Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Eliana inserted her card into the punch slot and clocked in, alone in the hallway behind the employee entrance to the Shrine. The empty hall descended into an odd kind of silence, and she took a second to think about what was off.
Carolena wasn’t rushing by her, late for a meeting. That was the most benign reason she could think of.
The rest had far too much to do with murder, scary religious groups, and everything else that had happened recently.
She pulled out her phone and flipped it open, typing out a text to Carlos.
No protesters outside today. Everything seems quiet.
She hit Send and tucked the phone in the slot on the front strap of her tiny backpack purse. Little slices of normalcy in the middle of a whole lot of serious chaos. Normalcy and new—checking in with him. Being friends.
But it didn’t seem right that things were peaceful. This was more like a wave receding from the shore, pulling all the way back before crashing forward again.
She was still reeling from the last wave, and even two days off hadn’t really helped.
Not when she had no unanswered questions.
Carlos had gone to the police station for a meeting about the canisters they suspected had been at least partially filled with Elysium, the drug mixed with other substances.
Things could have been a whole lot worse.
The news media had been repeating that phrase over and over, instructing victims to call a 1-800 number to register themselves to receive compensation. Meanwhile, Eliana’s dreams had morphed into running from a lawyer, as if that made any sense.
She headed for Sylvia’s office while trying not to run into anyone or get tasked with rounds in one of the wings before she was ready to start her shift. That was why she’d come in a little early—so she could talk to Sylvia, find her knife, and then Tony could pull her into the briefing.
Right now, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to talk to him, but with him being her supervisor, she couldn’t really avoid it.
Knowing she could get into the vault in her own right set them on a completely new footing.
He didn’t have access while she was restricted from entering the vault.
They were on more even scales at this point, but still, if he wanted to fire her, he could.
She wasn’t sure how to play this new balance of power.
He’d attacked her, and he needed her to keep Shrine secrets, so she had some leverage.
Too bad she was terrible at that kind of politicking.
That was part of the reason she hadn’t figured out a plan yet.
Eliana knocked on Sylvia’s door. She wanted the director to tell her where everything stood with the thieves and the vault. All of it.
She looked up at the camera.
It didn’t turn to her.
Eliana tried the handle, and it wasn’t locked, so she ducked her head in. Sylvia’s office was empty. No papers out on her desk. It looked more like it had been thoroughly tidied before the occupant went away for a few days.
Where was Director Caughton?
Fine. Eliana would have to go down in the elevator and get her knife.
Her radio crackled on her belt. “Adams, come back.”
She still wasn’t used to responding to a new name, even after months—and probably especially after this week.
She lifted the handset and squeezed the button on the side.
“Go ahead for Adams.” As she talked, she headed back to the same stairs she’d come up.
The window at the end of the hall let sunlight in that reflected off the waxed floor, making her want to go stand over there so she could feel the warmth on her face for a moment.
“Couple of cops down here to talk to you. They’re at the front desk.”
“Any idea where the director is?” Eliana asked.
The respondent—which she thought might be Miller but wasn’t sure—came back with, “Dealing with an absent scientist. What do you want me to tell these detectives?”
“I’ll be right there.” She stowed her radio on her belt and went down to the ground floor, pushing open the heavy door to the public side of the building, just off the lobby.
Walking through it just reminded her of people fighting each other and seeing that stroller left unattended by two women who thought slapping each other was more important than the safety of a child.
But anyone under the influence of what had been in those canisters hadn’t been in control of their actions. She’d seen it with her own eyes when Carlos had tried to kill that officer in her neighbors’ apartment. With no idea why she hadn’t been affected, she had more questions than answers.
About so many things.
Two detectives stood by the reception desk, the same two who had shown up to investigate the death of Doctor Splitfield. Now there had been a second murder, but she didn’t know what that had to do with her—except proximity.
The female detective, who wore a purple suit, white shirt, and purple bow tie and had her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, lifted her chin in Eliana’s direction. The male detective turned and watched her approach. He wore a gray suit and red tie, and had a shaved head.
“You wanted to see me?”
They flashed badges. The female said, “I’m Detective Raquel Maloney. This is Jim Wallace. We’re investigating Doctor Splitfield’s death. Got a few minutes, Ms. Adams?”
There weren’t many people in the lobby, but the guests who were there definitely noticed her chatting with two cops. Behind the desk, the receptionist moved papers around while she listened intently.
“Let’s find somewhere quiet.” Eliana tipped her head, then led them to the employee break room. She closed the door behind them all. “You guys want to sit?”
“We’ll cut to the chase.” Detective Maloney moved to the round table but didn’t sit. Instead, she stood there with her arms folded. “We know who you are, Ms. Banbury.”
Eliana frowned. “Enough to know that’s not my last name.”
“So you hyphen, whatever.” Maloney waved a hand.
“If you looked me up, you could probably get it right. My last name has never been Banbury. It’s Jaxton.”
“We’ll make sure we get it right on the paperwork.” Maloney had a pinched look on her face.
Because Eliana had pointed out a mistake? “Just trying to get started on the right footing. Honesty and full disclosure.” She got a water bottle from the fridge and offered one to both of them.
Wallace took one, but Maloney shook her head.
Eliana twisted off the cap of hers. “What do you want to know?”
Maloney said nothing.
Wallace took a sip of water first. “Pretty coincidental a guy being killed in this museum, and then another in exactly the same way in the building where you live.”
Eliana was pretty sure that coincidence was the least of her worries right now. “Do you have any idea who killed them?”
Maloney’s expression shifted. “We were hoping you’d be able to tell us.”
“Isn’t it your job to figure that out?”
“Sure, it is,” Maloney said. “By asking questions of people who find themselves tangled up in the situation.”
“I found Doctor Splitfield, that’s all. Director Caughton told me to look for him, even though he never clocked out. Or in.” She couldn’t remember which. “How was I to know I’d find him like that?”
Wallace took another sip of his water, assessing her but saying nothing.
Maloney said, “Any idea who might have done that to him and your neighbor?”
“Honestly, I doubt they’re connected.” Eliana dragged out a chair that had been tucked under the table and sat.
“Even if they were killed in the same manner, it seemed more like what Carlos—Officer Ryson—saw on the app when he looked at it. He said the app told him to hurt someone in a very specific way. That way.”
“Why would that mean it was someone else?” Wallace had finally asked a question.
“Splitfield and the Dreamer didn’t run in the same circles. They don’t have the same enemies—how could they? And whoever got into this museum wasn’t the kind of person who’d be seen dead in a building like mine. Unless someone was paid to do it.”
Maloney shifted. “So you have been thinking about it. But you haven’t come up with a theory better than any others.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“No offense…” Maloney hesitated.
Eliana got the distinct impression that she was about to be offended.
“But that isn’t really stellar police work. You still have no idea who killed either of them. You don’t have any suspects. You just have a couple of ideas about who might’ve done it.”
Eliana leaned back in the chair. “I had the impression that cops didn’t want civilians doing police work for them. Making them look bad.”
“I don’t think there’s any danger you’ll make us look bad.” Maloney smirked. “But at least you tried.”
Eliana shrugged one shoulder. “I probably just need to put more effort into it.”
Wallace shifted his weight, an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“So you do want to follow in your parents’ footsteps.” Maloney seemed so convinced she knew how things were.
Eliana wasn’t going to try to alter Maloney’s preconceived notions, so she stood. “I have to get back to work. Unless you need any actual information from me.”
“We needed to know where you’re at with this. Since you keep finding yourself in the middle of things.” Maloney glanced at her watch.
“Seems like you can decide for yourselves what I think just fine. You don’t need my help with that.” She went to the door.
“Ms. Jaxton,” Wallace called out.
She tossed her empty water bottle in the trash and turned back to him. “Something else?”
“When was the last time you saw or heard from Carolena Diaz?”
Eliana flinched. “Why Carolena?”
“Just answer the question,” Maloney said.