Page 85 of Deadly Secrets
The interior of the house was cool. Roman flipped on the kitchen light and reset his security alarm as Brooke tossed her purse on the counter.
“I’m sorry the crew is upset about my absence,” she said to Dave. “They’re picky about who they work with. Who did you get to take my place?”
“On short notice like this?” His fists once more went to his generous waistline. “Who do you think I could get with your credentials and experience that the crew would agree to work with?”
“How about Lenny Oswald?”
“He’s on a dig in South America.”
“Martina Gonzalez?”
“She took a research position with the University of Oregon.”
Brooke tapped an impatient foot. “I’m sorry. I can’t leave right now, but maybe in a few…”
She glanced at Roman. What did she want him to say? That he could catch her stalker in a few days? Weeks? “It’s not safe for you to take off on a dig until your attacker is arrested.”
“This could be the biggest find in that region in this century,” Dave said, pinning Brooke with a hard gaze. “Your crew is depending on you to make sure the work is done right and follows all the government guidelines.I’mdepending on you.”
“Did you not hear me?” Roman said. “Her life may be in danger.”
Dave’s gaze never veered from Brooke’s face. “You signed a contract to handle this dig. I expect you to live up to our agreement. If that means I need to hire security for you, I’ll do it, but the Smithsonian, and your country, as well as the men and women of your dig team, are all depending on you doing your job.”
Brooke’s foot stopped tapping. She straightened and now her hands went to her hips. “I signed that contract in good faith, and if I could uphold it, I certainly would. But like I’ve already told you multiple times, I’m assisting The Department of Homeland Security, the FBI, and a couple other agencies you’ve never even heard of to stop a serial killer, who may also be after me. I’m sorry if that conflicts with your agenda to unearth bones and artifacts that have been buried for hundreds of years if not longer, but I can’t renege on my commitment to the Domestic Terrorism Taskforce.”
Dave shook his head and stared at the floor, running a hand through his wavy hair. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. I realize you believe what you’re doing is your duty, but it seems to me that Dr. Walsh’s taskforce is far more competent in hunting down a killer than you are. Can you not simply consult over the phone?”
“You can’t guarantee her safety at the dig site,” Roman said. “And Dr. Heaton’s physical presence is of great value to me and my team. We need her here to examine evidence and talk to leads.”
Dave glared at him now. “She’s not a police officer, and from the looks of things, neither of you is all that busy with this case she’s consulting on. Or do you regularly examine evidence and talk to leads dressed like that?”
Brooke held up both hands. “That’s enough. Dave, I’m sorry, I can’t go to Utah until this case is resolved. At that time, I’ll get on a plane posthaste and get to work. I promise.”
He shook his head and walked to the door. “That won’t be necessary, Dr. Heaton. You’re fired. The Smithsonian won’t be using you again for any future jobs.”
Just as the door slammed shut behind the asshole, and Brooke let out an exasperated cry, Roman’s phone went off with Polly’s ringtone.
He let it ring and reached for Brooke, but she backed away. “It’s okay. Answer your phone.”
As she stomped out of the kitchen, he snatched his cell from his pocket. “Please tell me you have good news.”
Polly’s voice was shaky. “Afraid not, boss. Pastor Rogers just found Jamison LeMont’s body in front of the mission doors. He’s dead.”
Jamison, the kid from the mission who’d talked to Brooke earlier in the week? “Shit. What happened?”
“I’ll give you one guess. He has a sigil carved into his forehead.”
“Fuck.”
“There’s more. The Rev left a message on the kid’s chest.”
“A message?”
“You better get over here. I think it’s for Dr. Heaton.”
