Page 109 of Disturbing the Dead
He shakes his head. “I don’t. I… I know I may have seemed underwhelmed by your return, and I only wanted to be clear that I was in shock. You are back, and if this is what you chose, then while I know that will be painful, I… May I say I am happy to see you?”
My smile breaks through at the same time that my eyes fill with tears. “You may. I would give you a hug, but I know that’s not done—”
He gathers me up in an embrace before I can finish, lifting me clear off the floor in a fierce hug before setting me down again.
“There,” he says. “Now, while Isla and my mother would say I should insist you talk about what you have endured and what you are feeling, I do not see the point in demanding someone unburden themselves for their own good. If you wish to talk…”
“I don’t. Not now. If I start, I might end up in a puddle of tears, grieving for my grandmother and also for my parents and yet relieved that I actually made it back and—”
Deep breaths as my heart speeds up. “Nope. Pull me back from the abyss, Gray. Preferably with coffee.” My stomach growls. “And food. Apparently, I haven’t eaten in a while. I should also speak to Isla.”
“She is out, but I will get food and let the others know you are awake. Would you like me to keep them at bay?”
“For a while, please.”
“Coffee and whisky? Or just coffee?”
I smile up at him. “I won’t say no to whisky if the doctor recommends it.”
“He does.”
I’m back, and it is as if I never left. Or it is once I can fully immerse myself in the case, telling Gray what we’d seen in the papers about Selim and the theory Mom and I came up with, that whoever stole the artifacts—presumably Muir—was framing Selim by spreading word that the seller was the Egyptian brother-in-law of an archaeologist.
Once I’m lost in that, I forget that I left, and even when I remember, I’m reminded that I got to see my grandmother and tell my parents where I am, and that releases a knot I’d been holding inside for six months. I said goodbye to Nan. She doesn’t think I abandoned her. Mom and Dad hadn’t spent six months dealing with Catriona’s treachery. All that is settled. Yet when I feel relief, guilt chases it.
I left my parents behind. Willingly left them. Their only child, gone, right when they also lost Nan. I abandoned my job and my friends and left my parents with the cleanup for a daughter they might never see again.
So, yep, it’s really easier to focus on the case. I’ll have to deal with the rest, but I will do so the way I dealt with first coming here. Let reality and the emotional turmoil of that reality slowly settle over me, rather than immersing myself in it.
As for someone framing Selim for the antiquity theft, McCreadie has already considered that. When I’d discussed it with Mom, I’d gotten enough distance to realize that, as tips went, the one I got from the underground-market seller was a little on-the-nose. The Selim I met was a well-educated, savvy young man. Would he steal Egyptian artifacts to repatriate? Possibly. Might he even sell the least valuable for a bit of extra cash? Possibly. He’s young, and ideals don’t buy a round at the pub.
But would he tell his buyers that his brother-in-law was an archaeologist? There are ways to explain where the artifacts came from and prove they’re legit without basically handing the buyer a card saying, “Selim Awad, brother-in-law to Sir Alastair Christie.”
What kept McCreadie from following up was the fact that, well, Selim really did seem to have stolen the artifacts. Mrs. Wallace and I were in the tunnel looking for them when he attacked us.
He wasn’t just spotted by Lord Muir—McCreadie would have found that suspicious. He’d also left fresh boot prints that matched the footwear we’d taken after he was found unconscious in the tunnels after Sir Alastair’s murder. Moreover, Selim isn’t around to provide an alibi or explanation. Except for being spotted allegedly fleeing the tunnel, he hasn’t been seen since the night after Sir Alastair’s murder, when he disappeared from the house and didn’t return.
“At least we know he’s alive,” I say as we sit in Gray’s office, with coffee, whisky, and an assortment of cold meats and cheeses and bread. “The future articles say he went to trial, and they wouldn’t have tried and convicted him in absentia.”
“Hmm.”
I think Gray’s going to argue the point. Would it be possible to frame a random young Egyptian man and say it was Selim? Then I realize what he’s really thinking.
“Just because Selim had survived to be hanged doesn’t mean he’ll stay alive now that I’m back to send the investigation after Muir,” I say. “You said the police are hunting for Selim?”
“Yes, Hugh is with them, in hopes that nothing goes wrong.”
By “goes wrong” he means that McCreadie will ensure that Selim is alive and well when he’s arrested.
“It would be helpful to know where he was found, but all my father could locate was the crime and verdict. Digging deeper would have meant a trip to the archives. Which I suppose I should have done but…” I shrug. “My grandmother made me promise not to look up spoilers.”
“Spoilers?”
I sip my coffee. “Anything that could predict the future. What eventually happens to you, Isla, Hugh… There are things I shouldn’t know, and if I came back, things I shouldn’t share. She did find you, though. In the history books.”
“Along with my date of death, I presume, which is exactly the sort of thing she didn’t want you seeing.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Now that I’ve returned, you’ll die much sooner.”
