Duncan kept his gun pointed at his companion. He didn’t intend to shoot the con man. But he sensed Jacques knew more about the coin than he was willing to admit. Obviously, he needed . . . inspiration to share his full range of knowledge.
“How did you know they were found together?”
Jacques licked his lips, using the magnifying glass to point toward the vessel on his desk. “The symbols along the top of the vase.”
“What about them?”
“I’m no expert, but I suspect that they describe the purpose of the coin.”
Duncan furrowed his brow, considering his words. “Like an instruction manual?”
“Exactly. And here ...” The magnifying glass lowered to point toward the odd bird sketched into the stone. “It matches the hieroglyph etched on the coin. It can’t be a coincidence. Together the pair would be almost priceless.”
Duncan stiffened, abruptly realizing what had been nagging at him since he’d walked into Calso’s office and caught sight of the ancient vessel.
“A pair,” he breathed softly.
Jacques shrugged. “That’s what I just said.”
“So why would somebody take the coin and leave behind the vessel it came in?”
“No collector would,” Jacques instantly denied. “Apart they’re extremely valuable. Together ...” He set the picture next to the vase, emphasizing their matching symbols. “As I said. Priceless.”
Duncan had already ruled out robbery as a reason for the murder. A thief didn’t leave behind millions in artwork, let alone a stack of untraceable bills.
Now he had to rule out an obsessed antiquities collector.
Which left . . .
More goddamn questions than answers.
The realization had just struck when he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Stepping back, he holstered his gun before pulling out the phone and pressing it to his ear.
It would be a pity to shoot one of his best informants just because he didn’t like the latest news.
And he didn’t doubt for a minute he wasn’t going to like it.
“O’Conner,” he snapped, stiffening as he heard the dispatcher’s unsteady voice telling him that Leah’s body had been found. Again. “Where?” He made a mental note of the directions. “I’ll be there. Contact Valhalla.”
Replacing the phone in his pocket, Duncan reached to grasp the vessel and picture from the desk.
Jacques had turned a peculiar shade of ash, his suave French facade shattered by a surge of genuine fear.
“What the hell? You didn’t tell me that this has something to do with the freaks.”
Duncan turned and headed for the door. “I need the names of dealers who could move these items and I need them fast.”
“I don’t want to get involved with high-bloods,” the con man protested, his voice approaching a screech. “They’re nothing but trouble.”
Duncan spared a glance over his shoulder. “Not nearly as much trouble as disappointing me.”
Confident the man understood the cost of failure, Duncan headed across the showroom, his expression dark enough to keep the hovering assistant at a safe distance.
Then, getting into his car, he raced out of town at a speed that would make his ma faint.
He had to do something to vent his simmering frustration.
Okay, maybe the morning hadn’t been a complete waste. He’d discovered the vessel and coin were unmistakably connected and that they had been crafted by the ancient Sumerians.
But the information didn’t give him a direct path to Zakhar, which he needed if he was going to help Callie.
And now he was headed to collect the body of a young female who should have been protected by the police, if not while she was alive, then most certainly after she was dead.
Was it any wonder his foot was a little heavy on the accelerator?
Arriving at the remote location east of town, he parked his car on the bluff and made his way cautiously down to the muddy bank of the Missouri River.
He was immediately hit by the stench of brackish water and green slime that had collected in a small pool that was blocked from the river by a pile of rotting logs. His grimace, however, was for the young woman who was stretched on the mud. She’d clearly been dumped in the river in the hopes her body would float far enough away that she wouldn’t be connected to Kansas City.
Instead she’d gotten caught on the logs.
Another surge of frustration flared through him. Dammit. Leah should be shopping with her friends. Or attending college. Or hell, dancing at the Rabbit Hutch, making old men pop little blue pills in the hope they might get lucky.
Anything but lying in the mud with her eyes staring blindly at the cloudless sky.
Turning his attention from the body, Duncan frowned at the sight of Frank with a crowd of uniformed police standing several feet away. Why the hell wasn’t the silver-haired coroner processing the body? Were they waiting on something? Or someone?
At his approach Frank stepped away from the other cops, his expression hard. “O’Conner. About damned time you got here.”
Duncan sighed. Knowing the older man as well as he did, he had no doubt Frank took the theft and abuse of Leah’s body personally.
“Who found her?”
Frank jerked a thumb toward the large man standing at the top of the bluff, his beefy face flushed with adrenaline.
“A local farmer. He was searching for a missing cow.”
“He’s been warned not to speak to anyone?” Duncan demanded.
“Yeah.” Frank rolled his eyes. “For all the good it will do.”
Duncan shrugged. It wasn’t like the farmer found a dead girl every day. Thank god. Who could blame him if he made the most of the rare event?
“Have you been able to examine her?”
Frank muttered a curse. “I just started when I was told to stop.”
“By who?”
“The chief.”
Duncan frowned. “Did she say why?”
The coroner’s expression went from hard to bleak. “The freaks are coming to collect her.”
If Frank had said those words just yesterday, Duncan would have gone ballistic. This was his case and he’d be damned if any freak was going to interfere.
Now, he squashed his territorial urges. Whatever was happening was way beyond his comfort zone. The more help the better. And speaking of help ...
“Did you learn anything?” he asked his companion.
Frank scowled. “Are you deaf? I just said I was told not to touch her.”