Page 157 of Her Reluctant Hero
“They’re only books.”
“You know what they meant to him.”
“I know.”
“It’s insult to injury. Was he studying when he died? Is that why they’re like this?”
“I don’t know, Mal. We’ll never know. Is there anything that isn’t damaged?” He dropped his hand and leaned to look in the trunk, pulled out a stack of books and placed them on the cot. “The ones at the bottom aren’t so bad. Look, here’sThe Cordemex.”
She almost smiled as she took the big leather-bound book from him, ran her hand across it. “My dad gave him this.”
Ah, geez, how could he have forgotten that her connection with the man went back even farther than his own? Even though she hadn’t worked with Robert in years, she had worked with him longer, loved him longer.
She widened her eyes. “What? I’m okay.” Since he wouldn’t stop looking at her, she leaned forward to rummage through the trunk. “Anything else in there?”
Adrian pulled out a couple more texts, on the bottom given that Robert didn’t use them as much, but the professor hated to travel unprepared for any possibility. Removing the last book from the box was disappointing, like after opening gifts on Christmas morning, only to not get what you wanted.
“Where’s his dig journal?” Mallory asked.
“What?” Adrian had just dropped a book on top of another book with a thud and hadn’t heard.
“His dig journal. The one I saw him using the other night was red, with kind of a paisley design.”
He sorted through the books even though he knew he hadn’t seen it. He swore. If someone had killed Robert, that person had his notes. It could be the same person who had taken his manuscript. How much time had passed between his room being ransacked and Robert’s death? Had the killer used his notes to find the camp?
“He always had it with him.” Panic tightened her voice, making her movements jerky as she looked around the tent.
Adrian reached out a hand. “It’s not here.”
Her eyes, when she turned her attention to him, were wild. “Someone took it.”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “To see what we were up to? I don’t know.” It was too late now anyway. His secret was out. He eased back on his heels. “What do you want to do with the ruined ones?”
She sighed and trailed her fingers over the spines, reading the titles. “They’ll mildew in no time. We’d better burn them.”
He knew what that cost her and wanted to touch her, let her know he understood. But she stood abruptly, bumping the cot, and the books he’d stacked there fell to the sand.
A scrap of cloth tumbled out from between the spines. With it, a piece of delicately carved ivory.
A familiar piece of delicately carved ivory. Adrian’s blood went cold.
Mallory crouched, picked it up carefully with the cloth and inspected it before looking at him.
“What is it?”
“It’s from the Tunisia dig.” And had no business being here.
