Читать книгу Tempest Court - Jan Walters - Страница 18

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 of popping glass broke the silence. The glass case surrounding the mummy vibrated. A slight shudder shook the mummy’s frame, barely noticeable only to the keenest eyes.

* * * * *

He triggered a motion detector as he entered the mummy room, clicking on a set of overhead lights. Scanning the room, Henry swore. “Where the hell is it?” He scratched his head. He couldn’t believe that he left the master key somewhere.

“Aha!” A wide smile filled his face. He strolled over to the mummy. There on top of the glass sat the key card. “Damn it. I’m getting sloppy in my old age,” he muttered to himself. He swept up the card and dropped it in his pocket.

Leaning down to the top of the glass, he tapped his finger above the mummy’s head. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

A hint of a breeze brushed against his left cheek. He straightened, slowly turning around the room. The hairs on his arm stood on end. He shivered before glancing down at the mummy once again. What did he expect to see? The mummy looked the same.

Henry ran a hand down his face, squeezing his eyes shut. His imagination was on overload tonight, even though everything appeared to be in its place. He had the key card. The exhibit was undisturbed. The building was secure, but every instinct in his body told him to get the hell out of here.

Henry’s pocket vibrated, which made him jerk backward, lose his balance, and tumble to the floor. The vibration still rumbled from his pocket. His phone! Spread-eagle on the floor, he managed to get a hold of his phone and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello!” he yelled, his blood pressure spiking once again. Damn it!

His eyes widened. “No, this ain’t Sharon. You got the wrong number. Yes, I’m sure. Sharon isn’t here.” With a sigh, he clicked off his phone. Still sprawled out on the floor, he crawled to his knees and rose. Every bone in his body ached. He was too damn old to be falling on the floor. He dusted off his pants and took a deep breath. Okay, relax. You’re just jumpy.

One step. Then two. Henry’s feet were moving. He was leaving the exhibit area. He hurried down the hall, refusing to look behind him. Once ensconced in the office, he sat behind the desk. With his back against the wall, he faced the door. He slid out his gun and set it in front of him. He wasn’t moving until his shift was over. When the sun rose and light filled the building, everything would look different. Safe. Then he could go home.