Dead Hunt

William Rivers.
‘‘Oh, no,’’ Diane said aloud. ‘‘She killed him.’’
Diane read Neva’s notes. Rivers was found in his garage next to his car. Blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. One blow. Nothing found at the scene. No unaccounted-for trace on his body. No sign that Clymene had killed him, but Diane believed she had— what kind of coincidence would it be for him to be murdered by someone else on the day Clymene escaped? One interesting item: Neva noted that his car had been vacuumed. The bag from his vacuum cleaner was missing.
Diane had forgotten about the White County crime scene in all the commotion. She just realized that Jin and Neva couldn’t have gotten any sleep.
‘‘Well,’’ said Diane when she finished reading. ‘‘I suppose I’d better go face the music.’’ She stood and handed Mike the pages. ‘‘Better burn these.’’
Mike laughed. ‘‘I’ll eat them right after you leave.’’ He stopped smiling. The perpetual crease between his eyebrows deepened. ‘‘Can I do anything?’’
‘‘What do you have in mind?’’ asked Diane, smiling at him.
‘‘We could run away together. I know some wonderful exotic places.’’ He grinned again.
Mike made a running joke about having a thing for Diane. She didn’t believe it, or rather, she didn’t believe it much. It was more of a friendly flirtation on his part. She never returned it and he never took it beyond talk, which she was glad of. She didn’t want Neva hurt, nor did she want to lose Mike as a caving partner.
‘‘The marshals would hunt us down—not to mention Neva and Frank,’’ she said.
‘‘Guess you’re right, Doc.’’ He walked with her the short distance to the door. ‘‘Good luck.’’
‘‘Thanks, Mike. I know intrigue isn’t in your job description,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Isn’t it? I think it is.’’ He opened the door.
‘‘It should be, with everything that’s going on,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I read today’s paper,’’ he said. ‘‘How is Kendel taking it?’’
‘‘Today’s paper? There’s something in it about the museum? Damn. Do you have one here?’’ she asked.
He retrieved a newspaper from the recycling bin and handed it to her. ‘‘I’m sorry, Doc. I shouldn’t have mentioned it, with everything else on your shoulders.’’
‘‘That’s okay, Mike. I need to know.’’
She took the newspaper. It was the Atlanta JournalConstitution and she had made the headlines.
    LOOTED ARTIFACTS AT RIVERTRAIL MUSEUM: IS DIRECTOR BACKPEDALING?
    Diane scanned the article. It wasn’t as bad as the one in the Rosewood paper, but it wasn’t good either. Well, for now she’d settle for not as bad.
    ‘‘Everything is going to be all right,’’ said Diane as she went out the door. ‘‘I’ll make it all right.’’

Chapter 21
    District Attorney Curtis Riddmann, Deputy Marshals Chad Merrick and Dylan Drew, and Chief of Detectives Douglas Garnett were sitting at the round table in the crime lab when Diane arrived. Her staff was nowhere to be seen. They were probably in the DNA lab in the basement waiting, thought Diane. David was probably kicking himself for not thinking to bug the crime lab so they could hear what was going on. She smiled inwardly at the thought.
    The crime lab wasn’t cozy. With all the glassed-in rooms, white walls, and metal doors, it had a cold, icy look. Diane pulled out a chair across from them and sat down. She wore an off-white linen pantsuit with an ice blue blouse. She saw a blurred reflection of herself in the glass of a cubicle and thought she looked as cold and sterile as her lab—a thought that pleased her at the moment.
    The four law enforcement officials sat looking somber. They were seated at the table close together so Diane would be across from all of them. None appeared to be speaking to the others.
    The marshals were in jeans, navy T-shirts, and jackets today. DA Riddmann and Garnett were in suits— Garnett looking dapper as usual, and the DA trying hard to. DA Riddmann was not a man who wore suits well. His shoulders and chest were too thin, his hips too wide, and his legs too skinny. Riddmann did have a nice head of brown hair, but it tended to overwhelm his lean face.
    I should probably have an attorney, she thought. But lawyering up is tricky when you have to consider publicity—it wouldn’t be good for the crime lab or the museum. Right now headlines and potential headlines were running everything in her life. She