Storm of Shadows by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page B

Then, ‘Study hard, Elizabeth.’ Then about five minutes later, another text came through.” She shuffled her feet, suddenly all too aware how insignificant this sounded. “It said , ‘Run . ’ ”

    But Aaron didn’t seem to think the messages insignificant. Instead, his face grew cool and considering. “Elizabeth is your mother’s name.”

    “Yes. Not many people remember that, which is why I think . . . I think he was giving me a signal it really was him.”

    “Yes . . .” Aaron stood completely still, listening to some inner logic. “ ‘Study hard . ’ What does that mean?”

    “I don’t know, but I started looking around for my mother’s things, and found a notebook and that stone tablet.”

    “Anything of interest there?”

    “The notebook is fascinating!” She could scarcely contain her excitement. “She was a master at translating pre-Columbian languages. I could have learned so much from her. . . .” Her voice faltered. The pain of her mother’s death would subside at times, but it never faded.

    “I wish I’d known this. I would have recommended we bring the notebook,” Aaron said.

    “It’ll be there when I return. No one goes down there except me.”

    “No one except Lance Mathews.”

    She stiffened at Aaron’s tone. “He’s hardly going to break in, and even if he did, he’d be hard-pressed to comprehend the contents of my mother’s notebook!”

    “Right.” That seemed to cheer Aaron no end. “Lance Mathews is a philistine when it comes to understanding your work.”

    She bristled. “I wouldn’t say he was a philistine. He’s simply . . . unschooled.”

    “Ha.” But Aaron really paid no heed to her denial. “You were told your father died of a heart attack, so perhaps it was preceded by a stroke, or he was confused by pain.”

    He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t thought herself. “True.”

    “Yet I knew Dr. Hall. It’s hard to imagine him suffering from dementia.”

    “Also true. Daddy was so exact, so precise in his thoughts and his speech. Yet as a rule, he didn’t text. He said he didn’t understand why it was better than e-mail or a call.”

    “Typical old guy.”

    “Yes. So I can’t imagine how a man who was confused by a stroke could figure out how to text, or why he would text my mother.”

    “Or why he would tell her to run.” Aaron wandered toward the pool and pointed at the largest sea lion, which was barking at the zookeeper.

    She looked, and nodded as if she were interested, when actually, right now, she didn’t care about the sea lions.

    Aaron moved them to the other end of the pool, about two feet away from the press of the crowd. After surveying the people around them, he asked, “At the time of his death, was anyone with Dr. Hall?”

    “I received a phone call from a police officer telling me of the death. I asked what had happened. He told me a heart attack. I asked what Daddy was doing, where he was, who was with him. The officer seemed suddenly unable to speak English.” Her hand rested on Aaron’s arm. “My Spanish is good, so I asked him in Spanish. The call was cut off. I prepared to fly down to retrieve the body and question him face-to-face, but the next day, I got a call from the head of the library board. They’d received an urn with his ashes.” She was proud of herself. She’d recited the horrible litany without flinching.

    Yet, for all his cold eyes and inscrutable demeanor, Aaron seemed to see something in her resolute gaze that roused his compassion. Carefully he uncurled her fingers from his arm and held her hand between both of his. “You believe there is a possibility that the ashes aren’t your father’s.”

    “I even opened up the urn and looked at them.” She felt more and more foolish, but something about Aaron brought the words bubbling out of her. “They’re white and . . . ashy. I thought there would be some pieces that were vaguely human, but it looks like fireplace