Dark of Night (Dr. Evan Wilding) by Barbara Nickless

Author:Barbara Nickless [Nickless, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2022-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Dawson showed them out.

“Did you sign a nondisclosure, Mr. Dawson?” Addie asked as they boarded the elevator.

“We all did.”

“And you aren’t uncomfortable with that?”

Dawson punched a button for the lobby. “Maybe a little. But I wholeheartedly support Mr. Kelley’s dream for his museum—I wouldn’t share what I’m learning even if I hadn’t signed an NDA. It’s better that all of our finds get announced together.”

In the ground-floor lobby, among insignias for the building’s other occupants, a display case with the Veritas logo caught Evan’s attention. This case held a basket of overturned apples. Coiled among the faux fruit was a taxidermized cobra, its hood flared, its tongue caught in midflick. A sign indicated it was a spectacled cobra from India.

“An odd way to advertise the Veritas Foundation,” Evan said.

“It’s not as if we can put something valuable here in the lobby,” Dawson answered. “But this was Tim’s idea. It’s supposed to be like the original serpent in the garden. It does catch people’s attention.”

“Chablain doesn’t share Indiana Jones’s fear of snakes?”

“He says he does. But I think it’s just part of his image. Mr. Kelley thought it was a brilliant concept, so here it is.”

Dawson leaned in until his forehead almost touched the glass. Man and snake seemed to regard each other for a moment before Dawson stepped away.

“I take it you’re not bothered by snakes,” Addie said.

“Bothered? No.” He shook his head. “I’m not overly afraid of them. But I do detest them. I grew up in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, and my parents were Pentecostals. It created a rift between us when I refused, unlike my siblings, to handle rattlers. I know Mark 16:18 says, ‘They will take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it will in no way hurt them.’ But I did it once, and that was more than enough.”

They walked to the front doors. Sunlight streamed through the glass. Dawson paused in the warmth, lifting his palms as if he were going to photosynthesize.

Addie tipped back her head to study him. “Your Mr. Chablain seems fond of theatrics.”

Dawson lowered his hands. “He’s flashy, especially with the way he waves around money.” Irritation edged his voice. “The work we do here is serious, and it requires serious scholarship. Sometimes that means sacrificing personal ambition for the greater good. It doesn’t mean a half-assed effort led by some second-rate movie-star wannabe.”

“You believe you’d do a better job as head of acquisitions?”

“On my worst day I’d do a better job than ‘Indiana’ Chablain.”

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