Tempest Court. Jan Walters
Brett’s head fell to his chest. Nope, this wasn’t good. Were these jars a harbinger of things to come? Plus, the jars were disgusting. Layla returned the jar to the desk and stood near him.
“Are you okay? You look pale.”
Brett rubbed his eyes. I wonder if Lisa will still think the vase is pretty after she hears this stuff! He needed to get back to work. “I appreciate your help.” He rose to his feet. “There’s one more thing. A friend of mine said he heard the jar vibrate and that it glowed. Is that even possible?”
Layla paused for a second before chuckling. “I’ve never heard of that happening. That said, in working with these ancient relics, I know that many myths and curses surround the items. Leave the jar with me for a while, and I’ll see what we can find.”
Brett nodded and turned; he was anxious to leave and get away from the damn jar. As he opened the door, he slowly turned back, facing Layla. “Why wasn’t one of the jars for the heart?”
“Egyptians believe the heart is the center of the soul, so it was left behind with the body.”
“Hmm, I would have thought the opposite. Thanks for taking a look at the jar. I’ll stop by the end of the week and see what you found out.”
Once outside, he stopped in the middle of the parking lot and took a deep breath. That was more information than he ever wanted to know about mummified body parts. Goosebumps crept up his arms. The entire situation was disturbing. From experience, these situations tended to mushroom into an outrageous calamity affecting the lives of people he loved.
A squad car pulled up beside him with flashing lights. Donnellson flashed a grin as he rolled down the car window.
“Are you checking on my girlfriend?”
Brett walked to the car and leaned down, resting his forearms on the car. “Girlfriend? When did that happen?”
Donnellson shrugged. “Just joking with you. Really, what’s going on?”
“I dropped something off to Layla.”
Donnellson rolled his blue eyes. “Damn. It’s like pulling teeth to get information out of you.”
“Fine. I dropped off a canopic jar.”
“A what?”
Brett laughed at his friend’s puzzled look. “A canopic jar. You know, those small jars that hold mummified body parts.”
“No shit!”
“Yeah shit! We had a rug shipped home, and when we opened it, the canopic jar was inside the rug.”
Donnellson pushed back his hat, revealing thick blond hair. “I’m sure Layla will know what to do with it. By the way, do you want to get together for dinner later this week? Layla has been busy with the gallery exhibit, so it would be late when we eat.”
He nodded. “I’ll check with Lisa and get back with you.”
Brett waved as Donnellson drove away. Once inside his squad car, he tossed his hat on the seat next to him and pondered his newfound knowledge. So the jar is Egyptian, just as Michael said. He hated that Michael was right on this one.
He drove east down Grand Avenue. His hands clenched the steering wheel. He hadn’t felt right since he bought the rug.
After weighing the pros and cons, Brett decided not to bother Michael or Anders at this point. Michael didn’t need to know the jar was Egyptian, and he sure wasn’t going to add more stress to Anders’s life. With two supernatural cases under his belt and having dealt with supernatural killers, he was confident. He would monitor things, and if needed, he would bring in backup. He pulled into the station parking lot. He’d learned one thing over the past two years: if something terrible is going to happen, you can’t stop it. You just have to be prepared to deal with the consequences.
Chapter 12
The last car pulled out of the Art Center parking lot. Henry Morrison clicked the lock on the front door and turned on the security system. It was easy work for a sixty-five-year-old retired police officer. Other than a few young people making out in the parking lot, nothing ever happened, which was how he liked it.
Henry loosened his belt. His doctor had been encouraging him to start an exercise program. Hell, there was no way he’d ever have a trim thirty-six-inch waist again. So what if I enjoy a piece of apple pie now and then? At least, with this job, I can walk it off a couple of miles each night.
He went from room to room throughout the sprawling building several times a night, checking all entry points. By two in the morning, he needed a caffeine break. Working nights was a killer. As he passed the administrative offices, a strange sound echoed down the hallway. It almost sounded like cracking glass. He took a step back and slightly turned his head to listen. Where is that sound coming from? Silence filled the air.
He slowly drew his gun, ignoring the tightness in his chest, and reached out to turn the doorknob of the closest office. The door was locked. He wondered if someone had come in through the window. With one hand, he gently pulled out the master key card. He swiped the card and eased the door open, peering around it. The window was intact. He took a quick breath. Had he imagined the sound?
He flipped on the desk lamp and looked around the office. Everything seemed to be in order. His shoulders sagged with relief. He eased the gun back in the holster and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. A shaky laugh escaped him. “Damn!” He was getting too old for this kind of stress. He pulled out the chair and slipped into it. He almost felt giddy with relief.
Once his heart slowed down to normal, he rose, flipped off the light, and walked toward the door. Pulling it closed, he shook his head, forgetting what it had felt like to investigate a break-in. You never knew if someone was waiting around the corner to shoot you. No wonder his hair had turned prematurely white.
He made his way to the break room and popped open a soda. Pulling out his phone, Henry checked the news and e-mails. A short while later, he tossed the empty can in the trash. It was time to make the rounds again.
The gallery had been swamped all week due to the excitement surrounding the Egyptian exhibit. Busloads of school kids arrived every day to check out the mummy. Candy wrappers and wads of gum were remnants of their presence. The mummy was more popular than the state fair.
He stooped and picked up another piece of candy. If he were working his regular daytime hours, junk on the floor would have already been cleaned up. Just his luck that someone had quit, so he pulled the night shift this week. The one positive thing was that he got to spend a lot of time checking out the exhibit—something he normally wouldn’t have time to do.
As he strolled through the exhibit area, he stopped at the large glass case that encased the mummy. He set the master key on the case as he reached in his pocket for peppermint candy. He popped the candy in his mouth, studying the ancient mummy. It fascinated him that ancient civilizations knew so much about medicine and the human body.
As he did every night this week, Henry stared down at the facial features of the mummy, observing his high cheekbones, a hawkish nose, broad shoulders, and a lean body. The mummy appeared to be that of someone in his prime. The old wrappings were gray with age and exposure to the elements. Night after night, the same thoughts played through his head. What did the guy look like all those years ago? How did he die? Did he die of disease? Was he murdered?
With a sigh, Henry straightened and patted his hand on the glass. “Night, Lumeri. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Whistling, Henry continued with his rounds with thoughts of the mummy vanishing. Only a few more hours and he could go home.
* * * * *
Silence reigned in the exhibit area. Minimal lighting cast shadows upon the ancient artifacts on the lofty walls. Dead leaves outside whirled against the numerous floor-to-ceiling glass panes.
The crackling sound