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“Holy shit,” I breathed. “That’s it.”
As it was with most of the sarcophagus that were made for royalty, there was a painting of the mummy within; an exact depiction of the adorned headdress, delicate wrappings, and for this particular mummy, the object that it held in its hands. It was, without a doubt, the Anubis artifact.
“Pharaoh Akhenaten,” Gunner read, “was a lesser-known pharaoh and devout worshiper of the god Anubis. His unwavering allegiance to one god and dismissal of the others caused him to be labeled ‘The Heretic’, and he was assassinated during an uprising of his people to put a more traditional pharaoh on the throne. Pharaoh Akhenaten is seen on his sarcophagus holding an effigy of Anubis that had been passed down through his family, and was said to be the source of all his strength and wisdom.”
He flipped the page, and pictured on the next page was the mummy itself outside of the sarcophagus. Unlike the painting, the mummy’s hands were suspended in the air as if holding something, but eerily empty.
“There are no known photographs of the Anubis effigy, as it seems to have been stolen not long after Pharaoh Akhenaten was entombed. Stories written on the inside of the pharaoh's tomb explain that the effigy puts a curse of obsession on the thief. Finding such an artifact would be an incredible boon for archeology as a whole, but we do not hold out much hope that it will ever be found.”
Gunner and I were silent for long minutes, staring at the photographs and absorbing what they meant for us. Geoff had shown Gunner the pictures they had used to try and sell the artifact before they knew the kind of deep trouble they were really in, but he insisted on erasing them immediately afterwards, paranoid that he could somehow be tracked. In fact, the more Gunner talked about Geoff, the more the mystery brother-in-law sounded like Trevor in his final days. I wondered if Gunner was also making the connection.
The pictures in front of us meant that this artifact was, indeed, completely genuine. If we were more philanthropic people, turning it over to a museum or historian would be the right call, but it was more than just my skin that needed to be saved. Gunner’s nieces were just kids, and I was under the impression he’d commit hundreds of crimes to keep them safe. A little bit of art thievery wasn’t going to be all that terrible if it saved their lives. I agreed fully, too. I wanted to help him help his family, and the fact that it would also get me out of hot water was a definite perk.
All of this information also confirmed that the curse aspect of the statue had been a part of its legend since the beginning. I knew Gunner didn’t buy into it, but he hadn’t lived with someone who was supposedly cursed, like I had. Maybe if the Dark Hand leader spent enough time with the evil thing, he would turn it over to the right people of his own accord.
The entire thing was so fascinating, and if my life hadn’t been on the line, I’d have enjoyed the intrigue of it a lot more. If Gunner and I succeeded, we’d soon be holding something that was created more than two thousand years ago! There was a very real chance this would be the biggest adventure of my life, and I wanted to remember every detail, danger and all.
“So it really is what Geoff said it was, then,” Gunner mused out loud. “Honestly, I had this off-the-wall theory that maybe it was made out of some toxic material that was making the owners lose their minds from being around it, not a real artifact. This is now firmly in Indiana Jones territory.” He glanced at me out of the side of his eyes. “Think I’d look good in a hat like that?”
“Shut up, Gunner.” I flipped the pages back and forth a few more times. “Here’s my thought. Trevor was a little neglectful with some of the jewelry and things in his office, but it’s not like they were just banging around loose in the drawers. They were all in cases at least, and my hypothesis is that since he wasn’t leaving the house there at the end, he was selling smaller stolen things like jewelry that he could ship without the postal service throwing a fit.”
He wasn’t following. “Okay, and?”
“Every other time he brought art into the home he was impeccably careful. White gloves and everything. If you look closely, the glass doesn’t even sit flush against the framed paintings in the house, and he told me a lot of them have a protective clear layer of plastic over them, too. Now that we know the truth about the artifact, I’m certain that he wouldn’t have treated it thoughtlessly. It’s not going to be tossed in a gym locker somewhere or buried in a shoebox. It’s somewhere safe and away from any environmental hazards.”
“Huh.” He sat down, rubbing his stubbled chin in thought. “You think he has a safety deposit box somewhere?”
“I don’t know. Even that would be pushing it, I think, since there is surveillance at all banks. That’s a good possibility, though.”
Gunner called Kevin, asking him to make some calls to all the local banks and check for boxes under my name, Trevor’s name, and all of his aliases while I tried to think of other places he might have hidden something so precious and old. I brainstormed out loud while Gunner wrote down everything and documented the pages in the book. My ideas ranged from my old apartment, under the floorboards of my car, even the foster home that Trevor had grown up in, but none of them made enough sense. He wouldn’t have constant access to those places, making them too unreliable of a hiding spot. I had the unshakable feeling that the answer was right in front of my face, and I was too blind to see it.
Gunner kicked back in his seat, sighing. “Tomorrow, we need to go to the local museums and check out the exhibits. I still think he might have stashed it in plain sight. If that fails, we’ll have to see about having someone break in to check the storage in the back of the museum; I heard only one fourth of the collections are ever on display, and everything is kept hermetically sealed away or something.”
“Lying about our identity to read books in a special library is one thing, Gunner, but breaking into a museum is another! Count me out.”
“What about defiling a special library?” he quipped, and I was pretty sure my glare could melt steel.
I checked the time and grimaced. “It’s almost past six. We’ve been here all day. Do you want to keep going orrr…?”
“Let’s make one more pass and see if the guy that made this photography book did any other work here, and if not, we can take off and go over the museum tours for tomorrow back at the hotel. I want to leave on good terms with the librarian in case we have to come back.”
I flicked my eyes over the table where we had performed our exhibitionist extracurriculars and felt my neck getting hot. “I don’t know if I can come back.”
He laughed knowingly, but didn’t heckle me anymore. He turned the charm on with the librarian on the way out, and while the older woman hadn’t enjoyed our presence in the beginning, Gunner working her over on his own had her giggling and blushing in no time. I knew just how she felt.
Outside, the university buzzed with activity, students moving in small clumps together and chatting happily while others rushed home urgently to get started on some sort of work. It was a living, breathing community, and watching it go on around me made me feel a rush of nostalgia. The idea of going back to the hotel and scrolling through museum websites for hours made me want to lie comatose on the bed instead, letting time slip by. If we weren’t actively working towards finding the statue, I was more than ready to live my normal life again.
“What’s going through your mind?” Gunner asked quietly as we walked to his car. He was ever vigilant about our surroundings, but still took a second to check on me.
“I’m just down, I guess. This certainly hasn’t been boring, but I feel like I’m spinning my wheels. This was a win today, I think, but …” I shrugged, unsure of what exactly to say. “I’m still as unsure as I’ve ever been. We don’t get any closer to actually finding anything, we just find more and more places to eliminate.”
Gunner looked up at the clouds, hands in his pockets as he thought. He could be a quiet man sometimes, but over the past week we’d gotten close, even if I didn’t count our intimate moments this afternoon. I could tell he was mulling some things over in his mind, so I stayed silent.
“Let’s go do something tonight,” he said finally.
I stuttered to a stop. “What? We can’t be out in public like that. You said so yourself.”
“We’ll spend the minimum amount of time on the streets. It won’t be any more dangerous than what we’re doing right now if we’re careful.” He grew serious. “I want to give you a slice of normal life if you’ll let me, Rachel. I know all of this is so far out of your comfort zone. Let’s step back into it at least for a few hours.”
