Mariah Stewart - Last Breath

“For someone not used to that sort of pace, I can see where it would be distressing.” Mia nodded. “But one thing I’ve learned over the years, it all passes, sooner or later. One case ends, the next one begins.”

“How long have you been in the FBI?”

“I was in for nine years. I left the Bureau about a month ago.” Mia began to fidget, picking at the paper label on her bottle of root beer.

“Were you just tired of it, or…” Daria wasn’t sure how to continue, or if she should.

“Tired of it in the sense that I’d seen enough bad stuff to last a lifetime or two.” Mia took a long drink from the bottle. “Or three. It just got to me after a while. All the suffering. All the terrible things people do to one another. I just had to step back from it for a time.”

“Do you think you’ll go back?”

“To the Bureau?” Mia shook her head. “No. But I will stay in law enforcement.”

“In what capacity?”

“I’m applying for a job as a small-town cop,” Mia said, grinning, “in a little town on Maryland ’s Eastern Shore.”

“After years with the FBI, will that be too slow a pace for you?”

“Nah. I love the town, and I am so ready for that change. Besides, the chief of police is a hunk.”

“Oh.” Daria laughed. “I guess that’s incentive.”

“More than enough.” Mia gathered the paper scraps and rose to take them and the empty bottle to the kitchen. “Can I bring you anything?”

“No, thanks, Mia. The sandwich was just enough.”

“I’ll bring the cookies back, just in case.”

Mia stepped over Sweet Thing on her way out of the room. The dog had planted herself in the doorway like a furry sentinel, as if to say, You’ll have to go through me to get to Daria, and Daria took some comfort knowing her canine companion was on guard duty. Of course, the fact that Mia was armed added to Daria’s comfort level.

All at once, Sweet Thing rose, a deep growl beginning somewhere deep inside like thunder, her gaze fixed on the door.

“It’s okay, girl, it’s me,” Connor called to the dog as he came through the kitchen. “Good girl.”

He paused in the doorway to pet the dog and praise her. “Way to be on the case, Sweet Thing.”

To Daria, he said, “How are you feeling? Head still throbbing?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Not as bad as yesterday, though.”

“Did you take the medication the doctor gave you?”

“Not yet, but I will. I didn’t want to fall asleep on Mia. She’s been so nice.”

“Yeah, she has her moments.” Connor lifted Daria’s legs by the crossed ankles and sat on the ottoman at her feet.

“I heard that.” Mia came into the room, carrying a plate with a sandwich wrapped in butcher’s paper and a plastic container. “We got you roast beef on rye and some potato salad. Pull that table closer, Con.”

He did as he was told and Mia placed everything on the table for him.

“Can I get you a beer?”

“No, thanks, Mia. I have a meeting in about ten minutes on the other side of campus. I really appreciate you thinking of me when it came to food.”

“We found a really great deli on our way back from the hospital. It’s right down there in the middle of town, so we stopped for sandwiches. Neither Daria nor I felt like having a large meal tonight.” Mia turned to Daria. “Would you like me to get your meds for you now? You must be ready to take something for the pain.”

“I probably am,” Daria admitted and started to get up. “But I can get it.”

“You stay put. I don’t mind.” Mia started toward the door.

“Hey, this is a side of you I’ve never seen before. I like it. I’ve never seen you wait on anyone before.”

“It’s a whole new me,” Mia told him as she left the room. “It’s living the small-town life, what can I say?”

“She was just telling me she’d left the FBI,” Daria said.

Connor nodded. “She needed to do that. She’d seen too much in too few years. It was time for her to move on, maybe find some peace in her life.”

“Do you think she will?”

“I think she has. She’s looking forward to starting a new job in the fall-maybe she’s told you about that?”

When Daria nodded, he continued. “Got herself a new guy, a great guy. I think she’s going to be okay.”

“I hope so. I like her a lot.”

“Yeah, she’s all right.”

Daria could tell by the way he said it that he thought his cousin was more than just all right.

He unwrapped the sandwich and began to eat.

“Anything new to tell me?” she asked.

Connor finished chewing, swallowed, and said, “I stopped at the library after I left the hospital and had a chat with the local chief of police.”

Daria listened intently as Connor filled her in on how the killer had gotten the people in the library to leave.

“Wasn’t there a real guard there?” Mia asked as she came back into the room with a small tray.

“Yes, but he’d gone into the basement to check on an open door and was bashed over the head,” Connor told her.

“Was he killed?” she asked.

“No, just knocked out for a while, much like Daria. Though he had a few more stitches than she does,” he replied.

“At least he’s alive. How’d the door get opened?”

“That’s one thing I can’t find an easy explanation for. There’s no way to jimmy it from outside. I have to think someone on the inside either left it open by accident-maybe went out by the back door and didn’t close it all the way-or someone deliberately opened it for the killer.”

“Which means an accomplice.”

“There has to be more than one person working this thing. I’m seeing two, maybe three.”

“Like some kind of ring.” Mia bit the cuticle on one finger. “Have you given any thought to this being an organized theft operation? You know, stealing valuable artifacts to resell them to other collectors?”

“Why would they target these specific artifacts?” Daria asked.

“Because they’re very rare-didn’t you say the things in the museum basement are the only known artifacts from Shandihar?” Mia asked. “If you’re going to steal to sell on the black market, why not steal the stuff that’s going to bring you the greatest return for your effort?”

“It feels like more than a simple theft,” Daria told her. “You have these ritualistic killings. Whoever is behind this knows the Shandiharan culture well enough to know how they punished people they felt had committed some sort of transgression. That greatly limits the pool of suspects.”

“Could be a combination of both, though,” Connor said thoughtfully. “Maybe someone with inside knowledge who’s out to make a killing-no pun intended-on the black market. But at this point, I think we need to consider all possibilities.”

Mia set the small metal tray on the table she’d earlier pulled over for Connor. “I hope you don’t mind me going through the kitchen cupboards, but I thought if I could find a little tray, I could bring everything in at the same time.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m grateful for your help.”

“Here’s a bottle of water for you”-she handed it to Connor-“and here’s one for you, Daria, along with those painkillers you’ve been avoiding. I can tell by the expression on your face that you’re not very comfortable right now.”

“I should probably take them now.” Daria reached for the small orange container Mia held out to her.

“In other news, I had a chat with Stefano Korban a little while ago,” Connor said.

“He’s the archaeologist on the faculty here?” Daria popped the pills into her mouth and swallowed them with some water.

“Right. Daria, what do you know about Sabina Bokhari?”