Dead Secret

true.”
    “According to Charlotte Hawkins. John Rose’s version has her being killed by the boyfriend of the maiden whom she turned to salt.”
    “So she was either the good witch of the north or the wicked witch of the east,” said Neva.
    Diane shook her head. “She was such a small thing, I can’t see her being a threat. Her bones don’t show that she was particularly muscular. And the thrust came from the back.”
    “So you’re thinking they called her a witch to cover up a murder?” said Neva.
    “I’m not saying anything now. I don’t even know yet that she is from the same cave.”
    “So you won’t be able to tell if she’s a witch?” asked Neva.
    “There are no osteological characteristics that I am aware of that indicate witchiness in an individual—so no, I won’t be able to do that,” Diane said with a smile.
    “But then,” said Neva, “her body wasn’t found for hundreds of years, right? So they didn’t need a story. Besides, it wouldn’t have worked anyway, since the Romans were in charge. Witch or not, the Romans would have arrested them . . . or worse.”
    “We’ll probably never know what really happened,” said Diane. “But we’ll know something about her. And at least the general height of her killer.” She handed the drawing back to Neva. “You did a good job. I’m anxious for Gregory and Mr. Rose to see your drawing.”
    Just as Diane spoke she heard someone knocking on the door. As Frank was about to answer, David entered the RV with Garnett.
    “Do you know if they have found anything?” asked Diane.
    Garnett shook his head. “Nothing yet. I really don’t think there’s anything there. I know you’re on the wrong track about Emery. I’m betting he won’t show up tomorrow night to steal the evidence, and I don’t believe he is in league with those guys who kidnapped you.”
    Diane didn’t address her hunch about Emery. There was a good chance she was wrong about him. “I’ll be just glad to clear the museum and crime lab of any threats.” She shook her head. “They knew just how to scare me.”

    In the wee hours of morning just before dawn, Diane heard a telephone ringing. She reached for her cell, then realized that it wasn’t hers that was ringing. She and Neva were on the bed. Frank was on the sofa, and David was in the bunk. The phone sounded like it came from the bunk.
    Diane raised herself up and slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Neva. She heard David answer it in a sleepy voice. She went over to his bunk.
    “Jin’s ready to upload the DNA profiles,” said David. “Can we do that here?”
    Frank roused to wakefulness and stretched. He was much more of a morning person and was wide-awake by the second stretch. Diane was still trying to focus her eyes. Sometimes she envied Frank.
    “You can plug it in here,” he said. He and David set up the laptop on the dining table and connected via wireless network to the museum server. Diane was glad Frank was here to lend his expertise. She resolved to learn more about her own computer—not only the software.
    David sent an instant message to Jin to start the download. It took several minutes. When it finished, he sat down at the computer and logged on to his system in the lab. He started the search on the DNA sample taken from Diane’s left ear, hair and the left side of her jacket—Deviated Septum. Diane was surprised when he got a hit. She realized that she hadn’t expected either of them to be in the system—she didn’t know why, just that she wasn’t feeling particularly lucky.
    “Neil Valentine. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I’m not surprised,” she said. Diane looked at his face. She didn’t recognize it. “Let’s try the other one.” She was feeling luckier now. But there wasn’t a match.
    “I have other databases I can look in,” said David, “but I’d like to reserve those as a last resort, if you know what I mean.”
    Diane did. They were databases that they didn’t legally have access to, and therefore any information they got from them couldn’t be used in court.
    “Let’s look up Valentine’s record again,” said Frank.
    “Look for known associates.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket. “This is a list of hackers—some were juveniles when they were caught, so their records would be sealed, but we can find the arresting officer and talk to him.”
    They looked at the Neil Valentine record again. He’d served eighteen months in prison for