Always a Thief - Kay Hooper [74]
With that thought still in her mind, she went on down the hallway to the computer room, finding Storm frowning at her computer as she typed briskly.
“Hi,” Morgan said, deliberately casual as she leaned in the doorway. “What's up?”
The petite blonde finished typing and hit the enter key, then leaned back in her chair and looked at her friend with solemn interest. “We'll get to that in a minute. What's up with you?”
Since she wasn't easily embarrassed, Morgan didn't blush under that shrewd scrutiny. “Well,” she offered, still casual, “I'm better than I was yesterday.”
“Mmm. Even after being chloroformed?”
“That wasn't the high point of the evening.”
“I should hope not. Alex?”
Morgan felt herself smiling. “Does it show?”
“Only all over you.” Storm smiled in return. “Sort of disconcerting, isn't it?”
“I'll say. And with all this other stuff . . . Well, let's just say I'm taking things as they come.”
“Probably best.” Then Storm looked more serious. “Jared said they thought it was Nightshade who grabbed you.”
“Yeah. Just my luck, huh? Listen, has Max checked in today? I feel guilty as hell about missing work.”
“As a matter of fact he's here. Out in the museum somewhere.”
“I'll try to find him. Um . . . where's Bear?” She didn't see the little cat anywhere.
“With Wolfe—who is also somewhere out in the museum.” The computer beeped just then, commanding Storm's attention, and she sat up to deal with the electronic summons. “He's getting a bit nervous. Wolfe, I mean.”
That surprised Morgan, since she had seldom seen the security expert rattled by anything. “About the trap?” she asked.
Storm keyed in a brief command, then looked back at her friend with a smile. “No. About a church wedding in Louisiana. He was all for us finding a preacher and just doing it, but we can't. After six sons, my mama started saving her pennies for my wedding the day I was born, and I just can't spoil that for her. So, even as we speak, plans are being made back home. And Wolfe's feeling a bit daunted about meeting my family and walking down the aisle.”
She didn't sound particularly worried, Morgan thought in amusement. But then—there was no reason she should be. However nervous he might be about the ordeal awaiting him in Louisiana, it was abundantly clear that Wolfe was so deeply in love with Storm it would have taken a great deal more than a gauntlet of relatives to drive him away from her. It would, Morgan thought, take something absolute. Like the end of the world.
Somewhat dryly, Morgan said, “His job and reputation on the line, and he's worried about a little rice and orange blossom.”
“Men are odd, aren't they?”
“Ain't that the truth? Listen, is there anything else I should know about, workwise?”
Storm reported the latest findings and their own speculations on Jane Doe, finishing with, “Keane's forensics team was down in the basement for a while, trying to determine points of entry, but they're gone now. Didn't find anything conclusive. We've beefed up security cameras and alarms on all exterior doors. And windows.”
“Sounds good.” Morgan frowned. “Does Keane believe they're any closer to identifying Jane Doe?”
“I don't think so, but he did say they were pretty much focusing all their efforts on getting a viable fingerprint from the body.”
“Is that even possible with burned fingers?”
“The experts believe they have a shot at it. Let's hope they know what they're talking about.” Storm grimaced. “It's actually easier to look for a missing person than it is to I.D. a body when it's dumped somewhere other than a crime scene and the description doesn't match up with any listed missing person. Makes sense when you think about it.”
“Yeah. Got to have a place to start.”
“That's what Keane says. And he's frustrated as hell about it. Anyway, that's it for now. You're up to speed.”
“Thanks.” Morgan lifted a hand in farewell and went on down the hall. She stopped at her office, discovering that her clipboard wasn't on her desk where she'd left it, then continued to the curator's office at the end of the hall. She found Chloe Webster there