The Night Killer

asked.
    “Things from my purse and glove compartment,” Diane told him.
    “How did they end up in a ditch?” he asked.
    She smiled grimly. “They didn’t. Look, I’m sorry to drag all of you out of bed.”
    “We weren’t in bed,” said David. “We were up worrying about you. Are you all right? Where have you been?” He bent down and picked up the rest of Diane’s things.
    “Trying out for a part in the remake of Deliverance ,” she said, as Frank hugged her close.
    He smelled like aftershave. It was a comforting aroma.
    “I’m relieved you’re back,” he said. “You want to tell us what happened?”
    “In my office. I need to shower and change clothes. First, I need to get these boxes of artifacts to Jonas Briggs’ office. Please, I’ll tell you everything, but I need to get this done first.”
    “Sure,” he said. “Whatever you need.” His blue-green eyes looked dark under the parking lot lights, but she could still see the concern in them. The others were relieved—and bewildered, but she could see that Frank was still worried.
    “I’m all right,” she repeated, looking into his eyes. “Don’t worry about the way I look. I got caught out in a thunderstorm.”
    “You look wonderful,” he said.
    Frank didn’t let her go for a moment. Diane was inclined to hang on to him too. Feeling safe was like an elixir, an opiate; she could happily drown in the feeling. Reluctantly, she pulled away.
    Izzy stared at the hood of her vehicle. “Did you have a wreck?”
    Jin and David, just noticing the hood of the SUV, walked over and examined the huge dent.
    “Sort of. Let’s get the boxes in first.” She knew they had a million questions, but it was such a long story, and her muscles were aching, and she wanted to be clean. God, she wanted to be clean.
    They each took a box of projectile points and carried them to the second floor, where Jonas Briggs’ archaeology office was located. They stacked the boxes against the wall after Diane moved some of Jonas’ books and journals out of the way. When the last box was delivered from her vehicle, she sat down a moment in Jonas’ chair behind his desk and stared at the boxes, each one neatly labeled in Roy Barre’s hand.
    “That place up there gets no cell service,” commented David. “We tried to call the Barres to find out where you were. Their landline was out of order.”
    Diane broke into tears. She couldn’t help it. It just came out like water through a broken dam. She put her head down on her arms on Jonas’ desk and sobbed. Frank knelt by her side and put an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t mind Frank or David seeing her cry. They had witnessed her breaking down before. But she was embarrassed to show weakness in front of the others.
    “Diane, what’s wrong?” Frank whispered.
    She raised her head and sat up. “The Barres are dead,” she said. “The phone was out of order because their murderer cut the wire.”
    Diane heard someone suck in a breath.
    “Dead?” said Jin. “When?”
    Diane stood up, drying her eyes with a Kleenex from Jonas’ desk. “I’ll tell you all about it in my office.”
    She locked up Jonas’ office and walked downstairs and out to the parking lot and retrieved the poncho and knife from the SUV. Frank went with her, holding her hand as if she might bolt away at any moment.
    She asked one of the security personnel to drive the SUV around the building and park it inside the fence on the crime lab side of the museum.
    “I can take it to the barn,” he said, referring to the place where they stabled the fleet of museum vehicles.
    “I want it processed for evidence,” said Diane.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
    Diane stood a moment, watching it leave; then she and Frank walked back into the museum. David, Jin, Izzy, and Hector were in the lobby. They all walked silently together to the east wing, where her office was located.
    So much walking. Diane was tired of walking. She’d been doing it all night. She wanted to sleep, but there was a lot to do before she could go home and rest.
    Diane’s museum office suite had a shower. She had thought it an absurd luxury at first, but she had used it so many times that it was now a necessity. On more than one occasion she’d been grateful to have it. She was grateful now. Frank and her crew sat in the lounge part of her office while she showered and changed into the clean clothes she always kept on hand.
    Diane ran the shower as hot as she dared and