Reluctant Runaway (7 page)

Max was going home today. Without her! What had she been thinking?

Okay, so it was a good idea for Max to take Adam and do a Houdini. But Desi’s synapses hadn’t been firing on all cylinders when she volunteered to visit with a media minister and a motorcycle thug on her own. Talk about opposite walks of life.

She closed her eyes. Another round with Jabba the Hutt didn’t sound too bad.

“Psst! You awake?”

Desi looked over at Max, who propped herself up on one elbow.

“Go home with me. You don’t have to interview people about some cockamamie spin-off on Christianity And you sure don’t need to talk to some dude named Snake.” Max wrinkled her nose. “If we can dig into Ham Gordon from the Internet, we can research this Inner Witness thing the same way … from Boston.”

Desi laughed. “Thanks, Max. You clarified my need to stick around. We don’t rely on Internet research when we work with a client. We do personal interviews.”

“You’re not working for a client.”

“Sure am. You and your family. But I’m not requiring a contract or a fee.”

Max put her bare feet on the braided rug. “Stubborn woman.” She stretched.

Desi rolled out of bed. “I’ve had to learn to stand my ground against a certain smart-mouthed Texan.”

“Oh, hardy-har-har.” Max chucked her pillow.

Desi grabbed the soft mound and flung it back.

Max lunged to her feet. “Pillow fight!”

Laughing, Desi put her arm up, and a pillow whomped her shoulder.

“Hey! You two are having way too much fun in my house.” Jo stood in the doorway, smiling. “I’ve got breakfast ready. And we need to talk over these plans of yours.”

Desi changed out of her pajamas into business-casual pants and top and then ran a brush through her hair. Max threw on jeans and a T-shirt.

“On to the grub.” She led the way into the great room.

Desi ran a stockinged foot across the cool floor. “Your sister has beautiful tile work. And these mosaics on the walls.” She touched a star made out of tile chips that repeated itself at hip height around the perimeter of the room. “Gorgeous. Mexican influence.”

“Anything Hispanic is common in Albuquerque, but Jo did the mosaics. She’s quite the artist. Commissioned work, nothing commercial.”

“Really! Maybe she’ll do a piece for me.”

Max laughed. “Always on the lookout for choice art.”

“You got it. I had no idea you had an artist in the family.” Desi sniffed. “Jo could make a living as a cook, too. Let me guess. Tex-Mex omelets like you make.”

“Yeah. But Jo’s may have more zing than you’re used to.”

“My taste buds are revving up already.”

They sat at the trestle table, and Desi watched Jo slide omelets onto plates at the counter. The woman glanced up, but said nothing. Still looking peaked. But then, her daughter was still missing.

Desi’s gaze strayed to the black pockmarks that peppered a mosaic on the far wall. No wonder Pete knew Jo meant business.

His stated purpose for coming after the baby had a noble ring, but was he serious about Adam being in danger or just taking
advantage of circumstances for his personal agenda? Why did he think Adam might be a target? Easy to claim “the spirits told me.” More likely he had indications from natural sources.

Did that mean he knew what led to Karen’s disappearance? If so, why didn’t he give the information to the authorities? Or maybe he had Karen and was trying to get his hands on his grandson, too. But if he took Karen, why didn’t he grab Adam at the same time? Mother and child were alone in the house at the time of the disappearance.

Way too many unanswered questions, and only one way to get answers: Ask!

“Earth to Desi.” Max’s fingers snapped in front of her face.

Desi looked up. “Just thinking.”

Jo set plates of steaming eggs laced with ham, cheese, and peppers before them. “Want to share those thoughts?” She sat down.

“I need to ask questions about all these interesting characters that keep popping up in this mess—your ex-husband, this Snake fellow, and the Reverend Archer Romlin.”

Jo frowned. “Reverend Romlin doesn’t belong in the same group as those other two.”

Defensive reaction. Interesting. Desi smiled and picked up her fork. “Everything’s on hold until after I eat this.” Her stomach growled. “Pass the salsa.”

Fifteen minutes later, she laid her fork on the empty plate. “Okay Q & A time. Are you up for it, Jo?”

The woman wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think you or Max should get involved.” She glanced at her sister. “I mean, it’s enough that you’re willing to take Adam for a while.” She turned toward Desi. “You should go with her. I do want my daughter back, but I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

Desi laughed. “Max said sort of the same thing this morning.
Is this a reverse psychology ploy? Because the more you try to talk me out of it, the more I think I need to chat with some people. Maybe find out things they wouldn’t tell a cop.”

Jo shook her head. “You haven’t heard then? It was on the news last night.”

Max sat forward. “We went to bed before the news came on. What happened?”

“The guard that was injured in the robbery went into convulsions and died.”

Desi rocked back, breath leaving her lungs. “That’s awful.”

“Head wounds can be that way sometimes.” Max shook her head.

Desi looked from one woman to the other. “The death escalates the seriousness of the museum theft. Anyone involved could be looking at murder charges.”

Jo’s face quivered. “I know, but I don’t want to think about it. Karen can’t be a part of this. She wouldn’t!”

Desi glanced away A few months ago, she would have sworn that her father would never be mixed up in a theft ring, yet he was. But for reasons no one would have guessed in a gazillion years. Maybe Karen had good reasons, too. Or maybe her disappearance was unconnected to the theft. No one had proven anything. Maybe it was time someone did.

Was she supposed to be that someone?

Tony would pull an ogre face. Max and Jo thought so one minute, then wanted to hang back the next. She’d put the brakes on, too, but the more she learned about Karen, the more something tugged at her to find the girl. Overwrought emotions or a prompting from the Holy Spirit? Whatever the Reverend Romlin taught on the subject—and she intended to look into that—God
did
often lead by an inner witness. A red-light/green-light knowing in the heart.

She’d take a few cautious steps and trust that He’d show her if she was on the right track.

“You’re stayin’.’ “ Max wrinkled her nose. “I see the decision on your face.”

“And you’re going.”

Max sighed. “I guess that’s the way things have to be.”

“I’ll get these dishes cleared up.” Jo stood. “And take Max and Adam to the airport. The flight leaves in a couple of hours.”

“Will you go by where Brent and Karen live?” Desi stood up with her dirty plate. “I’d like to ride along. I need to ask Brent a few more questions.”

“Sorry” Jo followed Desi to the sink. “Brent’s dropping Adam off on the way to work.” She set a fistful of silverware in the sink and looked at her watch. “Should be here any minute.”

“How about I ride to the airport with you anyway? You can tell me about Inner Witness and if Karen—”

The cordless phone on the counter shrilled. Jo snatched it up and turned her back on Desi.

“It’s for you.” Jo thrust the phone at her.

Desi took it, questioning the woman with her eyes. Jo shrugged and stepped away to join Max, who was rinsing dishes. Must have stomped a sore toe asking about the Inner Witness and Karen in the same breath.

“Hello?”

“Is this Desiree Jacobs?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m Ivan Spellman, administrator at the New Mexico Museum of Art and Anthropology. You called here yesterday?”

“Yes, Mr. Spellman, but this isn’t the number I left with your secretary.”

“Yes, I know. Unfortunately, she mislaid that one. But the
police told me you were coming to Albuquerque and where you’d be staying.”

“Would that be Officer Gillis and his partner who filled you in?”
Foul play, gentlemen
. They overstepped professional bounds giving out that information.

Spellman cleared his throat. Maybe he guessed he’d said more than he should about loose lips in his local PD. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. Why did you call me, Ms. Jacobs?”

“As the head of HJ Securities, I wanted to let you know that I’m here if you have any questions or concerns about your loss.” Desi walked over to the kitchen window and looked out onto a cement patio. A large shed occupied most of the yard beyond that. Not a garage. What was it? She pulled her mind back to the phone conversation.

“I’m up to my neck in questions and concerns,” the administrator said, “but the police are handling the investigation. Or they were until the FBI decided an Indian artifacts case needed to be theirs.” The man sounded like his breakfast didn’t agree with him.

“I’m aware that the authorities have the case in hand.” Try nearly being hog-tied by a bullheaded boyfriend determined to make that point. “We’re happy to let them do their job, but we’re also committed to making our expertise available to you and to them.”

Spellman snorted. “Your
expertise
should have stopped this nightmare from happening. As of today, I want your staff to stay clear of museum property. We’re going to look for a new security service.”

She took a deep breath.
Daddy, I could do with a dose of your patience
. “I’m sure you’re aware that there are circumstances no security company can guard against.”

“Like treacherous employees? I keep hearing that song and
dance, but a faithful employee died defending this museum.”

“A terrible thing, Mr. Spellman. Do you know if he had family?”

“Well, ah … er, no. But I’ll find out. In the meantime, unless someone can offer me ironclad proof that one of my people is a thief, I don’t want to hear the suggestion again.”

“Is that why you suspended Brent Webb from his duties?”

Indrawn breath. “Webb is a student, not an employee.”

“And his missing wife?”

“You tell me. You’re staying at her mother’s house.”

“But you wouldn’t object to her being guilty?” Why was she pushing this man? The soul of diplomacy she wasn’t today.

Heavy pause. “Mrs. Webb was a part-time receptionist with a poor work record over the past eight months. Her supervisor has been reprimanded for keeping her on. Whether that means she’s an accomplice in the theft, I’m not prepared to guess.”

She turned and grimaced at Max, who was staring at her with a dirty dish in hand. Jo scrubbed at a frying pan, lips pursed. Good thing the woman couldn’t hear the administrator’s side of the conversation, or he might wind up with a load of buckshot in
his
tail.

Desi switched the phone to her other ear. “Mr. Spellman, we both want the culprits to be caught. Just as no security company can guard against every eventuality, no employer can guarantee his employees’ honesty. We need to continue working together, especially since we know little yet. Maybe I could drop in and see you in person later today.”

The man on the other end cleared his throat. “That might be all right. I’d be interested to hear why you’re staying at the childhood home of one of the suspects.”

Desi forced a laugh. “That’s an easy one. Other answers may be harder to come by. Does two-thirty work for you?”

“Make it at least three.”

“I’ll see you at three, Mr. Spellman.” Desi put the phone back in its stand and whirled toward Max and Jo. “Aagh! Mr. Concerned Administrator hasn’t bothered to find out if his dead employee was a family man, but he’s sure busy hunting a scapegoat for the theft—as long as it’s not someone on his payroll.”

Jo shook her head as she put the pan into the dishwasher. “One of those tooth-grindin’ conversations.”

Max crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “Tough customer, eh? At least you got in to see him. Maybe you can check out the theft scene while you’re at it.”

“I’ll take a look, but after multiple law enforcement agencies and the experts from our Denver office have swept through there, I don’t expect to find anything new.” Desi looked at Jo, who was wiping her hands on a towel. “I’m no private detective. If I uncover anything that might help find Karen, even if it’s incriminating, I’m going to head straight for Agent Ortiz.”

“Understood.” Jo nodded.

“And stop stonewalling me when I ask questions that make you uncomfortable.”

Jo’s chin came up. “I’m not uncomfortable talkin’ to a genuine seeker about the Reverend Romlin. Karen was helped by his broadcasts and the ministry team that visited after Adam was born. That church of Brent’s didn’t offer much personal attention.”

So there was the bone of contention between Brent and Jo. Interesting to know what Brent’s side of the story was. “This is no witch hunt. I’m trying to understand what Karen might have been thinking when she disappeared.”

Jo tossed the towel onto the counter. “Ask what you want on the way to the airport. But if you try to smear the Reverend, you’ll have me to answer to.” The woman stalked out.

“Whew!” Max shook her head. “You mash her buttons almost
as well as her ex. She should be kissin’ your feet for helpin, and she acts like you’re a threat.”

“Maybe I should get a hotel room.” Desi scratched her head.

“A cell phone’s playin’ somethin’ majestic from Karen’s room!” Jo’s voice carried from the other end of the house.

“That’ll be mine.” Desi headed for the bedroom. Brent came through the front door with Adam in his car seat as she hurried past. She waved at him. “Tiptoe in with sock feet.”

“Jo’s on the warpath, eh?” His laugh followed her.

Desi got to her phone right when it stopped playing
Agnus Dei
. She checked her missed calls record and groaned.

Max came in and started tossing things into her wheelie. “Bad news?”

“Paris office. If it’s not coming from one direction, it’s another.”

“More of that wranglin’ over contract language with the Louvre?”