Page 29 of Where Secrets Lie

Hez paused to drink in the sight of Savannah as he walked into the president’s office. The morning sun streaming through the mullioned windows brought out gold highlights in her auburn hair and warm tones in the old wood of the library table she used as a desk. She wore a cream blouse and a green blazer that matched her eyes. A picture of a tuxedo-clad younger version of himself on their wedding day grinned at him from the middle of a collection of photos on the credenza. Would a new version of that picture ever take its place?

Doubt clouded Hez’s heart after the counseling session last night. The old helpless despair in her face as she described her mother’s losing battle with addiction made him want to sweep her into his arms and comfort her. But the fear and pain etched deep into her soul were beyond his power to heal.

He would have faced an uphill battle even without the trauma of her childhood. As Jimmy had pointed out, Savannah’s lack of trust was entirely logical. Hez was an alcoholic, mostalcoholics relapsed, and she found a wine bottle in his trash. Ergo, the only rational conclusion was that he had relapsed. His denials only meant that he was probably a liar in addition to being a drunk. Rehashing things on the pier hadn’t gotten him very far. Dredging up her feelings had taken everything she had.

He really had only one hope of proving otherwise: catch whoever planted the bottle. His gut told him the same person was at the heart of the corruption threatening TGU. And with luck, the trap he and the Justice Chamber had laid was about to catch them.

“Excuse me,” Jess said from behind him.

“Sorry.” He stepped into the office and out of her way. “I was just admiring the view.”

Savannah’s smile was tired but warm. “Are you buttering me up to ask for something? If so, the answer is yes.”

“Nope.” Hez sat in one of the chairs opposite Savannah and Jess settled in the other. “In fact, I come bearing a gift: the smuggling operation on a silver platter.”

Jess twisted in her seat to look at him. “Smuggling operation? Do we even have proof that’s still going on?”

Hez nodded. “The students in the Justice Chamber have done a really terrific job of connecting the dots. They found smuggled artifacts listed for sale by art galleries, including at least one with a fake TGU provenance letter dated after Beckett’s arrest.”

Jess frowned. “Are you sure? Every time I go down to the beach or out on the bay, I see cops and Coast Guard. How can smugglers possibly get through?”

“They’re using a new route. Instead of bringing in shipments by sea, they’re smuggling them in semitrailers loaded withlegitimate cargoes. Drug-sniffing dogs don’t notice anything, of course, and the artifacts are usually small enough that they can be hidden from a visual inspection.”

Jess arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Can you prove any of this? What evidence do you have?”

Hez hesitated for a moment. Jess had zeroed in on his weak point. “We have an anonymous source.”

That didn’t satisfy Jess, of course. “What kind of source? A smuggler? Someone in an art gallery?”

Hez grimaced. Jess would have made a good lawyer. She had a natural gift for cross-examination. “I don’t know. The source talked to one of the Justice Chamber volunteers and insisted on confidentiality.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “This sounds like a college prank.”

Hez smiled. “The DA’s office disagrees. So did Judge Hopkins.”

Jess’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“I presented our evidence to the DA. The source had enough corroborating details to persuade them. They went to the judge and got a warrant.”

Jess stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “If you’re wrong, this will be a huge embarrassment for the university.”

Hez shrugged. “We’ll know tomorrow. The source says a shipment is coming through in the middle of the night. There’s going to be a surprise party waiting for them.”

For the first time in Hez’s memory, Jess was speechless. He savored the moment. And really hoped she was wrong.

Chapter 17

The pale moonlight outlined the edges of the shrubs and trees with silver. Savannah crouched with Hez behind a sprawling wax myrtle bush a couple of miles from Elberta, and the bayberry scent from the crushed leaves wafted to her nose. The temperature had plunged into the thirties, and her foggy breaths blended with Hez’s. She could make out the outlines of police cars, engines idling and lights off, on either side of the crossroad. Hez’s car was parked a quarter mile away to allow the police to make full use of the scant cover.

Hez slipped his arm around her and pulled her closer. “You’re cold. You should have stayed in the car where it’s warm. We have no idea how long this might take. The semi is supposed to show up around one, but it could take longer.”

His whispered breath warmed her ear. She snuggled against his warm bulk and inhaled the faint scent of his soap and cologne. “I wanted to help you listen and watch, and when the police start pulling out statues and other pieces, I’ll be able to tell if they’re artifacts.” So far all she’d heard was the bleat of a goat at a nearby farm and the low growl of the police engines keeping the officers warm.

His fingers squeezed her upper arm, and she relished theunspoken approval. After their counseling session, she’d been more determined than ever to try to get past this fear lurking inside. She couldn’t let this second chance with Hez slip away because of childhood trauma. She had her first counseling session with Melissa Morris tomorrow.

Headlights appeared in the distance, and she held her breath when the vehicle rumbled closer. The sound of the big diesel engine told her it was a semi hauling a trailer even before she could pick out the details of the truck. “Just like you said,” she whispered against his ear.

He nodded and they watched it pull to the stop sign. A police car pulled in front of it and another one blocked the back. Officers spilled from the vehicles, and one of them yanked open the driver’s door. “Out,” he said.

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