Dead Past

them from me there.”
    “What happened?” asked Diane.
    “I got what he wanted, including the Van Ross diamond. I put them in a Ziploc bag . . . but I just couldn’t take them from the museum. When I was leaving I put them in a planter—the one with the really tall palm. They should still be there. I was going to tell him that I would go with him to the police or to his father to get help. They have a lot of money and if he was in trouble, I know they would help him out.”
    “Darcy, the guy was using you. Why can’t you see that?” said her father.
    She looked up at her father. “Daddy, I know you think that, but you didn’t know him.”
    “Darcy,” said Diane. “Listen to your father. He knows Blake Stanton far better than you.”
    Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? Dad’s never met him.”
    “He knows his type,” said Diane. She saw her father nodding his head.
    “You don’t understand . . . ,” began Darcy.
    “Darcy, besides being director of the museum, do you know what else I do?”
    “Yes, we all do. You’re director of the crime lab.”
    Her parents exchanged shocked glances.
    “Yes, and in that capacity we investigated Blake Stanton’s murder.”
    “The man who was threatening him killed him. He did it, and it’s my fault. If I had just given him the gemstones.” She started to cry.
    “Darcy.” This time Diane used her stern voice, the one that scared the herpetologist and the mayor. “I want you to listen to me. There was no such man. He didn’t exist.”
    “He must. Blake wouldn’t lie to me.” Her voice sounded in genuine anguish.
    “He didn’t just steal the dinosaur egg and the gems,” said Diane. “A Conus gloriamaris, eight Cypraea aurantium, and a giant whelk from Aquatics are missing. A Boloria improba acrocnema is missing from Entomology. You know how rare they are. In all, over thirty thousand dollars’ worth of museum items were stolen.”
    Darcy’s eyes grew wider and her mouth dropped open. “No. That can’t be.”
    Her parents were clearly stunned. Probably wondering now if it was a good idea for them to encourage their daughter to confess and take her medicine.
    “That’s not all. He was doing the same thing to the university. Rare books are missing, as well as money from the petty cash drawers of several departments. Darcy, your father is right: Blake Stanton was using you to gain access to valuable items. I know this hurts, but you can’t defend him. For your own sake, when the police question you, don’t defend him.”
    Darcy started sobbing. Diane felt guilty for being so harsh. Both her parents looked very concerned.
    “Darcy didn’t know about the other things,” said her mother.
    “You can see this guy was using her,” her father said. “The police will be able to see that.”
    Diane nodded. “Darcy, Blake’s behavior was typical of a sociopath. One of their special gifts is to get trusting people to believe them. He was a seriously disturbed young man and not worth the emotions you have invested in him.”
    “You didn’t know him; he was so nice to me,” said Darcy.
    Her father looked at the ceiling in frustration.
    “Darcy, honey,” said her mother.
    “Darcy,” said Diane, “after the explosion, all of us who lived near the house had to evacuate. While I was trying to leave, Blake came up from the explosion, pulled a gun on me, and tried to hijack my car. I was able to escape on foot, but he fired shots at me from a pistol he was carrying.”
    Her mother sucked in her breath.
    “Oh, God,” said her father. “I knew he was no good, Darcy.”
    “Is that true?” said Darcy.
    “Yes, it is. He was not a nice boy.”
    Darcy started to cry. Diane hoped she had gotten to her.
    “What are you going to do?” asked her father. “I believe my daughter didn’t know about the other thefts.”
    “So do I. What do you want, Darcy?” asked Diane.
    “I don’t know. I love working in the museum, I do. I’m sorry about the diamonds. They are in the planter, they really are.”
    “I know. They have been found. Darcy, I know you loved working at the museum, but you still broke not only my trust, but the trust of the people you work with.”
    “I know,” she said.
    Her mother patted her hand again. She looked so sad for her daughter.
    “However,” continued Diane, “if you are willing to become a docent, where you don’t have access to the museum vaults or exhibits, you can work your way up again and salvage your