Trove (The Katie Walsh Mysteries) (8 page)

“I know that, KitKat. But why? I don’t bite.” He chuckled. “At least not
that
hard.”

“Please. Just please stop. I need you to act like we’ve just met. Don’t bring any of our past into this…” she flipped her hand in front of her, waving it in the air, “this relationship.” Lord help her, but she wanted to run. But where, into his arms, or out of the building? She shook her head. How was she going to survive this until another position opened up?

“Relationship?” Laura Benson asked as she stepped into the kitchen. She glanced at Katie and then at Alec, waiting for an answer.

Katie offered a half shrug. “My ‘working for the man who stole my promotion’ relationship.”

“Oh,” Laura replied, her tone was of the “we’ll talk about this later” variety. She grabbed a mug, filled it with the coffee, and headed back to the larger work area.

Katie followed her out the door then headed for her office and powered up her laptop. She could do this, keep it all professional. Surely something would open up. There were always open positions.
Or maybe
, she thought as she tapped her upper lip with her forefinger,
just maybe she’d be able to create a new position
. Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do and then she’d be out of there in just a few days.

“I like it when you smile.” Alec was leaning against the doorjamb with two coffees.

Katie sat back in her chair. “I didn’t realize I was smiling.”

“Well, from where I’m standing, I’d say you’re beaming. What’s behind it?”

She tossed her hair over one shoulder. “Nothing.”

He laughed. “You’re not a convincing liar. Do you play poker by any chance?”

She shook her head slightly. “No, I don’t have the patience for all the subterfuge.”

“Now that I can believe,” he said as he stepped toward her desk. “Here’s your coffee,” he said as he held it out for her, “cream only according to Laura.”

She took the cup and sipped the hot liquid. It was delicious, but that was just because it was the first cup of the day she told herself, not because he made it. “Thanks. You can make coffee for me every morning if you like.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I can make it when you first get up…”

Her face flushed.
Change the subject right now
, she warned herself. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Since we’re all here, we can have the meeting earlier. Join me in my office in five minutes.”

Before she could answer he was gone.

Laura met her outside Alec’s office and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We’re so having lunch together, missy. And we are sooo going to talk.”

She pasted on her best “I don’t know what you’re talking about look” and headed into the office, followed by Laura.

“Ladies. Please have seat,” he said as he pointed to the small conference table.

Katie selected the chair that offered her the greatest distance from the others, accidentally shoving it against the wall in her haste to claim it. Laura sat opposite her, leaving the chair in the middle for Alec. Alec stood between them grinning. Katie laughed, relaxing her tense posture. She could be open, she could work with him, and most importantly, she could change.

He turned and walked back over to his desk. Her eyes followed him, watching him retrieve some documents. He leaned over his desk.
Mm, his butt was just as I remembered it, taut, powerful
…

Her fingers flexed as she remembered the strength of it as—

Laura kicked her under the table. “Ouch,” Katie said softly, reaching down to massage her shin. She swallowed and mouthed, “What was that for?”

Laura leaned over the table and whispered, “Put your eyes back in your head.” Laura swished her head from side to side. “Oh, we are sooo having lunch, Katie Walsh.”

“Okay, here’s our first project,” Alec said as he placed a dossier in front of Laura and Katie and then sat between them. “I will defer to your opinion on this dossier as it relates to a runic translation.”

Flipping through the first few pages, Katie scanned the brief overview of the source of the runes and then continued turning pages. The middle part of the document contained close-up photos of the runes. The last third contained two translations. “Why are we looking at this if it’s already been translated?”

“The problem is that there’s no consensus for the results. The translations are almost totally opposite. Also, I’m no expert, but I noticed that some of the runes are odd.”

“Odd? How so?” she asked.

“Look closely at some of the runes. They’re just wrong. They don’t exist in any catalog, at least that’s what I’ve been told. Here,” he said as he flipped to a tabbed page in his document. “Look at this one.” He laid his copy on top of hers. “Ever seen that before?”

Her lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted together as she looked intently at the symbol. “I’d have to agree, it’s definitely not normal. Where was this found?”

“In the British Isles, the southern part, I believe. Does that make any difference?”

“It could. The two more well-known rune alphabets are the Elder Futhark and the Anglo-Saxon. The Elder Futhark
alphabet contains twenty-four characters while the Anglo-Saxon alphabet contains thirty-three.”

“So,” he asked, “are they very different?”

“Well, clearly the Anglo-Saxon has many characters in common with the Elder Futhark, having derived from it, but you have to remember that for the longest time, ‘reading and writing’, for lack of a better term, were not part of the everyday life of people. Add to that the fact that runes were often etched into stone and were subject to weathering and erosion over the course of many hundreds of years, if not near a thousand in some instances.”

Noticing his puzzled look, how his eyebrows almost formed a unibrow, she could tell she was losing him.
Don’t make him uncomfortable, just help him understand
, she warned herself.
Don’t shut him out.

She continued, “What I’m trying to say is that there was no one school for learning runes. Individuals were taught, and over time, small regional variations crept in. Also, if there wasn’t a rune that conveyed a meaning, they might have been tempted to add a rune, hence this difference in the number of Anglo-Saxon runes versus the Elder Futhark runes.” She angled her body so that she faced him, resting her hand on the dossier. “Runes are a contextual alphabet, like hieroglyphics and Mayan carvings. You need to understand the message based on the surrounding characters in order to decipher the meanings. You don’t add them together to equate to a word the way the English language works. If I wanted to convey the English word ‘rich,’ I would simply write r-i-c-h. If I further wanted to say you are very rich, I would simply add the word ‘very’ in front of rich. With runes, I would need to add the rune ‘auroch’ which can be translated as ‘shower’ in front of the rune ‘feoh’ meaning ‘wealth.’ The context would be shower of wealth, which could be interpreted as ‘very wealthy.’ ”

He still looked puzzled.

She thought for a moment and then grinned. “Think in terms of accents. Sort of like a Southern accent versus a Midwestern accent. Clearly both are based on English, but just as clearly there are regional variations, dialects if you will. Add to that the differences in language as time progresses, for example English from the Middle Ages versus modern English. Some words, though having the same pronunciation, would have different contextual meanings. Try saying ‘that’s cool’ to someone in the Middle Ages and they would think you were talking about the temperature.”

“Ah,” he said, “so now I can understand the lack of consensus of the translations. But,” he continued as he shifted his body to face her straight on, “no one seemed to have recognized some of the runes. The one I pointed out has no known translation and there about a dozen more.”

“It doesn’t mean they aren’t legitimate. It just means more contextual research is needed. They may turn out to be sort of a ‘runic slang,’ for lack of a better term. Or, maybe the person who etched these particular runes added a few of his own. I’ve actually created a few of my own, a personal shorthand, if you will. The bulk of these are Anglo-Saxon runes, based on a quick look at them.”

“Interesting,” he said as he rubbed his chin. “I like the way you think.”

She looked at him and smiled, feeling that perhaps she could work with him. She could prove herself to him with this translation and let him know that she still wanted his job but would not undermine his authority while going after it. She needed to prove to Dr. Austin and herself that they’d made a terrible mistake and that she could change; she would change.
That might not be enough,
she thought.
Maybe I’ll need to work with Lucy in some way and then I can find out exactly how she knew about Alec.

“So, Katie,” he said as he retrieved his copy of the dossier from under her hand, “this will be your first official project. Provide a robust translation that means something, not the gibberish of the included translations. Have at it.”

Gathering up her coffee and her copy of the dossier, she started to leave. At the door, she stopped and turned to face him. He was grinning. “What are you smiling at?” she asked.

“You. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About what great discoveries are going to come out of our collaboration. I told you that last week. Is that what you were going to say, that I was right?” he teased.

“No,” she said as she shook her head slightly, “actually I was going to ask you what size the picture frame was.”

His laugh echoed through the room, warming her, beginning the thaw of the Ice Princess, she could feel it.
How am I going to survive this, survive him?

****

“Ahem.”

Katie lifted her head, marking her place in the dossier. Laura was standing in the doorway.

“So, do you want to eat in the café or head outside?” Laura asked. “You can choose, but you can’t back out.”

Katie sighed. “Okay, okay, you’re worse than a damn pit bull.” She grabbed her purse and headed out. “Let’s go outside, away from prying eyes and walls with ears.”

Laura, who at five-eight towered over Katie, laughed as they headed outside. “I knew this was going to be good.”

They grabbed their lunches from the local sandwich shop and headed out on the wharf. They settled on a rare unclaimed bench midway down. The warm sun was shining, making Laura’s hair appear blonder. Katie grabbed a lock of her own hair and held it up to the light, the red undertones clearly visible. “Wonder what I’d look like as a blonde?” she asked, letting the silky strands slip free to move in the slight breeze.

Laura shook her head. “Your skin color’s wrong. The chestnut color works.”

Laura ate her sandwich almost without chewing. Katie picked at hers, occasionally taking a full bite.

“Are you going to finish that sandwich or just worry it to death?” Laura asked. “And just so you know, not eating won’t get you out of talking.”

Katie took a sip of her soda then carefully screwed the cap back on.

“You’re killing me, Katie. Start spilling.”

Katie shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Just what the hell is going on, and I can so see that there’s something between you and Alec, so don’t deny it. You know him, don’t you?”

Katie glanced around. “Yes, I do know him. I met him before today.”

“Yeah, in London last week. I know that.” Laura pursed her lips trying to work out the connection. “But there’s something else.”

Katie’s face flamed. “Laura, please,
please
don’t ever repeat this.”

“I promise. You know I consider you my sister. Now tell me.”

“Remember I told you I met someone in London five years ago?”

Laura nodded. “Yeah, you said you picked him up in the bar, no questions asked.”

“Literally.” Katie affirmed. “Well...”

“Oh. My. God. The grey eyes, almost black hair… It was Alec MacGowan.”

“Yes,” Katie said as she dropped her head. “God help me. Alec…” She hesitated. “He saw more of my body than my doctor ever has. And the things we did…” she said, shaking her head. “And now… now he’s my boss.”

“Oooh, Katie, what’s that about your new boss? He’s definitely a fine male specimen. And who knows, maybe he’ll be able to thaw you out, though I might let him practice on me first.” The shrill sound of the voice rubbed Katie’s already on-edge nerves even rawer.

“Spying on me even out here, Lucy? Tell me something. Do you have my home bugged too?” Katie asked, smiling ever so sweetly.

Lucy Millar, head of the Inner Circle, never ceased to amaze Katie with her ability to sniff out any hint of scandal or intrigue. She was worse than a damn bloodhound. She’d had it in for Katie ever since she’d been hired nearly eight years ago. Rumor had it that her one goal was to get Katie out of the
Institute, preferably by scandal, ensuring the gossip would follow her everywhere she went professionally. Lucy clearly saw her as a threat, though for the life of her, Katie couldn’t understand why. She didn’t even know what Lucy did besides torment her.