Evidence of Desire: Hero Series 3 (17 page)

Williams flipped through his legal tablet of notes. “But you were just granted funding for your exhibit a couple of months ago.”

She crossed her legs and uncrossed them. Sonya wanted to get up and pace the room, scream or throw something. However, she worked at keeping herself composed as best she could. “That is true but any curator will tell you that an extensive amount of leg work and research is do beforehand to justify opening any exhibit because of the thorough knowledge one must have of the subject and artwork and artifacts.” She licked her lips and slid a hand over her head to the bun at the back of it. “I did what any curator would have done.”

“Mmhm.” He made a few notes.

“May I ask a question?”

Williams’ pen remained on the paper as he jotted information, but he lifted his gaze to hers. “Sure.”

“How do you all know that it’s drugs and not some kind of plaster or ceramic?”

“Mr. Chastain carries a field kit. The UN can test for several things right on the spot. Your sphere came up hot.”

“
That
is not my sphere. I was supposed to have a Grooved Sphere delivered for my exhibit not that drug ball or whatever it is that showed up.” Her words ended on a high screech. She was losing control of her emotions. However, she wasn’t going to apologize for getting loud, because this was her career they were discussing. Sooner or later she knew it would come to that. “Why aren’t you trying to find out where the ancient artifact is?”

“Oh, I will.”

That was the first time Drummond had said a word since she introduced herself.

Shocked, Sonya practically snapped her own neck turning to look at the cool woman.

“The underwriters for these pieces, place paying for stole artwork last on their list. So, I make sure they get the items returned so they don’t lose money.”

“That’s what I’d like to see happen as well.” Sonya declared, trying to connect with the hard woman in some way.

“I’ll leave you two to finish this out.” Drummonds made her way to the door then out of it.

“You’re not planning any trips out of town now are you, Ms. Watson? I know it is the holiday and all.”

“No.” She’d just been to see Charmagne over Thanksgiving, so she was done. Holidays and being around her father didn’t mix, so she kept those two apart.

“Good.” He slipped the pen in his pocket and rose. “Well, be in touch.” No more words needed he left.

Sonya dropped her head down on the edge of her desk. She wanted to knock herself unconscious so she could wake up and find this had all been a horrible nightmare.

Drugs?

This situation was worse than she’d originally surmised. Damage to an artifact was already a horrific possibility, but now she felt sick and caught in the middle of a nightmare. She had no answers for any of it, and that was the most frightening of it all. No control of a situation that out of everyone, she should have managed from start to finish.

Her phone on her desk rang.

Blindly, she reached for it. “Hello.”

“Watson. Kravers. I want to see you in my office.” The called ended as abruptly as it happened.

She rose from the small chair and straightened her blazer and walked out of her office. Normally, before she met with the director, she sat and took a few breaths to get her mind together, but after the grenade had been tossed into her lap by Drummond and Williams anything else that befell her, she’d take in stride.

Down the corridors she walked zombified toward Kravers corner of the museum—no thought in her mind or feeling in her body. She was numb.

The many faces of visitors and employees were a blur on the fringes of her vision.

Arriving at his door she gave two firm knocks. When his high tone of ‘enter’ bellowed through the door, she went in.

He sat behind his desk. His tie was askew and his hair was disorderly as if he’d spent more than a few minutes shoving his hands through it. She empathized with his appearance because it was how she felt on the inside—everything out of place. His eyes were glazed over and beaded to the point of little harsh pokers.

It was evident that after the hell of the day he needed a target and his sight was set to Sonya Watson.
Well placed.

Stepping to one of two vacant seats, she began to lower herself.

“Don’t. This won’t take long.”

She resumed her full height and waited.

“As of this moment you are on administrative leave.”
Aim. Fire.
“I will notify you once the board and I have determined the extent of said absence or if there will be any further punishment as this investigation unfolds.”

“I understand, sir. The African American department was my responsibil—”

“No longer.” His hand cut through the air and her words like a knife. “Your assistant manager can take it in your stead. I think it goes without saying that until the situation is cleared up there the African Arts history exhibit will be closed indefinitely.”

“Yes, sir. Simeon will do a fine jo—”

“That’ll be all. Leave your badge before you go.” He waved her away with one hand and reached for his phone with the other.

She was unceremoniously dismissed. There was no place for her even to express her apologies or cry foul and that she had nothing to do with this. Her words would have fallen on deaf ears even if she’d had the chance.

Silent, she reached for her security badge. Unclipping it form her lapel, she placed it on his desk. After she wiped the sweat from her palm down the front of her skirt, she turned and left his office. She closed the door behind her.

Making her way back along the passages until she reached her office, her steps were more steady and rapid now then her trip out. When she entered her office, Simeon was standing in the middle the room pacing.

“There you are.” He rushed to her. “Mr. Minton and I have been worried sick all day and wanting to talk to you. Drugs. Can you believe it? What in the hell—”

“Simeon.” She could not help but smile at his outrage and enthusiasm. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for your concern. All of this will work it’s self out one way or another.” Walking to her desk, she removed her purse from the drawer. She logged out of her terminal but didn’t shut it off. Others would need it.

When she step away from the desk and crossed the room to her assistant, now temporary director, she removed her museum keys from the pocket of her blazer. She held them out to him. “Take these. You’ll need them, for now.”

The last part she’d wanted to say for a little while or for a week or so, but she didn’t know when or if she’d be claiming them back.

He frowned, staring at the keys then her face, but still didn’t claim them. “What’s going on?” His eyes stretched the size of duck eggs as he held his hands away from the keys. “Were you fired?”

“No.”
Not yet.
“Just stepping away temporarily. It is standard protocol while an investigation is ongoing. I’ll still be in the area. Call if you need me. Even though I doubt you will.” She grabbed one of his hands and forced the keys into it as she offered him a broader smile, try keep his worry at bay.

“Sonya…this just isn’t right. It doesn’t feel right.” He held her hand with the keys between his. His gaze was filled with an honest sincerity.

“I know, but everything will be fine.” She pulled her hand away. Turning she went to the door and paused a moment to exchange her blazer for her coat on the rack. Without another word, she left.

Her intentions were to follow Kravers instructions to the letter, but instead she knew there was one final stop she needed to make.

On her way to the wing on the other side of the building she felt as if all eyes were on her every time she passed another employee, she ignored it all. People were going to talk, gossip about facts and fiction. She’d never allowed things like that to rule her life and she wouldn’t start now because her department was involved in this mess.

Almost at her destination she turned a corner and walked right into a wall.

The strong fortress surrounded her, pulled her in and held her. She allowed it. Inhaling deep, she took in the one scent that calmed her body the way nothing else had done for her all day. Heady, robust and spicy. Parker.

She could hear the conversation and footsteps of people passing by them, but she didn’t care. For this one moment she was just going to let it all go.

He stroked her back. “Soni-love, I have been out of my mind. I was on my way to your office.”

Hearing the words ‘your office’ brought her back to the here and now and had her pulling away. “I was headed to let you know I’m leaving out.” She glanced up at him and wanted to sigh at the familiar sight of his face. Her mind offered her flashes of the last hours she’d spent in his bed.

“That’s probably a good idea. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Start tomorrow with fresh eyes.”

A dry cackle moved through her lips. “Not quite. This is it for me. For a while any way.”

“What?” He reached for her, placing hand on her arm. “Come to my office so we can talk in private.”

“I can’t, Parker.” She shook her head. She couldn’t go with him, not just because Mr. Kravers had ordered her to leave the premises but she need time alone to process all of this.

“The spiders, I know. Let’s step into the garden for a bit then.” He started to tug her in another direction.

Digging her heels in, she kept him from taking her further. “It’s not that. Look, I can’t get into it now. Just know I’m on administrative leave for now.”

He stared at her. “They can’t do this to you.” He was outraged and his face tightened around the corner of his eyes and mouth. “Talk to me.”

She ignored the pleading in his voice and the softening of his gaze. This wasn’t his problem. “I will…just not today. Not—”

“Well, isn’t this cozy.”

Startled, Sonya pulled away from Parker and faced the person behind her. “Mrs. Drummond.” Was this woman following me?

“May I help you?” Parker took a step forward, almost as if he was trying to shield her.

Sonya didn’t need a protector, especially now. The woman would probably take it as there was something Sonya needed cover for…like importing drugs and stolen artwork. She moved around the massive man. “Did you need me for something else?”

“No.” The recovery agent for the insurance company looked from her to Parker with her cunning gaze. “I was just making my way around through the employees and I was on my way to speak with Mr. Hayden. And I find you here as well. Interesting.”

Great. Another damn thing she had to feel guilty for. The last thing she wanted was to infiltrate Parker in a wrong that she hadn’t even committed. Sonya was at her limit. “Well, he’s all yours.”

“Sonya.” Parker called after her.

She didn’t stop, just continued along the quickest route to the employee parking lot. Without her badge, she’d be able to walk out the door but not come back in, which was fine by her at this point. She knew she was fleeing emotionally as well as in action, but she didn’t care.

“Is there some place we can speak briefly, but privately, Dr. Hayden?”

Parker heard the woman behind him, but the only thing he could do was keep watching Sonya’s hasty retreat. Once she was gone from his view, he faced the mysterious woman behind him.

“Ms. Drummond is it?”

“Yes.” She stepped forward and held out her hand to him.

Receiving it, Parker shook it then releasing her, he led the way to his office.

“I’ve always found arachnids fascinating. They set their sights on a prey and become very determined to captor it.”

The heavy undertone of her voice made him glance over his shoulder at her. She had paused before a Wolf Spider tank and dragged one French-tipped nail seductively along the glass where the spider clung. A shiver went down his spine. The insects of any kind didn’t bother him, but this woman made him uneasy.

“My office is this way.”

“Sure.”

The woman moved with quiet grace around his office as she took in one item after another. Parker leaned on the edge of his desk and watched her.

“You wanted to speak with me?” He asked after three minutes of silence.

She straight her stance as she moved away from the impression of a prehistoric arachnid from a rock found in Tibet.  She faced him. “What do you know about the happenings in the African American Wing?”

“Not much. As with any work place, there are rumors circling but no actual facts.” He folded his arms over his chest.

“Hm. Generally the rumor mill is pretty reliable.” She stepped toward him but kept her distance.

He shrugged. “Can you tell me what is going on?”

“Of course. The basics aren’t top secret. There was an artifact delivered to the A.A. department that was not only a forgery.”

“And the drug sniffing dogs that the Charlotte K-9 unit moving through the museum? Are they paint-sniffing dogs? Can tell dollar store water colors from ancient mediums?”

A corner of her mouth actually twitch, a laugh didn’t come out neither did she smile but there was a human inside her no nonsense suit.

“That’s connected, but I can’t really go into details about that part of the FBI and the UNODC portion of the investigation.”

His brow tightened, he’d never heard of the last agency. “The U.N.O…”

“United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.” She just spewed it out like she was talking about items on a grocery list.

“Why would they—”

One of her narrow eyebrows rose. “Why is it that the employees have pointed me in your direction in connection to Ms. Watson?”

Parker wasn’t surprised. Especially if one of the employees Ms. Drummond has spoken with had been Stacey. “We have history. Not part of our work at the museum.”

“Lovers?”

“Important to your case?”

She lifted a single shoulder. “Haven’t determined yet.”

He kept silent. At the moment he couldn’t even describe what was going on between him and Sonya. They had been growing close, spending time with each other at work and away from it…then there had been last night, but when she’d just walked away from him he could feel the distance. The crater now resting between them felt all too familiar. However, none of his thoughts was information he planned to share with the strange woman.

“Most curators are art collectors themselves. Is this true for Ms. Watson?”

“Yes.”

“You?”

He chuckled. “The things I collect most don’t find aesthetic enough to crave or paint.”

“Any of her artwork at home appear expensive…questionable?”

“Never said I’ve been to her home.”

“You didn’t have to. An embrace can speak volumes.” Now, she smiled. A closed lip one but a smile still the same.

He returned it with a quick bow of his head. This woman was extremely observant. He wondered how long she’d been spying them before she spoke up.

“I’ve never had an eye for art and could not say what item was valuable over another.”

She glanced around his office. “Understandable. Thank you.” Just a abruptly as she’d shown up, she headed out.

Rising, he started around his desk. As much as he would have loved to chase after Sonya he had his own departmental duties to handle. However, when he was off, she would be his main destination.

“One more thing, Dr. Hayden.

He looked toward the door as he claimed his seat. He’d thought she’d already left the office. “Yes.”

“You and Ms. Watson don’t have any lover’s getaway holiday plans I hope. If you do, you may want to cancel them while the investigation is ongoing.”

“Duly noted.” He watched her walk out this time. Once the door was closed behind her he slumped in his seat. At the moment, he doubted he could get Sonya to plan having a cup of coffee with him, let alone going out of town.

This situation was dire. He’d heard about a ruined piece of artwork, but forgery…and drugs? Even though the insurance recovery agent didn’t say that, he knew why K-9 units were called out. If they were bomb dogs the place would have been evacuated posthaste. He wondered if they’d found some in Sonya’s department. If so, where? Did they think Sonya had a problem with it? That didn’t make since and a drug test could clear her name easily of that. His Sonya was a hardworking woman that was above reproach.

At the moment, he couldn’t go to her, but he could call. Removing his cell from his lab coat pocket, he pressed the speed dial number for her phone.

It rang, only to be answered on the second ring by the answering machine.

“Sonya, it’s me. I’m worried about you. Call me.”

Four hours later, when he’d cleared his inbox enough to leave for the day, he still hadn’t heard from her. Who he had heard from was Agent Williams and his partner Agent Hampton and Mr. Chastain from the UN. They called him down to the conference room, the place they’d commandeered for their workstation, and asked him a few questions.

Parker sat on one side of the long table with the agents on the other. Mr. Kravers occupied a chair off to the side. Most likely because he was given leniency based on his status at the museum, especially since they were dragging in the staff. Notably, Ms. Drummond was absent. Parker figured she was out sniffing out clues with the K-9 unit.

“Tell us, Dr. Hayden. To your knowledge does Ms. Watson drink?” Agent Hampton tossed out first.

“Wine on occasion or rarely she’ll have a mixed drink.” He didn’t bother asking why they were asking him such personal questions about her. If Ms. Drummond had her rumors about him and Sonya…he was sure the FBI new even more.

“Have you ever seen her do drugs? Marijuana included.” Mr. Chastain asked that.

“No.” Parker replied.

“In college?” The UN man followed up.

“Never.” Parker laced his hands together under the table, holding them tight. It bothered him that he even had to answer such questions about Sonya. That her character had been smudged.

“Sell them? Or associate with known individuals that did?” Chastain asked.

“If I answered that, it would mean that I also associate with them.”

The FBI agents gave him a hard look.

Parker pushed his annoyance aside. “No, she doesn’t.”

They went on to ask about mental illness and financial issues.

“I am not privileged to know about her finances. However, from what I know about her, she’d always been financially responsible.” Parker explained.

“Her father on the other hand…not so much?” For the first time since Parker had sat, Agent Williams spoke.

Staring at the man in the middle behind his laptop, Parker pondered how much to share about Sonya’s personal business. “Sonya’s father raised her alone and over the years has suffered from a work-related disability since I’ve known her.”

“In college?” Williams wasn’t looking at him as he tapped away at the keys of his laptop.

“Yes. We went to undergrad together.” Tension began to rise up along Parker’s spine, bunching his back muscles. He had a sinking feeling where this line of question was headed.

“And married practically the day you graduated.” Williams gaze met his. “How long were you all married?”

“What?” Mr. Kravers barked out, launching to his feet. “Married. You never—”

“There’s no date of divorce annotated.” Agent Williams cut the directors rampage off.

Just as Parker had assumed, the FBI had investigated everyone involved in the situation. While he’d been loving Sonya in his bed last night, agents had been stripping her bare as well. “It didn’t last long. A couple of years. I signed the divorce papers a few months after we separated.” Even knowing that Sonya had intended to file, it still had hurt to see their life so neatly declared null and void—irreconcilable differences.

The only difference that had been between them was the paths of their mutual careers. However, they’d been too immature to work it out. He’d signed them and sent them back was a signature request slip. The slip returned back to him in the mail had been the last thing he’d gotten from her.

“Thank you, Dr. Hayden. That will be all.” Agent Hampton dismissed him.

“We’ll contact you if we have further questions.” Agent Williams continued, Please—”

“Don’t leave town.” Parker finished for him, recalling Ms. Drummond’s words.

“You can go where every you choose, Dr. Parker. You’re not under suspicion at this time. Just let us know if you plan to travel away during the investigation.” Agent Williams went back to entering information on his laptop.

Why? It’s not like you can’t track me down.
“No problem.”

Parker left. Behind him, he could hear Kravers running on with repeated questions about information the FBI had gathered about he and Sonya’s prior and current relationship. However, he didn’t care about anything at the moment, but getting to Sonya.

He pulled his phone out. There was still nothing, no call or message from her. The signs were starting to appear, she was shutting him out. Now he was not only worried but pissed. At twenty-three he may have just stepped back and taken it, but at 33 he’d be damned if he was going to roll over and let her handle this alone. He was going to fight for them whether she wanted him to or not.

Thirty minutes later, he pulled up to her house. Her car wasn’t in the driveway. Knowing her as he did, when things were moving out of her control she buried herself in the areas she could grab hold of and manage. Normally, that was her work. Since that was gone and the probably for the moment, that only left one other thing—her dancing.

She’d told him that she’d gotten into modern dance and had an exhibition coming up. However, he didn’t know which studio she attended.

“Shit!” He struck the steering wheel with his fist. There was nothing he could do about reaching her now. He’d come back later.

Later turned out to be around ten o’clock. Her car was there, but all the lights were out in her house. He sat before her house for over an hour, feeling like a stalker. However, he refused to call her or knock on the door and wake her. She needed her rest. At least he knew she was home safe.

Starting his car, he pulled away. He’d determined to give her another day before he tracked her down and made talk to him.

~ML~

Sonya rested in a ball center stage waiting for the first cue to begin for her solo—
Hear My Call
by Jill Scott. When she’d first selected the piece to do, it had been because she loved the artist and the melody and rhythm of the song worked beautiful for the flow of dance. However, after the last two days, and the emotional and mental torment she was under, the dance called her on another level. She’d spent every waking hour in the studio dancing it and practicing the other group performance for tonight. The all adult studio she attended was perfect for her. Most of the students where late bloomers to the art. They weren’t trying to become the best or win scholarships. No, they consisted of mothers, fathers, senior citizens and others like herself that just did it for exercise and enjoyment.

Her dancing had provided her with an escape and distance from all that was going on in her life that she desperately needed right now. As soon as tomorrow she would have to face the main person she’d pushed away. However, for right now she was going to dance.

The first notes of the piano began and she started to unfold herself slowly, one limb then the other. She rehearsed the piece with her eyes closed but by instruction she knew that dances were executed with open eyes…a soul connection to the audience.  Her first turn and reach landed her gaze on one set of light brown eyes in the audience. If it wasn’t for the many times she’d practiced the dance she would have faltered from the intense gaze locked with her own. As it was, her body went through the movements as her heart seized up on her in fear. She was scared to the depth of her soul to trust another—especially Parker. All of her life there had only been one person she could count on, herself. Her mother had left them and her father had abandoned her emotional for the serenity at the bed of a bottle.

She gave all into her leap at the bridge of the song. On her landing, she took to the floor, bowing and contorting her body and allowing the words to expression themselves through her movement. A freedom she didn’t know how to take verbally. Even now, she wasn’t even sure of herself. All that she’d held important, her skill and knowledge at work was left in question. Now, she didn’t even feel capable of depending on her own strength. How could she trust herself to Parker?