Dead Secret

he said.
    “Thanks. I need to tell Vanessa Van Ross what’s up.”
    David raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
    “I always keep her apprised of anything that affects the museum. People think that I don’t answer to anyone, but I do answer to her.”
    Diane walked with David back to the museum. He sneezed all the way. Diane felt as though a weight had been lifted from her just to be able to express her suspicions.

    Diane drove to Vanessa Van Ross’s home. Vanessa lived in the oldest section of Rosewood, where many of the trees were even older than her 114-year-old grandmother had been. Her huge house was at the end of a long, tree-lined, winding drive.
    Diane pushed the doorbell and waited. The house was so well insulated she didn’t hear footfalls until the door was opened by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hartefeld, a fixture who had been with Vanessa for years. She was a tall, straight-backed woman in a dark gray pantsuit that matched her hair and eyes. Diane always thought she looked out of place in modern apparel—she should be wearing Victorian clothes to match her physical appearance. Despite her dour face, Mrs. Hartefeld was a friendly, happy person with a good sense of humor. She led Diane into the parlor, a white and gold French Provençal room that made her feel like she was waiting for the queen. Perhaps she was.
    “Dr. Fallon, I wanted to thank you for giving my grand-daughters a personal tour of the museum. They felt so special. They are still talking about it.”
    “I was happy to do it. I’m glad they enjoyed themselves.”
    “I’ll get Mrs. Van Ross. She’ll be delighted to see you. May I get you something to drink—coffee, tea, soda?”
    “No, thank you, Mrs. Hartefeld.”
    Diane stood by the fireplace looking up at a portrait of Milo Lorenzo staring down at her. His hand was on a Greek Ionic column pedestal. She sensed his disapproval and she felt guilty.
    “Diane, dear. What a surprise,” Vanessa Van Ross said.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I’m afraid my phones might be tapped.”
    Vanessa raised her eyebrows. “Sit down and tell me about it.”
    Diane sat on a white silk chair, hoping that the seat of her pants wasn’t soiled from the basement. She told Vanessa about the kidnapping, the threats, what happened to her mother, and how the two thugs claimed responsibility—including what they wanted. She thought Vanessa would give her the now-familiar openmouthed stare of surprise, then chastise her for letting things get so out of control.
    Vanessa did neither. She sat very still in her white and gold French sitting room, looking at the portrait of Milo.
    “What are you going to do?” she asked.
    Diane outlined her suspicions of Emery and her plan. Vanessa looked thoughtful as she spoke. When she finished, Diane blurted out, “If you want me to resign, I will . . . or I’ll resign from the crime lab.” She suddenly felt like a child in the principal’s office.
    “Don’t be silly, girl.” Vanessa did look cross now. She glanced up at Milo again. “We can’t have people making threats and controlling what we do, and we certainly can’t have them threatening the museum. Milo would have hated that. They must be found, rooted out and taken to task. They can’t be allowed to get away with it.”
    “I’ll do everything in my power to see that they are arrested.”
    “What both Milo and I liked about you is that we sensed that you would care for the museum more than for your career. We were right. That’s what we want for the museum—someone who sees it as their job to take care of it, not just themselves.”
    Diane was relieved. “Right now, I feel like I’ve put it in danger.”
    “No. It’s being held hostage.”
    “The board is going to be very angry—about the closing in particular,” said Diane.
    Vanessa smiled thinly. “Probably so. You will just have to handle that.”
    Diane didn’t look forward to it. “I must ask you not to tell anyone about this until it’s over.”
    “Of course.”
    “I don’t quite know how to say this.”
    “Say what, my dear?”
    “The indications are that something very large is at stake here. Perhaps a great deal of wealth or power. Maybe an organization or a family. Someone had to pay these guys to do what they did. They hurt my family just so I’d leave town and they could steal the bones before I got a chance to identify them. Then they kidnapped me when that didn’t work.”
    “What are you trying to tell me?”
    “I