Tess Gerritsen - The Keepsake

“Is someone driving you home this afternoon?” he asked.

He hesitated in the doorway, as though afraid to step into her space, afraid that approaching any closer might be forbidden. Days before, Detective Frost had briefed the museum staff on security, and had shown them the photo of Bradley Rose, digitally aged to replicate the passage of two decades. Since Josephine’s return, the staff had been treating her like fragile goods, politely keeping their distance. No one was comfortable working around a victim.

And I’m not comfortable being one.

“I just wanted to make sure you’ve got a ride home,” said Robinson. “Because if you don’t, I’d be happy to drive you.”

“Detective Frost is coming to get me at six.”

“Oh. Of course.” He lingered in the doorway as though he had something else to say, but did not have the nerve to speak. “I’m glad you’re back” was all he managed before he turned to leave.

“Nicholas?”

“Yes?”

“I owe you an explanation. About a number of things.”

Although he stood only a few feet away, she found it hard to meet his gaze. Never before had he made her feel so uncomfortable. He was one of the few people with whom she usually felt at ease, because they inhabited the same esoteric little corner of the universe and shared the same unlikely passion for obscure facts and amusing oddities. Of all the people she’d deceived, she felt the most guilty about Nicholas, because he, more than anyone, had tried the hardest to be a friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” she said, and gave a sad shake of the head. “In fact, most of what you know about me is a lie. Starting with-”

“Your name isn’t really Josephine,” he said softly.

Startled, she looked up at him. Before, when their gazes met, he would often look away, flustered. This time, his gaze was absolutely steady.

“When did you find out?” she asked.

“After you left town and I couldn’t reach you, I got worried. I called Detective Rizzoli, and that’s when I learned the truth.” He flushed. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I called your university. I wondered if maybe…”

“If you’d hired a complete fraud.”

“It was wrong of me to invade your privacy, I know.”

“No, it was exactly what you should have done, Nicholas. You had every reason to check my credentials.” She sighed. “That’s the only thing I have been honest about. I’m surprised you let me come back to work. You never said a thing about it.”

“I was waiting for the right moment. Waiting until you felt ready to talk. Are you?”

“It sounds like you already know everything you need to.”

“How could I, Josephine? I feel as if I’m just getting to know you now. All the things you told me about your childhood-your parents-”

“I lied, okay?” Her response was more curt than she’d intended, and she saw him flush. “I had no choice,” she added quietly.

He came into her office and sat down. So many times before he had settled into that same chair, with his morning cup of coffee, and they would happily chat about the latest artifact they’d dug out of the basement or the obscure little detail that one of them had managed to track down. This was not to be one of those pleasant chats.

“I can only imagine how betrayed you feel,” she said.

“No. It’s not that so much.”

“Disappointed at the very least.”

His nod was painful to see, because it confirmed the gulf between them. As if to emphasize the breach, a crack of thunder split the silence.

She blinked away tears. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“What disappoints me most,” he said, “is that you didn’t trust me. You could have told me the truth, Josie. And I would have stood up for you.”

“How can you say that, when you don’t know everything about me?”

“But I know you. I don’t mean the superficial things like what name you call yourself or which towns you’ve lived in. I know what you care about and what matters to you. And that gets more to the heart of a person than whether or not your name is really Josephine. That’s what I came to say.” He took a deep breath.

“And…something else, too.”

“Yes?”

He looked down at his suddenly tense hands. “I was wondering if, um…do you like movies?”

“Yes, I-of course.”

“Oh, that’s good. That’s really-that’s splendid! I’m afraid I don’t keep track of what’s playing, but this week there must be something that’s suitable. Or maybe next week.” He cleared his throat. “I can be counted on to get you home safely, and at a reasonable-”

“Nicholas, there you are,” said Debbie Duke, appearing in the doorway. “We have to leave now, or the shipping office will close.”

He glanced up at her. “What?”

“You promised you’d help me bring that crate over to the shipping office in Revere. It’s going to London and I need to deal with the customs forms. I’d do it myself but it weighs over fifty pounds.”

“Detective Frost hasn’t come for Josephine yet. I hate to leave.”

“Simon and Mrs. Willebrandt are here and all the doors are locked.”

He looked at Josephine. “You said he’s coming to get you at six? That’s not for another hour.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Josephine.

“Come on, Nick,” said Debbie. “This thunderstorm’s going to slow down traffic. We need to leave now.”

He stood and followed Debbie out of the office. As their descending footsteps echoed in the stairwell, Josephine sat at her desk, still startled by what had just happened.

Did Nicholas Robinson just try to ask me out on a date?

Thunder rocked the building and the lights briefly dimmed, as if the heavens had just answered her question. Yes, he did.

She gave an amazed shake of her head and looked down at the stack of old accession ledgers. They contained the handwritten lists of antiquities that the museum had acquired through the decades, and she had been slowly making her way down that list, locating each item and assessing its condition. Once again, she tried to focus on the task, but her mind drifted back to Nicholas.

Do you like movies?

She smiled. Yes. And I like you, too. I always have.

She opened a book from decades before and recognized Dr. William Scott-Kerr’s microscopic handwriting. These ledgers were a lasting record of each curator’s tenure, and she’d noted the changing handwriting as old curators left and new ones arrived. Some, like Dr. Scott-Kerr, had been with the museum for decades, and she imagined them growing old along with the collection, walking the creaky floors past specimens that over time would have seemed as familiar as old friends. Here was the record of Scott-Kerr’s reign, recorded in his sometimes cryptic notations.

– Megaladon tooth, details of collection unk. Donated by Mr. Gerald DeWitt.

– Clay jar handles, stamped with winged sun disks. Iron Age. Collected at Nebi Samwil by Dr. C. Andrews.

– Silver coin, probably 3rd CBC, stamped with Parthenope and man-headed bull on reverse. Naples. Purchased from private collection Dr. M. Elgar.

The silver coin was currently on display in the first-floor gallery, but she had no idea where the clay jar handles were located. She made a note to herself to hunt them down, and turned the page, to find the next three items listed as a group.

– Various bones, some human, some equine.

– Metallic fragments, possibly remnants of pack animal harness.

– Fragment of dagger blade, possibly Persian. 3rd C.BC, Collected by S. Crispin near Siwa Oasis, Egypt.

She looked at the date and froze at her desk. Though thunder crackled outside, she was more aware of the thudding of her own heart. Siwa Oasis. Simon was in the western desert, she thought. The same year my mother was there.