Page 42 of Ancient Obsession

“I’ve already told you. Have you brought in the other members of Dr. Brennan’s team for questioning?”

“We have talked with them, yes.”

“You’ve talked with them.” Oliver sat back and crossed his arms. “Did you put them in this tiny room and ask them the same questions over and over like you’ve done with me?”

“We’ve talked with them.” Carter’s voice was flat, his eyes like frozen lake ice.

Oliver stared back. He was done with all of this. He’d come in expecting something like the first time, only perhaps running a little longer. But this felt like it was moving toward him being held in jail, and he definitely did not want that.

“I want to speak to a lawyer.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“Not at the moment. I would like to speak to my fiancé. I’m sure he’s waiting out in the lobby.”

“That can be arranged after we go through your story again.”

“It’s not a story. It’s all fact. I did not murder Lucien or Dominic. I did not steal the mummy. I regret ever agreeing to go and watch them open that goddamn coffin.”

“Funny, Dr. Brennan regrets allowing you to be there.”

“How many times did you make her repeat herself?”

“Let’s focus on you.”

Carter picked up one of the case files that had been on the table at his elbow. Oliver had wanted to ask about them, but kept his mouth shut. That might make him look guilty.

“These are photos of the crime scene at Lucien LeClair’s apartment.”

Carter laid out six color photos. Cold sliced into Oliver as he took them in. Lucien’s body had been…broken. He’d been dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. Both arms lay at unnatural angles, and one of his legs was bent in a way that made him grimace and his stomach twist. Bloody gouges ran down his arms, almost like claw marks. Dark bruises circled the pale skin of his throat. Another photo showed the door to Lucien’s apartment. The wood around the handle and hinges was splintered. Whoever had murdered Lucien had been strong and angry.

“Jesus,” Oliver whispered.

The detective didn’t respond. He picked up another file and laid out six more color photographs, arranging them above the previous. These were of Dominic. He lay wedged in a corner of a bathroom between the toilet and the wall. Oliver wondered if he’d been trying to hide from whoever had attacked him. More twisted limbs. Another set of gouges, deep enough to show muscle, but this time across his left cheek. Dark bruises around his neck indicated he’d been strangled. Other photos depicted extensive damage to the entry and bathroom doors.

“Dominic Sato tried to hide.”

“I didn’t do this.” Oliver looked up, tears in his eyes as reality sank in. Lucien and Dominic had been alive just days before. He’d spoken with both men, worked with them to open the coffin. And now they were dead. “I swear to you, detective, I did not, could not, do this.”

Carter stared at him, expression still and unreadable. “I hope to God you didn’t.”

A knock at the door broke the intensity of the moment. Oliver drew in a shaky breath. Carter collected the photos and slid them into their respective case files before calling out, “Yeah.”

A woman stepped into the room. She wore a dark pantsuit with a badge clipped to the waistband. “Talk with me a minute.”

Staring at Oliver as he pushed back his chair, Carter said, “Sure.” He picked up the folders and left, closing the door behind him.

Oliver focused on his breathing. The room was claustrophobic and stuffy. The lights buzzed overhead and were suddenly much too bright. His stomach rumbled and a dull pounding had started up behind his eyes.

A short time later, the door opened again. Oliver blinked in surprise.

“Dieter?”

His grandmother’s boyfriend, Dieter Reid, stood in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual white pants, white dress shirt, and black bolo tie with a sparkling Zirconia clasp. His full goatee and mustache were trimmed and matched the thick white hair combed back from his forehead.

“Hello, dear boy. Are you ready to leave?” Dieter’s voice was strong, testament to his years spent as a trial lawyer before he’d retired.

Oliver hesitated. Was he imagining this because he was overheated and hungry? “They’re letting me go?”