Mind Sweeper (26 page)

“What does it say?” Dalton asked.

“Sorry, there isn’t much in it. Cowell arrived in Rome and met the priest he stayed with. He was excited about being at the Vatican. I’ll open another one.”

“How many are there?” Dalton asked.

“A dozen or so.”

“When you get to the good stuff, read it to me.”

“Okay, Mr. Impatient, give me a couple of minutes.” I skimmed the letters while Dalton drove. The next six were the same as the first, just general info about his travels. In the eighth letter he had arrived in Turkey. “All right, here is the info Father Brown referred to. Let me read you part of it.

“‘
I met some young U.S. students working an archeological dig. When I told them I was a priest and a religious historian, they asked me to visit their site. Apparently, there is some indication there may be religious artifacts they are close to unearthing. They would like my opinion on the relics
.’” I read the rest of the letter to Dalton, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The ninth letter had more specifics on the site.

“‘
I have been at the dig site for the last two days. There have been some interesting artifacts unearthed, but none hold any real religious significance. Today, they hope to work in the area where they speculate several are located. I must admit, I am as excited as these young people. Their enthusiasm is contagious
.’” I read down through the rest of the letter, but there was nothing else of real interest.

As I was folding the letter and placing it back in the envelope, we pulled into the office parking garage. “These others can wait until we get upstairs. It may help distract Misha and Jean Luc from going on and on about what happened this morning.”

Dalton cringed. “What do you think we’re up against?”

I shrugged. “It could go either way. They might act like clucking grandmothers, which means you’ll be safe and they’ll suffocate me. Or they may act like overprotective big brothers—”

Dalton interrupted. “Which means I’m in trouble.”

“Yep.” We got out of the car, and when the elevator doors opened, we stepped in and I hit the button for the third floor. The moment the doors closed, Dalton yanked me into his arms. My mouth opened in shock and he took full advantage. I leaned in, and he wrapped his large hands around my waist, pulling me closer. Thank God the elevator was as slow as a Sigmut slug demon. My heart pounded, and we accomplished some decent tongue Olympics before the trip was over.

The bell dinged and we reluctantly broke apart. “What was that for?” I gasped.

“A thank you for last night. No matter what happens with Misha and Jean Luc, you are amazing.”

A surge of heat rushed up my neck onto my face, an honest-to-goodness full-face blush
. Damn.
“Don’t get all mushy on me, Dalton.”

We walked down the hall and opened the office door. Dolly was sitting at the front desk and, from the wicked grin on her face, it was obvious she knew what had happened. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she’d been listening in on the call this morning.

“Good morning, you two. Sleep well?”

I smiled wickedly. “Like the dead. I always sleep well after strenuous exercise.”

Dolly chuckled. Dalton shook his head and kept walking. After he made it through the door into the back office, Dolly held up her hand in a high-five gesture. I smacked it. “I’m proud of you, Kyle. He’s fine for a human. Next time don’t wait so long, or I might have to step in.”

“I’ll remember that.” I headed toward the back, but Dolly stopped me.

“I know humans are all weird about discussing sex, so I won’t ask the specifics, but at least tell me if it was good.”

“My toes haven’t uncurled yet.” She was still laughing when I walked through the door. Apparently a little office sex and I was Dolly’s new best friend. Who knew that was all it would take?

I peered around the back office cautiously, not knowing what to expect. Dalton was at the coffee pot. Jean Luc and Misha were nowhere to be seen. Dalton handed me a mug of coffee and I raised my eyebrows in a silent question. He shrugged. It was too quiet.

We both jumped when Misha walked into the room. He smiled and grabbed me, somehow avoiding spilling my coffee. He then kissed me on both cheeks. “I am so happy for you both.”

So Misha was going to play my gushing grandmother in this scenario. Dalton let out a relieved sigh, until Misha grabbed him, too, and planted kisses on both his cheeks. I stifled a laugh when Dalton’s mouth fell open and his eyes bugged out.

Misha plowed ahead. “You must tell me about last night. I’m curious about human sexual practices.”

Dear God in heaven. He went there. I glared at him. “Misha!
So
not appropriate. Where’s Jean Luc?”

He had the nerve to grin. “He’ll be here in a minute. We’ve been trying to track down Jason Watson, but haven’t had any luck so far. He appears to have gone underground.”

“Have you been able to access his military record?” I asked.

Dalton’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you have access to military computers too?”

Misha preened. “We have supes in the military who help us when we need it.”

I nodded. “And to think, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ was the only thing the military used to worry about. I think they were asking the wrong questions.”

Before I could get a rise out of Dalton, Jean Luc came into the room. His manner was not as exuberant as Misha’s. I stared at him cautiously. Dalton was doing the same.

Misha jumped in, oblivious. “I was just updating Kyle and Joe.”

Dalton filled them in on our visit with Father Brown. In the meantime, I set the letters on the table, opened letter ten and scanned it. I did the same for the next. When the rattling of the letters became the loudest sound in the room, I realized they had stopped talking. I looked up into three expectant faces.

“Not much here in the first letter. He mentions that the project benefactors were going to visit the site in the next few days, but he doesn’t say anything about examining religious artifacts. The second letter is much more interesting, listen to this:

“‘
There was some excitement today. An intact clay vase was unearthed. We believe from the markings that it was used as a religious vessel. The expedition sponsors arrived today, just in time to see the vase. It couldn’t have been timed more perfectly. Two of the men were ecstatic. But the third man was more reserved. I asked one of the students about him later, and he said they knew little about him. His name is Joseph Small. He is not affiliated with the university, but appears to be funding the dig. From the look on his face, I’d say he expected to find more than a religious vase
.’”

I stopped for a second and skimmed the rest of the letter. “Here’s something else. ‘
I spoke with the mysterious Mr. Small. He did not seem very receptive until I introduced myself and he realized I was a priest. He asked me several pointed questions about God and my faith. At first I thought he might be an atheist, but he did not seem to doubt the existence of God, rather he was not impressed by it, if that makes any sense. To be honest, the conversation unsettled me a bit, but I am used to speaking with men of science who do not have room for God in their lives. I will sign off now. I am staying late at the site tonight. They are going to dig overnight while the benefactors are here
.’”

I reached for another letter and opened it. Right away, I could tell the tone had changed. “The letter is only a short paragraph, listen to this. ‘
Father, I have decided to move on from Turkey. I was not of much help to the dig, and I have other places I would like to see before I return home. I will write again once I have settled in a new spot
.’” I set the letter down. “That’s a change. He was so excited to be at the dig and now he leaves with no mention of what else was found.”

Dalton piped up. “How many more letters are there?”

“Two.” I opened one and handed him the other. I scanned the letter. “This one is only a few lines as well. No more mention of the site. Actually, there is not much mention of anything at all. Just that he arrived in Switzerland and would be touring the Alps before returning home.”

Dalton spoke up. “The last letter is only a couple of lines, too. Talks about cutting his trip short and returning to the states. Misha, can you research the dig and this Joseph Small he mentioned?”

“I’ll start now.”

I turned to Jean Luc. “Have you come up with anything to keep Sebastian from coming after me?”

He scowled. “I have some ideas, but nothing I want to share yet.”

“I have to go home some time.”

“Since you and Joe appear to be getting along quite well, why not stay with him until we can rectify this?”

“And when will that be?”

Jean Luc studied me for a second. “I do not know.”

Dalton jumped in. “I think we need to go to Chicago and find out more about Hampton’s first victim, Jonathan Brubaker. The case notes have some basic information about him, but the cops in Chicago would not have known what questions to ask. We can fly there today and stay overnight. It will give Jean Luc more time to figure out what to do.”

At least we were doing something. “Fine. Misha, can you book us two tickets to Chicago and a hotel?”

“Already on it.”

“And can you go to my apartment tonight and feed Booger?”

Misha frowned. “That cat doesn’t like me.”

“Please?”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Jean Luc nodded and headed toward his office. I followed him into the room. “What’s up with you?”

He sat down. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you being so quiet? Are you pissed about Dalton and me? You were the one who threw us into a closet, for God’s sake!”

“I am pleased for you both. I did not want to embarrass you in front of Dalton by talking about it, but I have never seen you look happier.”

My face began to burn again. “Stop.”

He smiled. “I will never understand humans’ reluctance to show emotions.”

I laughed. “This from the vamp who never lets anything get to him.”

“I wish that were the case all the time.”

“Sebastian has you worried for real, doesn’t he?”

His smile vanished. “Yes. I am unsure of his plans. I will not let him get to you, Kyle.”

“I know.”

“Perhaps your trip will provide us with helpful information regarding this case. Try to have some fun, too.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure out something fun to do…”

Chapter 27

It was a good thing I didn’t have Stanley with me. The honking car behind us was getting on my nerves, and I was entertaining myself with a fantasy of taking out the headlights in two clean shots. We were inching along the Kennedy. I had wisely suggested Dalton drive when we landed in Chicago. Even though I loved visiting the city, I hated driving in it. Low patience threshold and ridiculous rush hour traffic did not mix.

The car honked again. Where did he think we were going to go? We weren’t in a flippin’ hover car.

“Where to first?” I muttered.

“I’m going to get off at the next exit and take the back way to Brubaker’s apartment. His roommate is home from classes today. He’s a graduate student at Loyola. Depending on time, we’ll either hit Brubaker’s law office today or tomorrow morning.”

“You seem to know your way around Chicago.”

“I used to come here a lot a few years ago.”

“For work?”

“My girlfriend at the time moved here.”

“Oh.”

He glanced at me. “Don’t worry, it’s been over for a while.”

“I’m not worried.” At least my outside voice sounded calm. My inside warning bells were clanging loudly.

We arrived at the apartment building thirty minutes later. When we reached the third floor, Dalton knocked on 3A. After a minute, the door opened and a tall, gangly man in a T-shirt and jogging pants greeted us.

“Carl?” Dalton asked.

“Yes.”

“I spoke to you on the phone. I’m Lieutenant Joe Dalton from the Cleveland Police Department, and this is my colleague Ms. Smith, may we come in?”

Carl stepped back and held open the door. The apartment was bigger than I expected. A table piled high with books sat next to a large, open window overlooking the park across the street.

“This is nice,” I said.

“Thanks. Jonathan picked it out.”

“I’m sorry about Jonathan.”

He flinched slightly. “Thank you.”

Dalton stepped up and took over. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“If it will help find Jonathan’s killer.” He motioned us toward the living room.

Dalton and Carl sat on the couch, but I walked over to the fireplace to check out the photographs. From the case notes, I recognized Jonathan in some of the photos. He was a large man with an infectious smile. What a waste.

Dalton started his questioning. “How long have you known Jonathan?”

“We were paired up as roommates our freshman year, and we hit it off. We lived together until he died.”