refocused on her words.

“I attacked him. I’ve been taking mixed martial arts classes.”

He dropped his chin and stared at her. He wasn’t sure if she was crazy or brave. Or both. That was the problem with self-defense classes in a gym. People tended to think when the time came they’d be prepared to act, but reality never followed the patterns learned in a studio class. Especially when it came to offensive moves. “You could have been killed.”

She made a face. “I reacted before I really considered what I was doing.”

He hadn’t pegged her as impulsive.

“Were you the last one to handle the arrow before the break-in?” David asked.

“Handle?” She canted her head. “Yes, I suppose. I’m the one who placed the artifact in the display case earlier this week before the glass barrier was sealed, if that’s what you mean.”

“You told me the intruder hit you with the arrow, isn’t that correct?” Adam watched her closely.

“Yes, that’s right.”

Sharing a dubious glance with David, Adam stated, “There was no blood found on the arrow. Only your prints.”

“What?” Her stunned gaze bounced between him and David. She took a step back. Ace rose to all fours, alert to her obvious tension. Adam gave him a hand signal to sit. Slowly, Ace sat but his gaze stayed intently focused on Lana.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Her voice held a quiver of uncertainty. “He had the arrow in his hand. He used it to hit me and knocked me unconscious.”

“Did the man have gloves on?” David asked.

She blinked. “Yes, he did. White gloves that matched his clothes.”

Her version of the event wasn’t lining up with the facts. Hopefully, the security guard would shed some light on the murky situation.

“Can I speak with Brad?” she asked.

David gave a sharp nod. “This way.”

Adam tugged on Ace’s lead when the dog wouldn’t leave Lana’s side.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” she asked before he had taken two steps.

“I’m reserving judgment,” he offered. It would be bad police work to let her in on what he was thinking.

There was no mistaking the hurt in her expression as she walked past him down the same hall in which David had disappeared. She was much easier to read today than the first time they’d met, but even so, Adam wasn’t sure what to make of her story. The woman was an enigma. Calm and collected to the point of unemotional one minute, then impulsive and expressive the next.

At the end of the hall, Lana headed through an open door. “Brad, I was so worried about you!”

Adam stepped inside, stopping next to David to watch Lana hug a white-haired man of at least seventy and wearing a red uniform with the museum emblem on the breast pocket.

The man patted her back awkwardly. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“I am.” She pulled back.

Brad grimaced. “Your poor head.”

David stepped forward and made the introductions. “Brad Givens, this is Officer Donovan, with the Capitol K-9 Unit. He’ll be working with the DC police on the investigation.”

Lana slipped out of the way. The guard nodded and extended his hand.

After shaking Brad’s hand, Adam asked, “Did you get a look at the guy, hear anything that might give a clue what he was after?”

“Show Officer Donovan the security video,” David instructed.

Adam arched an eyebrow at David. Apparently the answer to Adam’s question would appear on the video feed.

Brad sat in front of a blank monitor on the table, pressed a few keys and the screen sprang to life.

The images on the display showed Brad stroll into view, apparently doing his rounds. A moment later a figure, dressed all in white and wearing aviator-style sunglasses, just as Lana had described, stepped out of the wall behind Brad. A convincing optical illusion.

The choke hold he used on the unsuspecting guard had been efficient, practiced, lending support to Adam’s earlier thought that the intruder had been trained. Military? Law enforcement? Or a garden-variety thug with skills?

Once the guard was down, the intruder ripped the cord on the security camera and the screen went black.

Brad swiveled in his chair to face Adam. “As you saw in humiliating Technicolor, the guy took me down, quick and easy.” Bitter anger reverberated in Brad’s voice. “He was strong and big and knew what he was doing. He disabled all the cameras. When I came to, my first thought was for Miss Gomez. She’s the sweetest lady.”

Brad’s jaw tightened as he continued. “When I saw her laying on the ground all bloodied I...” His voice cracked with emotion. “I thought she was dead.” He visibly collected himself and glanced toward the door with a smile. “Thankfully I was wrong.”

Lana had been hit and knocked out. But what happened in those moments while they were both unconscious? What had the intruder been after?

Lana shimmied past Adam to take Brad’s hand.

“Did you see the intruder after you awoke?” Adam couldn’t picture how the perp got away without being seen if the guard had come from the direction of the museum entrance where he’d pulled the alarm.

Brad gave a negative shake of his head. “No. I saw Miss Gomez and I ran for the alarm.”

Had the guard spooked the perp, forcing him to blend back into the walls to wait until the coast was clear and he could take the arrow? Adam turned to David. “Have you searched the whole premises?”

David gave him a keen look. “I had that same thought. We searched and found an open window in the employee break room and the main storage room’s back door was unlocked. The intruder is gone. No way to tell which was the point of entrance or exit.”

What had caused the assailant to leave the arrow behind?

A commotion in the outer body of the museum drew Ace’s attention. The dog barked to alert Adam. “I hear it, boy. Let’s go see what all the racket is about.”

They all filed out of the security office and hurried to the main hall. A rotund middle-aged man wearing a suit that appeared haphazardly donned stood mopping his brow with a white handkerchief. His wet shoes tracked dirt across the gleaming floor to where an officer had the man corralled a few paces away from the empty display.

“Sir, you have to stay back,” the officer said.

“Who would do this?” the man demanded.

David gave the officer a nod, allowing the younger officer to step away. “Sir, I’m Detective Delvecchio. This is Officer Donovan. You are?”

Curious, Adam stepped forward. Ace sniffed the man, then lost interest and sat.

“My name is Fred Floyd, I’m the head curator of the museum.” He shifted his feet, his agitation clear in the hike of his shoulders and the red flush to his round face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Lana rushed forward. “Mr. Floyd, I’m so sorry you had to come home from your vacation.”

The man blinked at her. “You’re hurt.”

She waved away his concern. “It’s nothing. The thief got away, but didn’t take anything.”

Relief seemed to deflate Fred. His shoulders sagged, his chin dipped to his chest. “Wonderful news.”

“Has there been trouble here before?” Adam asked. “Other break-ins?”

“No break-ins.” Fred lifted his head. “We paid a mighty steep price for the security system that seems to have failed.” His eyebrows pinched together as he threw a furtive glance at Lana. “She has had some personal issues. The police were called, but I stay out of my employees’ business.”

Lana let out a small gasp.

Adam raised his eyebrows at her. “What trouble?” Could this have anything to do with the break-in? With Rosa’s murder? Michael Jeffries’s?

“My ex-husband. It was handled.”

Fred’s gaze shifted to the destroyed display case. “At least the Golden Arrow is safe. Where is it?”

“The crime scene techs have it,” David answered.

Fred’s mouth twisted. “Please tell your people to be careful. It is old and very fragile.”

“They are being very careful,” David assured him. “Mr. Floyd, we’ll need you to inventory the museum to be sure that nothing is missing. I will also require a list of employees and their contact info.”

Adam wanted to see that list, as well.

Fred nodded vigorously. “Of course. Whatever I can do to help you find the person who did this.”

David tipped his chin at the crime scene tech making his way toward them. “Ah, here’s the arrow.”

Adam and Ace moved out of the way so the tech could hand Floyd the artifact. Once Floyd had the arrow in his hands, his frown deepened. He inspected all aspects of the gold piece.

Vehemently shaking his head, he held the arrow out like a deadly snake about to strike. “This is a fake. A collectible that we sell in the gift shop.” He pointed to a stamped imprint on the fletching. “See?”

Adam’s gaze swung to Lana. She’d turned a sickly shade of green. Her hand went to her mouth. Panic flared in her eyes. “If that’s a fake, then the intruder got away with the real one.”

* * *

Lana’s throat constricted. Her lungs burned as oxygen refused to enter or leave. Her mind rebelled at what she’d just heard. The arrow had been stolen. A fake one put in its place.

With her prints on it.

She needed to sit before her legs gave out beneath her. She stumbled to the cushioned bench next to a wooden replica of the rowboat that brought General George Washington across the Delaware.

Breathe, she commanded herself. She gulped in air. This couldn’t be happening.

She bent forward and put her head on her knees, hoping to stop the room from spinning. Please, dear Heavenly Father...I don’t know what to do here. I need You.

Would this turn of events prevent her from gaining custody of her nephew? Poor Juan. Her heart ached for the little orphaned boy.

Two black-booted feet appeared in her line of vision. Then a wet nose nudged the side of her face. Ace. She wanted to slip her arms around the beast and take the comfort he offered but she had a feeling Adam would not be pleased. He hadn’t been happy when the dog wanted her to pet him. Hugging the animal would probably send the officer into a seizure.

A hysterical laugh gurgled in her chest. She bit the inside of her cheek to contain it. The last thing she wanted to do was give Adam any more ammunition to think she was guilty. Acting crazy would surely put her high on his list of suspects. It already looked bad with her prints on the fake arrow that had been placed in the display case.

“How do you suppose your prints found their way to the bogus relic?” Adam’s rich voice invaded her head, giving voice to her thoughts.

She straightened. The assessing way he stared at her made her want to squirm. She lifted her chin and stared back. “I don’t know. I was unconscious.” She flinched at the hard suspicion filling his blue eyes. “You have to believe me. I didn’t have anything to do with the theft.”

He examined her face, and she wasn’t sure what he searched for. But she hoped he saw her innocence. Acid burned in her stomach. Her blood ran cold. “Why would someone want to frame me for stealing the Golden Arrow after they knocked me out?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s a good question. If you aren’t involved, then someone sure has gone to a lot of trouble trying to make it appear as if you were. Who has a grudge against you?”

“The only person I can think of is my ex-husband.” But that didn’t make sense. Mark pressed her to return to him, claiming he loved her and would behave better if she only gave him a second chance. He wouldn’t do something like this. He wanted her under his control, not in jail. There had to be another explanation.

“Tell me about him.”

She swallowed the shame rising up to choke her. She didn’t want to delve into her past with this man. But he was an officer of the law and if she refused to open up he’d assume she was hiding something. “You already know I have a civil protection order against my ex-husband.”

Adam gave a short nod.

“Before I took out the order, Mark showed up here drunk and made a scene. The police had to be called. They made him go away. That incident prompted me to file for the protection order.”

Adam’s lips pressed together. “Do we have permission to search your office?”

The abrupt question jarred her. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Good. Then there should be nothing for us to find.” After instructing a guard to watch her, Adam led Ace away.

Should she follow him? Part of her wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. But the part of her that had fueled her determination to make something good out of her life wouldn’t allow her to sit idly by while everything she’d worked so hard for was being torn apart.

She scrambled off the bench and rushed down the hall. No way was she going to sit around as if she were guilty. She had Juan to think about now. Not just herself.

* * *

Adam entered Lana’s office, assessing the space. The desk was cluttered with stacks of paper and pens. Behind the desk sat a bookcase filled with leather-bound books. A wilting fern in a brightly painted pot sat on top of a file cabinet in the corner. The lack of a window gave the room a cave-like feel.

A laptop sat precariously close to the edge of the desk as if Lana had pushed it aside to clear space on the desktop to work. A printer was on a small credenza next to the bookshelf. Two framed certificates hung on the wall next to the door, placed so that when she looked up from working she’d see the testament to her schooling. No personal pictures, nothing to indicate Lana had a life outside the museum.

The lack of personal touches acutely reminded him of the first time he’d met Lana and the coldness he’d seen in her eyes upon learning of her sister’s murder. Lana had clammed up tight then and in the hospital when he’d probed into what she knew of her sister’s life and what had led to their estrangement.

“Look through everything,” he said to the officers filing in behind him. David had consented to Adam taking over this part of the investigation while the detective dealt with Mr. Floyd.

Donning protective gloves, Adam rounded the desk and pushed back the chair, intending to sit. The chair leg caught on the strap of a duffel bag. He bent down to unhook the wheel, then lifted the bag to place it on the seat. Carefully, he drew the zipper back.

Inside were stacks of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.

His breath lurched.

“Let me in! It’s my office.”

Lana’s voice echoed inside Adam’s head. “Let her enter.” He closed the bag and handed it off to an officer. “Have that dusted for prints.”

The officer nodded and exited past Lana.

She stood to the side of the door watching him with wary eyes. “What was that?”

“You tell me.”

Her brows pinched together. “I’ve never seen that bag before.”

He pushed the chair back in. “I found the duffel hidden beneath your desk.”

She blinked rapidly. “I didn’t put it there.”

“Aren’t you curious what’s inside?” Or did she already know?

She blew out a breath full of derision. “I’m sure you’re dying to tell me.”

He arched an eyebrow. Add spunky to the list of attributes he was accumulating and attaching to her. “Money. By the looks of it thousands of dollars.”

Her mouth dropped open then closed. She licked her lips. This time he refused to be distracted.

“It’s not mine!” she finally managed to say in a voice full of fire that belied the coldness settling in her eyes, making them turn from dark brown to obsidian.

“You’ve petitioned the court for custody of your nephew.”

“Yes. Though now...” Anguish danced across her face before quickly disappearing as her expression froze into bland neutrality.

He recognized the look. The same one she’d had when she’d heard of her sister’s death. Interesting. “It must have been expensive to hire a lawyer.”

For a brief moment, dark eyes flashed with challenge before turning to stone. “I used my savings.”

“You live in a nice apartment building in Georgetown. That must cost you a pretty penny.”

“Not really. I went to school with the daughter of the family that owns the building. My rent is reasonable considering what they could charge for it. Why are you asking me this? Shouldn’t you be out looking for the man who stole the Golden Arrow?”

“You’re having money issues. A good motive for theft.”

Her hands fisted at her sides. “Things are tight, but that doesn’t make me a thief.”

He came to stand in front of her, invading her space, crowding her back until she bumped against the wall. Her eyes widened. The fear flashing in her gaze grabbed him by the heart and squeezed. He hated scaring her, but intimidation was a useful part of the job. A part he’d never had trouble with before now.

He planted a hand on the wall next to her head to keep from tucking a stray strand of silky hair behind her ear. “So here’s what I think happened.” His voice dipped, coming out huskier than he’d intended. But then again, his heart was beating fast and his blood thrumming. Her perfume filled his head, soft and alluring. He struggled to maintain detachment.

“You’re trying to adopt your nephew, but the court costs and the lawyer have tapped out your savings. You have this item worth big bucks and you’re approached with a deal. Switch out the real arrow for the fake and receive a large lump of cash in exchange. Only at the last second your partner double-crosses you.” The words stuck in his throat. “He knocks you over the head, takes the arrow and leaves you to take the rap.”

The color drained from her face, making her olive skin appear pasty. “No. No. That didn’t happen. I didn’t have anything to do with the theft. Why would I jeopardize my career, my chances of gaining custody of Juan? I wouldn’t do that.”

Ace nudged Adam in the thigh. He straightened and stepped back, needing the space. Needing to grab hold of his judgment, his senses and bring them back under control. “The bag of money and your fingerprints on the fake arrow are pretty compelling.”

“I thought a person was innocent until proven guilty.” She took a shuddering breath and pushed away from the wall. The ice in her expression could have frozen the Potomac. “I’m being set up.”

The circumstantial evidence pointed at Lana as a coconspirator. Yet, she made a good argument. Yes, she could use extra cash, who couldn’t, but she had a good career and was going through the process to gain custody of her nephew. If she were going to steal from her employer, why wouldn’t she wait until she had custody of the boy? Maybe she planned to kidnap Juan and flee with the cash from the museum heist?

But that thought didn’t ring true. If she and an accomplice were going to go to the trouble of pulling off a robbery at the museum, why only take one thing?

According to the time stamp of the video of when the guard was rendered unconscious and the moment the thief opened the break-room window, he’d have had time to steal several other easily transportable artifacts. What had he been doing during those few minutes?

Placing Lana’s fingerprints on the fake arrow. Planting a bag of cash in her office.

Okay, that was a plausible scenario, creating enough doubt for him to wonder if her presence in the museum had truly been unexpected. Had framing her been a spur-of-the-moment decision? Was the theft random and had nothing to do with their open cases?

So many questions with no ready answers. Too many variables to make a coherent theory.

It all came down to this woman who appeared genuinely upset by the theft. Or was she a good actress?

“Is silence a tactic you use to break your suspects?” she asked, her gaze meeting his.

“Who would want to steal the Golden Arrow?”

She blinked. “Plenty of people. The artifact is not only valuable, but a piece of history.”

As if that would be enough reason for the theft. Her passion for her career was evident. And in different circumstances admirable.

His phone trilled from his breast pocket. Captain McCord calling. “Ace, watch her.”

Adam stepped into the hall. He quickly filled his captain in. “She claims she’s innocent of theft and doesn’t know anything about the money. She thinks she’s being set up.”

“Hmm. What does your gut tell you?”

Adam stared at the wall, turning the question over in his head. He was loath to conjecture. He preferred to have all the answers laid out in a tidy row. Most of the time the cases he worked were resolved with Ace at the forefront.

Tracking a suspect down, like in the drug case they’d just closed. That had been all Ace. Adam had just been along for the backup. Adam relied on Ace’s gut more than his own these days. McCord knew that. McCord knew what haunted Adam and looked for opportunities to force him to rely on his own judgment.