Raiders of the Lost Heart(77)

“Well, this is fun and all,” Corrie said, “but back to the big picture. What are we going to do? Until we know who the thief is, we can’t tell anyone else. This discovery is too big.”

“Then we do what you suggested. We send everyone home,” Ethan said.

“We can’t do that. Now that we’ve made the discovery, we need to get it out of here before someone else figures it out, too,” Ford said.

“Then we need to confront everyone. Give the thief a chance to come clean, and if they don’t, we search their things.”

“We can’t search their things.” Ford said, he and Ethan going back and forth.

“We can if they give their permission. And they’ll give their permission unless they’re guilty.”

“So we figure out who it is by process of elimination?”

“Exactly. Anyone with anything to hide will turn themselves in before we figure out the truth on our own,” Ethan said.

“Yeah, because the truth always comes out. Like I said earlier,” Corrie chimed in.

The truth always won in the end.

Chapter

Eighteen

The truth always came out. Apparently, hearing it once wasn’t enough. It was like the universe trying to hammer the point home. Trying to warn him that he was walking a dangerous line, as if he wasn’t already aware of his predicament. Warning him of Corrie’s anticipated reaction.

But what was he supposed to do? He’d tried telling her twice now and both times he’d been interrupted. Was he supposed to blurt it out? Interrupt the biggest archaeological discovery of his career with a Hold that thought, Chimalli, I need to tell Corrie something?

Yet with each passing minute, anxiousness built in the pit of his stomach. A dread of what was to come. Add a thief in the camp on top of that, and Ford was sure he was about to have a heart attack from all the stress.

One by one, Ford and Ethan questioned the team members. Asked them if they had anything they wanted to confess to. Prodded for a voluntary confession. And when a confession didn’t come, Ethan would reveal the situation and ask if they would be willing to submit to a search of their bunk and bags.

“The truth always comes out,” Ethan said each time. Thanks for the reminder.

So far, everyone had agreed, with each protesting that they had nothing to hide. Like Corrie had suspected. And after each questioning and search, they were sent off to a separate area of the camp monitored by Corrie and Sunny so they couldn’t warn those who had yet to be questioned. It was slow, but it was necessary at this point in the dig. They simply couldn’t chance that the thief had learned of their discovery.

Five down and eight more to go.

Agnes plopped into the seat across from Ethan and Ford.

“Is this really necessary?” Ford asked Ethan. Seriously. The last person he suspected was Agnes.

“Better safe than sorry,” he replied.

“What’s this about?” Agnes asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. “Are you firing me for this alleged food poisoning incident? Because I don’t serve rotten food.”

Hmm. Maybe the thief had done that, too.

“No, Agnes. That’s not what this is about. You’re a fabulous cook, and I’m pretty sure I can’t live without you on another dig.”

Agnes flashed Ford a sultry smile, clearly proud of herself. “All right. Well, I see you going through everyone’s bunks. Coming to check out my knickers?”

Ford couldn’t help but snicker. “Yes, Agnes, that’s it. We’re the knicker police,” Ford said. “But in all seriousness, we’ve got a problem in camp.”

“Well, if you wanted in my knickers, you could have come to my bunk after everyone else was asleep. Though you’ve been . . . preoccupied every night already,” she said, waggling her brow.

Ford straightened in his seat. “How did you . . .” His voice trailed off.

With a devilish quirk of the lips, Agnes cocked her head and said, “It’s easy for people to forget I’m here. Ignore the cook. But I see everything that happens in this camp, even when people think no one is looking.”

Ethan and Ford glanced at each other as if thinking the exact same thing. A human security camera.

“Agnes,” Ethan started, “we’ve got a situation. It appears there might be someone in camp who has . . . ulterior motives for being here.”

“If you’re asking whether I’ve seen someone sneaking around the storage bunker, then the answer is yes. You don’t need to beat around the bush and play coy with me,” she said, and then turned toward Ford and raised her brow. “Unless you’re trying to get in my knickers, that is.”

“I’m sorry . . . did you say you saw someone sneaking around the storage bunker?” Ford asked, ignoring her inuendo.

“Sure did. Didn’t see who it was, though, unfortunately. Caught my attention because I thought it was odd seeing someone wearing a black hooded sweatshirt. It’s a little hot for a sweatshirt. But then he was walking around the storage bunker. Like he was eyeing it real close. Like trying to find a way in. Didn’t see whether he did, though. Kind of hard to see from this angle.”

“Was there anything else about him, like, physically, that you can remember?”

“No, like I said. He had on a hood. Sort of hard to tell from afar. Though I suppose he seemed on the smaller end of the spectrum, as far as the men here go.”