the switch to anthropology?”
“Archaeology is a subdiscipline of anthropology. I didn’t really switch, I just changed my focus.” She smiled a little. “Actually, I discovered that digging trenches, millimeter by millimeter, in search of a pottery shard wasn’t quite as glamorous as Harrison Ford had led me to believe, though it can be fascinating at times. I became more interested in physical anthropology, and one of my professors, who was also a forensic anthropologist, told my class a story once about a woman’s daughter who had been missing for more than twenty years. When the child’s remains were finally discovered and identified, the woman wrote Dr. Ellis a long letter, thanking him for bringing her daughter back home to her. For the first time in more than twenty years, the woman finally had peace. She no longer searched faces in malls or on crowded streets, wondering if one of them might be her daughter’s.” Erin paused. “I knew from that moment on, that’s what I wanted to do, too.”
“You’re lucky then. Some people never figure out what it is they want in life.”
She looked at him in surprise. “You don’t like being a detective?”
He shrugged. “I guess I never gave it much thought. It was expected of me. I come from a long line of cops. My father, my grandfather. Both my brothers.” He shrugged again. “It’s in my genes, I guess.”
Erin didn’t like to think about genes, about what propensities could be handed down from one generation to the next. Intellectually, she knew that environment played a huge part in the development of personality traits, and she thanked her mother for giving her a safe, sheltered childhood away from her father’s influence.
But she knew, too, that more and more was being discovered about heredity all the time, and that some experts now believed the tendency toward violent and criminal behavior could be passed on to a child from his or her parents. Whether Erin liked it or not, she also carried her father’s genes inside her, and she knew that that knowledge had played no insignificant role in her decision to become a forensic anthropologist. By giving back to society, she could somehow counteract the darkness that might be lurking inside her.
But that wasn’t a story for a police detective. She suspected Nick Gallagher wasn’t a man who trusted easily, and if they were going to work together on this case, it was essential they at least have faith in each other’s abilities.
He pulled into a space in the faculty parking lot near the George Augustine Building of Natural Sciences. The FAHIL lab and offices were in a new wing, a little over a year old, which jutted out from the original structure, giving it an ungainly look that was at odds with the quaint setting of the campus.
Nick and Erin got out of the car and walked up the steps to the front entrance. Erin removed her keys from her briefcase, but the door was unlocked. She glanced up at Nick, who was scowling.
“I thought you said this place was always kept locked.”
“The lab is, unless I’m inside working. But the cleaning crew has to have access to the main building, plus, the faculty offices are in here, as well as some classrooms.”
She led him down the deserted corridor, their footsteps echoing hollowly against the tile floor. The hallways in the original portion of the building were like a maze, and it had taken Erin several days to get her bearings when she first came here. She headed unfailingly now, however, to the door that would grant them access to the new wing.
It was unlocked, too, and before Erin could step inside, Nick moved in front of her.
Erin said quickly. “Someone’s probably working late. One of the staff—”
He silenced her with a look as he glided, ghostlike, along the dim corridor. Erin, shivering by this time, didn’t know what else to do but follow. The hair at the back of her neck rose as they crept along the hallway, Nick pausing now and then to check locked doors.
“How can we get to the lab from here?” he asked softly.
“We can’t. We have to take the elevator up to the third floor, where the FAHIL offices are located. There’s another elevator there that leads straight to the basement.”
He gave her a sharp look. “There’s no outside door to the lab?”
“There’s an emergency exit that’s kept locked,” she said. “It can be opened from the inside, and that’s where deliveries are handled. But someone has to be in the lab to disengage the lock.”
“There’s an alarm on the door, I assume.”
“Of course. The other entrance to the lab is from the hallway.”
“Who has a key?”
“I told you. Only the FAHIL staff.”
“What about Gloria Maynard?”
“Gloria?” For some reason, the fact that he remembered her secretary’s name annoyed Erin. So he hadn’t been quite as immune to the woman’s charms as he’d let on. “She doesn’t have a key to the lab, but I’ve let her use mine from time to time.”
He gave her a look, but Erin merely shrugged. “I’ve occasionally sent her down there to fetch something I needed for a class or consultation,” she explained. “She doesn’t particularly like going down there, so it doesn’t happen all that often.”
They were at the elevators now, and Erin pressed the button. As the car descended toward them, Nick pulled her back, shielding her with his body as the doors slid open.
“Look, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about,” she said as she moved around him and entered the elevator. “Obviously, someone is still here working.”
Nick didn’t say anything as he stepped into the elevator beside her. But his profile was rigidly set as he faced forward, and she wondered suddenly if he had a gun underneath his jacket.
Erin pushed the button for the third floor and the doors slid closed. The car gave a little lurch, scrambling her stomach, then slowly ascended.
When they got off on the third floor, Erin glanced around, uneasy in spite of herself. She’d never before noticed how dark the hallway was. There was one light at the far end, near the stairwell, but from the elevator down to her office, the corridor was dim and shadowy.
She’d worked late a lot of nights and never minded the poor lighting before. So why now, with a rugged police detective by her side, did gooseflesh prickle along her arms and neck as she and Nick walked down the hallway to her office?
Gloria’s office was directly past the elevator, in an open lobby area that serviced the entire FAHIL staff. Erin’s office was at the far end of the hallway, and as they approached her door, she became more and more apprehensive. What if her office had been broken into? What if sensitive files had been taken, cases compromised?
But when she tried her door, it was locked tight, and she let out a breath of relief. Inserting the key, she opened the door and reached inside to turn on the light, her gaze automatically scanning the interior.
Nothing was amiss. Her file cabinets were all secured, as were her desk drawers. She’d cleaned off the surface of her desk earlier, years of practice making her meticulous in putting away her work before she left for the day.
“Everything seems okay in here,” Nick said, gazing around. He turned back around to face her. “Let’s go have a look in the lab.”
She nodded. “I have to get my equipment together anyway, but I’m sure we’ll find it locked up tight, just like my office.”
He cut her another look, one that said, so far, he wasn’t all that impressed with Hillsboro’s security.
Erin frowned, feeling defensive but trying to subdue it. No use getting off on more of an adversarial footing with him than she already had. Still, if there was one area of her life where she felt secure, it was her work. She knew what she was doing, and she didn’t much care for someone challenging her competence.
After