A Thousand Tombs by Molly Greene Page A

now, try to find out.”
    “From a cop’s point of view, whoever looks like the bad guy usually is.” Mack’s voice had deteriorated to sarcastic.
    “Could be.” Gen matched his tone. “But I’m a good kid, too, so you’re going to have to trust me to figure it out, just like you want me to trust Luca.”
    Mack kept his expression neutral and his eyes on her, but he didn’t reply. Two beats later, he stood. “Lunch?”
    “Not today, but thanks,” Gen said. “I’ll see you out.”
    He reached for her when she came around the desk. She hesitated, then walked into his embrace and draped her arms around his waist. He hugged her and rested his cheek on top of her head.
    “Don’t let this be about you and me.”
    She stiffened. “Why do you say that?”
    “I get why you’re irritated. My house guest threw a wrench in the works.”
    Gen started to protest, but gave up. “Yeah, I was patient about it for what, three days? Now I miss you.”
    “You have me, I’m right here.”
    “You know what I mean, Mack.”
    “What I know is that this is only temporary. Come on, Genny. Have lunch with me. You need to laugh.”
    “Okay.” She picked up her purse. “You convinced me, but no shop talk.”
    “You’re on,” he said. “I’ll tell you about my class this weekend.”
    “Oh yeah? What, how to pick up strays?”
    “No.” He held her hand as they went down the hall. “I’m teaching an introductory welding class.” Mack opened the door for her, then waited on the sidewalk while she locked up.
    “I swear, Mack. What else can you do that you haven’t told me?”
    He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Time will reveal all.”
    “It better.”
    Mack laughed and gave her another hug. “There’s something else,” he said. “I’m having an exhibition of my metal work in a couple weeks. Will you do me the honor of attending with me?”
    “I’d love to,” Gen replied. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
    Mack opened the passenger side of his truck and held her elbow while she climbed in, then went around and angled himself behind the wheel.
    “That’s good,” he said. “Then it’s a date.”

Chapter Fourteen
     
     
    The Fine Arts Museum opened at ten o’clock on weekday mornings. On Friday, Gen was outside when the guard unlocked the huge double doors. “I have an appointment with Dr. Grayson,” she said.
    “The Curator’s office is down the main hall.” He pointed. “Left side. Her name is on a plaque on the wall.”
    “Thank you.”
    Her heels clicked out the kind of hollow echo only polished marble floors and cavernous rooms could create. She found the office easily enough and was about to knock when someone hailed her.
    “Miss Delacourt?”
    Her name echoed off the walls as she turned.
    The museum’s Curator of Antiquities was a petite woman wearing a polka-dot dress and a bowl-like haircut. She waved a greeting from farther down the hall.
    “I’m Ellen Grayson,” she continued. “And as usual, I’m in a rush and I need to multi-task while I pull something from the archives. Would you like to come with me? We can talk there.”
    “Sure.” Gen’s shoes clacked a staccato beat as she hurried to catch up. Ellen Grayson opened a door marked employees only and reached out to give Gen’s palm a shake with her free hand.
    “When I was in high school,” Gen said, “I thought I wanted to be an archaeologist.”
    “Did you? So did I. But I ultimately chose academia over working in the field. Did you pursue it?”
    “No, but when I was a senior I landed an internship at a Los Angeles museum. When I got up close and personal with how the process worked, I came to my senses and realized I didn’t have the temperament for it.”
    “What tasks were you assigned during your internship?”
    “Nothing glamorous,” Gen replied. “No doubt the technology has changed a lot. Back then I helped hand-record the coming and going of artifacts. And I dusted the shelves.”
    “We