poetry.”
“Rubbish, not science,” Philip agreed. “But there were solid facts. The Spaniards had already arrived. They were called ghost men, greedy and grasping, forever hungry. And the creator or creators of the codex scorned the phonetic alphabet the Spaniards introduced. This codex is true to the Maya.”
“So you have a translation?” she asked.
“It’s in my book,” Philip said.
Lina glanced around the study. “Which one?”
“The one I’m writing.”
“I remember when you started it almost ten years ago,” she said, her mouth tightening. “The first thing you took for your ‘scholarly study’ was the jade pendant that is presently gathering dust in your study. Where is your manuscript?”
“In my head. You think I’d trust it on paper or in a computer where anyone could steal it?”
“In your head,” she repeated. “What about your notes?”
“You must think I’m as stupid as you are.” He tapped his head. “It’s in here, all of it.”
She slumped back against Hunter’s chest and asked, “Is it ever going to come out?”
“Not until I have enough proof that no one can question it, or me,” Philip snapped. “I’ll never be made to look the fool again.”
“Really?” Lina gestured to the empty box in the open vault. “Looks like someone fooled you but good.”
The reminder bled the heat of indignation out of Philip, leaving him hollow and pale again.
“Who else knew about the codex?” Hunter asked.
“No one.”
“Pull your head out of your butt,” Hunter said impatiently. “Someone else had to know. The jungle only
“They wouldn’t have betrayed me,” Philip said, shaking his head. “I have too much information.”
“Who?” Hunter asked.
Philip just shook his head.
Hunter abandoned the direct approach. He’d circle back to it in a few minutes, then go in and around and back again and again and again, until Philip forgot where he had been, where he had drawn lines, what he had said, and what he didn’t want to say.
“Was the vault open when you came in today?” Hunter asked.
“No.”
“Who else knows the combination?”
Philip’s eyes widened. “No one. Do you think I’m crazy?”
Hunter doubted the other man truly wanted the answer to that question.
“If no one knew the combination,” Hunter said, “how did the codex go missing?”
The older man blinked, confused. “Lina must have—”
“Try again,” Hunter cut in. “That dog don’t hunt.”
Philip floundered, then said, “Celia.”
“How?” Lina straightened. “You said no one else knew the combination.”
“I don’t know.” Philip said sullenly. “I don’t trust females and I never have. You’re taking her side. You always have.”
Hunter wondered if that pout had got Philip far with his parents, peers, or estranged wife. It sure looked ridiculous on a grown man.
From the expression on Lina’s face, it wasn’t working on her either.
“Where do you write down combinations, passwords, that sort of thing?” Hunter asked.
“Why would I tell you?” Philip asked, but his eyes flicked toward his desk.
Lina headed for it.
“What are you doing?” Philip demanded.
She didn’t bother to answer.
“When was the last time you saw the codex?” Hunter asked.
A blink, a frown, a confused shake of Philip’s head.
“Yesterday?” Hunter asked.
Silence.
“Look at me,” Hunter snarled.
Philip stiffened and started to argue. A glance at Hunter’s eyes changed the older man’s mind. Whatever Philip saw made him even more wan.
“When was the last time you saw the codex?” Hunter repeated, his voice much softer than his eyes.
“I…what day is today?”
“The twenty-first of December, 2012,” Lina said without looking up from her search through the desk’s belly drawer. “Abuelita’s birthday.”
“I know the year,” Philip said, contempt dripping.
“Good for you,” Hunter said. “The codex. When did you last see it?”
The older man frowned, trying to remember. “Three weeks ago. Maybe four.”
“Wow,” Lina said as she ran her fingers over the underside of the drawer. “You sure were working day and night on that translation.”
“You will show respect to—” Philip began.
“Why?” Hunter asked. “You sure as hell don’t respect her.”
“I’m her father!”
“Yeah. I have a hard time believing it. Makes me understand the whole idea of changelings and babies mixed at birth.”
“Fuck you!”
“Not even if you had tits,” Hunter said.
“Found it,” Lina said before the conversation could degenerate any further.
“Okay, so anyone with a brain and twenty-twenty vision could have found the combination,” Hunter said.
“My study is always locked.”
“Not a problem,” Hunter said. “I could get in without leaving a mark. Big locks don’t make a big difference.”
“You’re in this with her!”
Hunter told himself to be patient, he was dealing with a man under a lot of stress, a man who apparently hadn’t been too stable to begin with. He wondered if giving Philip another smack would settle his thoughts into more rational lines.
Reluctantly, Hunter let go of the idea. “Lina, when was the last time you were here?”
“End of July. Then I had to go back to Houston and prepare for my classes.”
“It was you,” Philip said almost desperately. “No one else could have understood the glyphs. You always thought you were better than—”
“If you accuse Lina again,” Hunter said, “I’ll turn you over my knee and spank your bony butt until you cry like your not-so-inner child. You hearing me?”
Philip’s mouth flattened, but he nodded, which proved what Hunter had begun to suspect. Philip wasn’t truly crazy. He just needed someone to remind him of his manners frequently—someone stronger than he was.
Hunter didn’t like the older man any better for the realization that Lina’s father was a bully with a side order of irrationality.
“When was the last time Celia was here?” Hunter asked.
Philip shrugged.
Lina walked over to stand at Hunter’s side. “She came in October. Abuelita was ill.”
