Concrete Evidence (8 page)

July 2011

Menanichoch, Maryland

E
RICA HAD INTENDED TO GO HOME
. She was tired and bothered by her reaction to Lee’s dinner invitation. She’d enjoyed the research and his company. He’d made her laugh. For the first time in a year—maybe more—she hadn’t felt alone. So why did the idea of dinner strike such fear in her? The answer was simple, the problem complex. She was scared of her attraction to him.

She’d paid dearly the last time she let attraction cloud her judgment.

She exited the beltway and headed to the reservation almost without thinking. She’d driven this road so many times. It was almost as if the casino were a siren, calling to her.

Each room of the Menanichoch Casino celebrated a different native culture. There was no Aztec Room, but a new room would be opening soon. She would bet all of her meager possessions the room would have an Aztec theme.

When the Aztec artifacts went on exhibition for the whole world to see, and it was too late for Sam Riversong—or whoever had purchased them—to hide them or alter them, she would use the photographs she’d taken of the excavation to prove they’d been found in the Manila galleon and not in some Spaniard’s attic. In Mexico, Jake would be charged with theft and smuggling. She smiled tightly and wondered how he would like being locked in a stinking Mexican jail cell.

In the parking lot, she rested her arms on the steering wheel and stared at the stylish casino. The building had presence—its own offbeat charisma. Before her stood a glass-and-metal structure that looked like a Frank Gehry design with modernized art deco touches that managed to incorporate a Native American aesthetic. The digital marquee screen said the progressive slot machine jackpot was up to ten million dollars. She checked the ashtray and came up with twenty-four cents—a penny shy of being able to try her luck. She scrabbled under the passenger seat and came up with four pennies.

It was time to make another attempt to find out when the artifacts would go on display. She opened a button on her blouse and smoothed her skirt as she entered the lobby. Cold air hit her in a frigid wave, and she took a deep breath of relief from the outside heat. Noise and lights from the gaming rooms carried across the foyer and assaulted her senses.

The foyer opened in three different directions: to the left was a corridor that led to the Inuit and Great Basin Rooms. Straight ahead was the Pueblo Room, and to the right was a grand archway currently hidden behind thick canvas and plastic, covering the entrance to the new addition, what she was certain would be the Aztec Room.

As usual, ceiling-mounted security cameras were trained on the canvas covering, but this was the first time a security guard was stationed at the opening. Did the security guard mean the artifacts were in the display cases? One thing was certain: with a guard in place, she wouldn’t be able to look behind the canvas tonight.

With twenty-eight cents burning a hole in her pocket, she headed to the Pueblo Room. The young bartender she’d been flirting with for the last two months worked on Tuesday nights, so she made her way to the bar on the far side of the room.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he said.

“Hi, Tommy.” She slid onto a barstool.

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up. I’ve got news for you on that manager job.”

Weeks ago she’d told him she was hoping to get the position of manager of archaeological collections, which would open up when the current manager went on maternity leave. “Are they getting ready to advertise?”

“No. Word is the current manager is going to quit once her baby is born. They’re looking for a permanent replacement.” He placed a white napkin with extra limes in front of her along with a tall mojito. “On me.”

“Thanks. You’re a sweetheart.” She tried to put as much flirt into her smile as she could, but the idea of flirting with him for information made her feel sleazy tonight.

Still, the end was in sight. All these months… She couldn’t let a moment of conscience destroy everything she’d worked for. “I hope I have the right experience. I’ve only worked with Meso-American collections. You know”—she paused and leaned closer—“it would help if I knew what the theme of the new room will be. Then I’ll know what to highlight on my résumé.”

Tommy looked around and whispered, “Do you want to see the room tonight?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Absolutely.”

He grinned. “I get a break in fifteen minutes. Meet me in the corridor that leads to the Great Basin Room, and I can get you in through the back way.” His expression told her exactly what the price of admission would be.

She’d brought this on herself by flirting with a young man she wasn’t interested in. This was wrong. She’d reached a new low.

“Riversong, I don’t care what your last name is. If you don’t restock the bar for the next shift again, you’re fired.”

Erica whirled around and saw one of the casino managers.

“I know,” Tommy said, bristling. The manager walked away, and Tommy flipped him off behind his back. “Jerk-off.”

“Riversong,” she murmured. “You’re related to the chairman?”

“He’s my uncle.”

She glanced around the room, seeing the lights of the slot machines, hearing the bells and chimes, but the details were a blur as she processed this information.

“Meet me in fifteen minutes?” he asked.

She picked up her drink and slid off the barstool. “I’ll be there.”

After trading her nickels and pennies for a quarter, she found an open classic-style slot machine. She dropped the coin in the slot.
If I win, it’s a sign I should go through with it. If I lose, I’ll just go home.

Three cherries came up. She leaned her head against the machine and closed her eyes. She’d won two dollars and fifty cents but feared she’d lost her last shred of self-respect.

“I guess we can have dinner together after all.”

Lee?
She spun around. “What the hell are you doing here?” Had he followed her? She shook her head. The idea was ridiculous. He had no reason to follow her. But still, she couldn’t quite let the suspicion go.

He loomed above her and placed his hand against the slot machine, hip cocked, looking all too casual and appealing. She’d enjoyed her day with him at the Archives more than any day at work since before she’d stepped aboard the
Andvari
. “I saw the exit for the reservation from the beltway and thought it would be fun to check out the casino. Why are
you
here?”

She scooped her winnings from the mouth of the machine and picked up her drink. “The food is cheap and the drinks even cheaper.” She took a large swallow. Liquid courage.

He touched her arm, then nodded toward the steak house. “Let’s get a bite to eat.”

“Sorry. I’ve got plans. See you tomorrow.” She walked away and took refuge in the ladies’ room. Coward that she was, she stayed there until it was time to meet Tommy.

She didn’t see Lee as she crossed the foyer and entered the wide hallway that led to the Great Basin Room. She waited next to a display of Menanichoch artifacts. The wall-mounted signs gave a detailed history of the Menanichoch tribe and reservation. She stared long and hard at a photo of Senator Joseph Talon with Sam Riversong. Tommy was late. Where was he?

At last, she heard footsteps behind her but didn’t turn. She felt hands at her waist. Tommy’s hands.
Close your eyes and think of England.
Lips pressed against the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes but didn’t think of England. Instead she thought of Lee.

Self-loathing slid up her spine. Like she’d told Jake a year ago, she wasn’t a whore. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what, Shortcake?”

She whirled to face Lee. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

“Do what?” he asked again.

She had to say
something
, but confessing that her intern’s kiss was welcome in a way that Tommy Riversong’s was not was a bad idea. A very bad idea. She found her voice. “Get involved with you,” she said and slipped out of his arms.

You are here to find the artifacts. Lee Scott is a distraction you don’t need.

She was halfway down the hall when an alarm sounded.
Oh God. They know why I’m here.
The thought was as irrational as the sharp jolt of fear that accompanied it. She really was losing her mind.

She reached the foyer as four security guards ran out of the Pueblo Room and headed in her direction. Without a second look, they passed her on their way out the front door. Her relief was short-lived as Lee came up beside her. His hand found the small of her back. He steered her toward the security guard stationed in front of the concealing canvas.

The guard muttered something into his headset, then listened.

“What’s going on?” Lee asked him.

“An employee was just found in the bushes outside. Looks like he was stabbed.”

Her stomach churned, but still, she had to know. “Who is it?”

“A bartender, Tommy Riversong.”

“Is he—will he be okay?”

“He’s dead.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

E
RICA ARRIVED IN THE WORKOUT
room at her usual time, determined to work and live as though the day were like any other. She stretched the same way. Kicked the bag with the same fury. Listened to the same music on her cheap MP3 player.

But nothing was the same. She’d told herself once she found the artifacts and Jake went to jail, her life would return to normal. But there was no going back. For her, there was no longer any such thing as normal.

A kid she’d flirted with for information had been murdered. Did his death have anything to do with her? What sort of world had she immersed herself in? She couldn’t live this life—or these lies—anymore.

She needed to tell Janice. Everything. She’d kept silent out of fear. Fear of being fired. Fear of Jake. Fear of Marco. She was done living in fear.

She kicked the bag, punctuation to her decision. She’d tell Janice. Today. This morning.

The door opened and Lee entered. He stood in the doorway, silent, his eyes questioning. He was so tall, so strong. So very masculine. At the Thermo-Con house and again at the archives he’d shown a rascal charm she found terribly appealing.

He’d unknowingly witnessed her shameful decision last night. But he’d also been the reason she’d decided not to go through with it. She hadn’t put him in his place when he’d kissed her neck, then Tommy…happened…and dealing with Lee’s inappropriate advance seemed petty. The police had questioned them separately. When her interview was over, she’d bolted rather than wait for Lee. She hadn’t wanted to face him then, and she didn’t want to talk to him now.

She turned up the volume on her music and faced the bag. In her peripheral vision, she saw him head to the free weights across the room. She shifted so her back was to him and finished her workout.

After showering, she reached their office ahead of Lee but knew he would be up shortly. A strange calm descended upon her as she dialed Janice’s extension. Soon it would all be behind her. Voice mail picked up, and Janice’s recorded message informed her that her boss had a meeting with a client in Virginia and would be in the office after eleven a.m. Dammit. She left a message telling Janice, “We need to talk. It’s urgent.”

Lee arrived. She murmured, “Good morning,” then turned her chair to face her computer. She had work to do.

She heard him setting up his laptop and tried to block him out of her mind. She opened the first of several cell tower reports she needed to finish and got to work. Prickling along the back of her neck alerted her to the fact that Lee stood directly behind her. Longing mixed with fear coursed through her, the same feeling she’d had last night when she realized it was Lee, not Tommy, who had kissed her.

She swiveled around and faced him. Might as well get this over with.

He half sat, half leaned against the worktable and studied her, his face showing his concern. “Did you sleep okay?” he finally said.

She cleared her throat around a sudden tightness. “No. You?”

He shook his head. “I barely slept at all.” He paused. “You were waiting for Tommy Riversong in the hallway.”

It was a statement, but she knew he wanted an answer. She shrugged. Last night she’d told the police the truth—mostly—and after she talked to Janice, what she told Lee would no longer matter. “He asked me to meet him.”

“Why did you agree to meet a twenty-two-year-old drug dealer?”

“He was only twenty-two?” Jesus, he was just a boy. And now he was dead.

“Yes. Why were you meeting him?”

“I didn’t know he was a drug dealer.” She looked at him sharply. “Who told you that?”

“My family is connected. They asked questions and got answers. Tommy Riversong was a punk, a low-level drug dealer. He’d been arrested several times and pleaded no contest to a drug charge three years ago. After his probation ended, he got the job at the casino.”

“But he didn’t stop dealing,” she said.

“It doesn’t look like he did. My understanding is there were drugs on him. He was probably killed in a deal gone bad.”