Page 18 of Boxed In

“What?”

“I cannot tell you.”

“Back to square one.” She eyed the box. “What are you saying—that this thing is a bomb or something?”

“That is close enough.”

A wave of cold swept over her. “Then why don’t we just take it to the police?”

He tipped his head to the side, studying her. “First—because the police will think I am as crazy as you do.”

She swallowed. “That obvious—huh?”

“Yes. You assume I am . . .” There was another one of his pauses. “Schizophrenic.”

“No,” she answered when she was thinking she was in a car with a madman and a time bomb.

He gripped her arm. “Do not lie to me. Mental illness is your only reference. It is hard for you to believe that a spirit was trapped in the box. You think that is a . . . delusion.”

When she didn’t answer, he went on. “But you saw the mist shoot out of the box after Luke opened the final latch. The mist with the spirit of Zabastian. The warrior joined with Luke Garner’s mind and body. You know it, even if you do not want to admit it.”

“Okay,” she said because there was no use arguing. And in truth, she wasn’t sure what to argue about. If Luke was delusional, then she wasn’t going to change his mind. And if “Zabastian” was telling the truth, then she was in deep monkey doo, as he might put it.

He began speaking again. “If we went to the police, we would have another problem, too. They will try to keep the box . . . as evidence. That will give the thieves the chance to acquire it again. So I must return the box to the Grand Master of the Moon. Only he can take advantage of its power.”

Olivia turned and stared out the window, watching the wind blow a piece of crumpled paper down the sidewalk. She wanted to ask the man beside her to let her go. But where would that leave Luke?

As though he were following her thought processes, he said, “You must stay with me, until we can turn the box over to its owners.”

“Why?”

He kept his gaze fixed on her. “We got away from the garage. But you are still in grave danger. If the men who attacked us cannot find the box and cannot find me—they will come after you.” His voice was low and harsh. “They will torture you, and when you can’t give them the information, you will die painfully.”

She winced. “That’s pretty grim.”

“It is the truth.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

oOo

Carl Peterbalm had enjoyed a very nice dinner at the Prime Rib, one of Baltimore’s premier restaurants. Or—to put that in perspective—he had ordered a very nice dinner, starting with a double martini. He’d gulped the gin, but he hadn’t done the rest of the meal justice because he’d been worrying about the shipment of antiques that he’d ordered from France.

He’d gotten it from a dealer who had promised him extra high value for his money. Neither one of them had mentioned the words “stolen goods,” but that had been implicit in the transaction.

Either that or “forgeries.” It didn’t matter which. You didn’t get legitimate merchandise like this shipment for what he’d paid.

Carl had weighed the pros and cons and decided to accept the offer because he was determined to show his father that he could make a killing in the import part of their business. Dad thought he was the only one who could score the big bucks. But Carl could do him one better.

He’d ordered the merchandise and waited impatiently for it to arrive. The trouble was, once Olivia had started unwrapping the antiques, he’d gotten a very bad feeling.

He couldn’t say exactly why. Well, it had something to do with that chest with the nature stuff and the moons carved all over it. The moment he’d seen it, he’d felt a strange chill in the room—like the box was haunted. And he’d thought Olivia felt it too.

Reluctant to start a discussion about it, he’d gone out to dinner to think about what he should do. And he’d come to the conclusion that the box should be locked in the safe—until he could get an opinion about it. So he started back to the office.

When he pulled into the garage, he saw that Olivia’s car was still in its parking slot. He also noticed a strange smell in the air—like maybe some kids had been setting off fireworks. And he spotted some chips in the paint of some of the cement columns.

Well, he’d have to speak to the management about making sure the place was secure, he thought as he hurried to the elevator.

---