Page 22

CHAPTER 22

Max

I wake up early the next morning to the sound of my phone buzzing. The incoming text is from Ben apologizing for having to miss our coffee date—the life of an Emergency Room surgeon and all that. I put the phone down and get ready for the day. I still stop for coffee since I had my heart set on some and decide to go into work a little early. I sip my coffee as I stroll up to the main entrance to the museum. Stopping at the steps I look up; the morning sun makes the stone seem clean and fresh despite a century of wear. Another sip and a satisfied smile; I'm ready for the day.

“I’m one lucky guy,” I say before making my way up to the entrance. I quickly pull out my phone and send Ben a text: I’ll be thinking about you all day . Then follow it up with a smile, wink, kiss face, and eggplant emoji. I chuckle and think, too much? Fuck it, who cares.

Once inside, I stroll through an exhibit I hadn’t had much time to enjoy—the Ancient Human Experience. The exhibit has been there for months and will officially end once the King Tut exhibit is up and running.

I lean against the viewing rail and peer at the images of rolling hills and grasslands. The humans depicted are modern, lifelike, but they are dressed as scientists imagine they were during the Pleistocene Epoch. The ice age must have been so hard on these early humans as the signs depicted their life expectancy averaged nearly forty years of age.

I move along the exhibit and stop at another life-size diorama. This one depicts an extinct short-faced bear and a saber-toothed tiger, stalking their prey. Humans were amongst the natural food sources of both animals, but according to the signs, they stood no chance once the local population started using Clovis Points on their spears. This ushered in the dawn of modern man, showing the way out to the megafauna of the day.

I can’t help but feel some sadness as I look at all the different animals that once roamed North America. There was such an abundance of life thousands of years ago, and now it seems life struggles to hold on in the ever-changing natural world around us. I think about the Page Museum and all the animal remains that had been recently dug up in the area when the city started developing their underground train system. Tens of thousands of skeletal remains were unearthed and crated, shipped to the museum for years of exploration to come. Maybe one of these days I will be lucky enough to work at that institution as well. A boy could dream , I think.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Catherine Nakamura says as she comes up alongside me. “I could sit in here and get lost in my own thoughts and imagination.”

I nod. “Same here. When I close my eyes, my thoughts are pulled into the past. What it must have felt like to be there. There was no relief from the unrelenting cold or the constant fear of disease, famine, and predators.” I gesture toward the huge extinct jaguar skeleton that stands nearly as tall as I do.

“They often lived in fear of being hunted and killed. Could you imagine living even a day where you felt you were being stalked, looked at as a food source?”

You’d be surprised at my answer , I think. Not to mention how I currently can’t even return to my own home without feeling like I am being watched at every turn. Each step I take, I want to look behind me to see if I am being followed. Work, home, even in public places I no longer feel safe.

“You’re right. I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like,” I say.

“I’m glad we no longer live in such a world,” Catherine says. “Even though it sure is wonderful to imagine it sometimes.”

“That’s a great way to look at it. We’d never want to go back and actually live that way, but it sure is cool to think about it sometimes.”

“I love this place,” she says, her voice fading with each word.

I can’t help but notice she seems suddenly sad. I’d planned to ask about the delivery waiting in her office but am suddenly interrupted when the exhibition door swings open with a crash. Both startled, we turn toward the sound.

“There you are,” Bob says as he marches toward us.

“Bob,” I say as the man approaches.

Bob glares at me for a moment and then addresses Catherine. “Sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Austin says he needs to start breaking down this exhibit. According to the timeline presented to the security staff, we weren’t supposed to start that until next week. I don’t have the staff here to oversee this mess until then.”

Catherine’s expression tightens into pursed lips and a set jaw. “Let me handle Dr. Austin. In the meantime, stick to the original plan.” Her face and neck grow blotchy and red as her anger sets in .

Bob nods. “Great, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to complete my rounds.”

“He’s a crabby son of a bitch, isn’t he?” I say.

“You have no idea. I’m sorry you had to see that, but he’s right. Dr. Austin thinks he runs the place, but we are bound by set dates and times.”

“Catherine, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the package that was delivered for me?”

“Oh, yes. Come by anytime and pick it up.”

“Great, thank you,” I say. “I suppose it’s about that time for me to get to work. Dr. Austin will no doubt be in a bad mood once Bob’s done talking to him.”

“Very true,” she says with a smirk on her face, but then grows quiet and serious. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

She crosses her arms and steps uncomfortably close to me. Before she speaks, Catherine checks over her shoulder and then up at the security camera in the corner of the room. She maneuvers herself so her back is to the camera and then whispers, “There is someone here at the museum that isn’t who they say they are, and I feel I owe it to you to warn you. Be careful, Max. I’ve already said too much and my career is on the line.”

“I have questions,” I whisper, careful to not enunciate using my lips as if I were a ventriloquist.

Catherine shoves her hands into her pockets and walks away. What the hell is going on here and what did it have to do with the package that was delivered? My mentioning the delivery seemed to force her warning. But why?

The dread in the pit of my stomach deepens.

I retrieve my lab coat from the locker room and head for the laboratory. I straighten my coat sleeves and then push the automatic opener to the laboratory door. It swings wide, and I walk in expecting a full team working diligently on the remaining Egyptian antiquities.

“Hello?” I say. “Is anyone here?” The room is fully lit, but it appears empty—most strange.

“Dr. Salgado,” Dr. Paul Austin says as he steps out from behind a piece of machinery I assumed was used to run tests or analyze data. “How nice of you to show up to work today.”

I check my watch again, but I’m definitely not late. “Where is everyone?”

“Good question,” Paul replies. “I show up as I usually do, and the lab is a ghost town. I inquired with Catherine… excuse me, Dr. Nakamura… and she said there hadn’t been a single callout.”

“That is odd,” I say. Not even Bretton had showed up and he seemed to always be there. “What would you have me do, Dr. Austin?”

“Thankfully, I’m almost done. Apparently, we aren’t setting up the exhibit until next week, but it would be good to prep all the smaller pieces, catalog them, begin writing up the information for the educational plaques, and then safely return each piece to the numbered crates.”

“Oh,” I say. “That’s it?” I start to laugh, but the no-nonsense expression plastered on Dr. Austin’s face dissolves any mirth in the room like acid.

The day seems to drag on, but it’s actually kind of nice doing most of the work myself. I get to gain even more insight into what life was like at the time of King Tut’s rule.

My stomach growls, and I look at my watch. It’s time to go home and have some dinner, but when I look for Dr. Austin, he’s gone. How long had I been alone in the lab?

My spine tingles and I begin to feel unsafe being there alone. I curse myself for letting that psycho inside my head, but even Dr. Nakamura had freaked me out earlier with her warning. Who wasn’t as they appeared? Bob? Dr. Austin? Bretton? Who?

Another growl erupts, followed by a pang of hunger. Screw this, I’m going home. But first, I'm going to stop at Catherine’s office and pick up my package.

I make my way up to the main level, toward the exit and around the corner to her office. As I approach, I raise my hand to knock on the door when I see it’s cracked open. I stop for a moment to listen.

Whispered voices come from inside. I lean forward and place my ear into the open space between the edge of the door and the doorframe and hold my breath.

“I don’t care what position you have here,” Catherine says. “I’m the lead curator and my decisions stand.”

Silence follows her statement. Catherine must have been on the phone, but who was she talking to?

“I am the one who answers to the board, not you. And for the record, I don’t like how this entire situation is being handled,” she says, voice cracking with emotion. She clears her throat and adds, “No, the staff involved. I asked them not to come in today because you made the situation sound urgent. Do you care to explain yourself? Now, you listen to me, Feds or not, I’m in charge here.”

I need to shift positions to take the strain off my craned neck, but I don’t want to risk moving and getting caught. There’d be no way to explain my way out of it.

“There’s no reason to use that tone with me.” Catherine pauses for a few moments. “I understand. Yes. My apologies. You have my word. I’ll keep my eye on him.” Catherine slams the phone down on the base. “Bastards.”

I hear her chair roll, and I become painfully aware I'm a sitting duck, eavesdropping on my boss. I tiptoe down the short hallway and turn the corner, pressing my back up against the wall. Catherine’s heels click into the hallway, and she closes the door behind her. I sneak a peek and see she's going the opposite direction toward the main entrance to the museum. Once she's out of sight, I sneak back around and hurry to her office.

Taking a deep breath, I fight against the urge to enter her private space but can’t stop myself. I reach for the knob and turn it.

Unlocked.

I push the door open and enter the room, careful to close it behind me. I rush into the expansive office and over to her desk to look over her notepad and calendar. There doesn’t appear to be anything related to the conversation she was having on the phone. If nothing else, I will find my package and leave without a trace.

There's a closet in the back corner of the room, and I open the door. She has hung a few jackets and sweaters inside and stacked a couple of boxes on the floor, but nothing with my name on it. Hmm. I turn around and spot a wooden filing cabinet. I hurry over to it and begin rifling through the items on top. Nothing that belongs to me. Pulling on the cabinet drawers, my shoulders immediately sag—the fucking thing is locked. Picking the locks is always an option, but I don’t think there's enough time, at least not today.

I go back around to her desk and pull the top drawer out; there’s nothing but a few pencils and pens rolling around in there. The top right drawer is unlocked, but the bottom one is secured. I shift some of the top drawer’s contents around, careful not to forget how everything is before I move it. Lifting up an envelope, a single key catches my eye at the bottom of the drawer. The key is large, ornate, and looks quite old, much like the desk itself.

I hold the key up in the stream of light coming in through the windows near the top of the high ceiling. “I’ve come this far,” I whisper. I insert the key into the lock on the bottom drawer and hear the locking mechanism disengage. My stomach flutters with nervous energy. As a former cop, I know this is illegal, but something dangerous is going on around here and I need to get to the bottom of it.

Slowly pulling the drawer open, I'm shocked to see it contains nothing more than a few boxes of office supplies—pens, paperclips, and sticky notes. Odd , I think. Why under lock and key? I'm about to push the drawer back in and lock it, but the depth of the drawer seems off to me. I kneel down to get more of a side angle view, and it dawns on me.

False bottom.

I quickly take out all the supplies and place them on the floor. I tap on the wooden bottom, and it feels hollow. There's definitely something in there, but how does it open? Feeling around the sides and bottom of the drawer, a small piece of metal scrapes my finger. Looking underneath, I see it's a lever. Once on the floor, I lay on my back and turn the lever 180 degrees until I hear a pop. Sitting back up, I reach into the drawer and pull up the false bottom.

Inside the secret compartment is a large envelope with my name on it. What the hell is going on here? I open it and pull out the contents. They're surveillance photos, in black and white, of me . My heart pounds in my ears and I feel completely betrayed by Catherine. Why does she have these?

Voices from somewhere in the hall outside the office startle me. There isn’t time to study the images, so I quickly take out my phone and take photos to review later. Careful to replace everything exactly how I found it, I make quick work of the cover up, ensuring to relock the drawers. I even wipe down the drawers and the objects I touched with my shirt to remove most of my fingerprints—just in case.

I stand up and hurry to the door, prepared to open it and get the hell out of the museum before I get caught. However, the voices in the hallway have moved closer. I put my ear to the door and listen. It's Bob talking on the phone, he isn’t getting along with whoever it is, but I'm not surprised.

“Do what I say, and everything’ll be fine,” Bob says as he thunders past, the sound from his squeaky shoes growing fainter as he leaves.

I wait a minute to make sure he's gone. As I'm about to open the door to leave, I notice a couple of small boxes on the bench near the door. The small box on top has a fragile sticker on it, but no return address. I pick it up and sigh. It's addressed to me. The package had been there all along. I shove the small box into my jacket pocket and crack open the door. I quickly pop my head out to check if the coast is clear; there’s no one in sight. I slip out of the office and slowly close the door behind me.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I hurry to the front entrance and walk out of the museum. Then, as soon as I step outside and into the sunlight, my cellphone buzzes.

Can you meet for coffee later tonight? I have the evening free .

The text from Ben is a welcome distraction from today’s events. Despite starting to feel a bit emotionally and physically exhausted, I text Ben back confirming the details. Then rush to my car to go home and get ready for the date; a quick nap and then a shower. It’ll work wonders on the ever-growing bags under my eyes.

Despite knowing full well that I'm going to have to explain myself and discuss some uncomfortable truths about my past, I'm excited to see him. If I can get another one of those awesome hugs I’ve been reliving for days, all this effort would be more than worth it.