Beautiful Sacrifice by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

I’d be in the front line of grave diggers, shoveling hard.”
    His hand squeezed her shoulder, lingered.
    “So would I,” he said. “Tell me more about Maya and masks.”
    She looked into his silver-blue eyes and saw shadows. She knew he understood loss at a level as deep, even deeper than hers. She tried to remember why she should be angry with him.
    She couldn’t.
    “Masks,” she said, gathering herself. “Masks were an integral part of Maya rituals. The nobles/priests wearing them would take on the aspects of the god whose mask they wore, or the god would speak through the mask wearers. Either or both.”
    “I don’t think the news coming from that obsidian mask would be good.”
    “All masks are fearsome to some degree, because the gods are fearsome. But this one gives me chills.”
    Yet I know this mask.
    Or will.
    A movement at the ground-level window caught her attention. Whatever it was vanished before she could focus. Just like all the other times she’d looked over her shoulder, feeling watched.
    “You okay?” Hunter asked.
    “Yes,” she said automatically, even as her instincts shouted no.
    Hunter’s phone vibrated against his butt. A text had just come in. He fished out the device, hit the button, and read Jase’s message: NEED U. NEW INFO.
    “I have to go,” Hunter said, gathering up the photos and stuffing them into their envelope.
    “But—” she began.
    “For now, you’ll have to work from your notes,” he cut in. “I’ll call as soon as I’m free. Have something good for me.”
    The office door closed behind Hunter before she could say anything. The man moved like a cat.
    Then she remembered why she was mad at him.
    With a muttered word, Lina booted up her big computer and went to work. It wasn’t like she had a lot of choice, after all.
    And if she kept telling herself that, she might not have a case of rapid pulse every time he came near her.

C HAPTER S IX
     
    W HEN H UNTER LEFT THE MUSEUM BUILDING, HE DIDN’T notice the rising, oddly dry heat of the day. His long legs moved with deceptively lazy speed as he covered ground to the parking lot where he had left his beat-up Jeep. As he walked, he speed-dialed Jase’s number.
    “What’s up?” Hunter asked as soon as Jase answered.
    “While you were sniffing around the sexy professor, I reviewed those warehouse tapes until my eyes started to bleed.”
    “I was working, not sniffing,” Hunter said. A half-truth.
    “Nice work if you can get it. I found something interesting.”
    So did I, Hunter thought as he slid into the Jeep with its open windows and canvas cover. Her skin smells like cinnamon.
    “One of the nights covered on those security tapes,” Jase said, referring to the digital record that got wiped every three weeks, “the custodian made an extra trip through the warehouse. Other than that, he was as regular in his rounds as a robot.”
    “Huh.” Hunter turned the key. The engine started instantly. Only the exterior looked careless. Every working part was better than new. “You at my apartment?”
    “Yeah, I don’t want Ali to suspect that anything’s wrong, that I didn’t take the bus as usual to work. Can you pick me up? It’s Ali’s shopping day.”
    “Buses are a pain,” Hunter agreed, “especially with kids and groceries.”
    “And pregnant.” There was a smile in Jase’s voice, the sound of a man who was pleased with his woman.
    “On my way,” Hunter said.
    A few minutes later he pulled to a stop in front of his apartment building. Jase was waiting, dressed in jeans, sandals, and a clean blue shirt whose sleeves were already rolled up against the heat. A light wind jacket made an unnecessary layer, which told Hunter that Jase was carrying.
    “How close did the janitor get to the stuff?” Hunter asked as Jase slid into the passenger side of the Jeep.
    “That’s tough to tell. The recording devices are only triggered by movement. Some of the guys had complained about that and the lack