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should see what they did to the Giant
Elk exhibit. It will take us months to put it back together.”
    The director walked away. She hadn’t said a word about
David.
     
    Ingrid’s office was a mess, even worse than the night
before. Jake looked around him ruefully. “I wouldn’t have done such a good job
of thrashing the place if I’d known that I had to clean it up again.”
    It took them over an hour to sort out the chaos. A locksmith
arrived to repair the door, and by lunchtime the place was almost back to
normal. Ingrid had tried David’s number several times, but each time it went
straight through to voicemail. With nervous fingers, she tapped in Raoul’s
number, prepared to drop the phone if he answered. Nothing, just a voicemail
saying he wasn’t in the office. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about
him, but she desperately needed to find out if David was dead or alive.
    Jake sat opposite her, engrossed in a pile of magazines.
David’s office was on the next floor. She could just slip up the back stairs
and have a quick word with his secretary. There was no point in taking Jake
with her.
    “I’m just going to the ladies’ room.”
    “Want me to come along?”
    Ingrid smiled and shook her head. She closed the door behind
her and headed for the stairs. The desk outside the curator’s office was empty,
but the light was on inside. Ingrid opened the door slowly. “David?”
    “I’m afraid he’s not here, Ms. Sorrenson. Perhaps I can help
you.”
    Raoul.
    She didn’t notice the other man until he lifted her off her
feet. “Let me go, you bastard.”
    “Tut tut. Language, Ms. Sorenson. You and I need to have a
little talk, but not here.” Raoul nodded to the other man. “Take her to the
car.”
    Ingrid struggled in earnest, grinding her heel into his
foot. “You really are becoming a nuisance, Ms. Sorrenson.” She saw a fist
coming toward her, and then everything went black.
    * * * * *
    She woke up in a box. It was very dark, and she could smell
gas. When the box jerked forward, she rolled against a set of golf clubs. She
was in the trunk of a car and her hands were tied behind her back. Ingrid tried
to stretch. The side of her jaw ached where Raoul had struck her. The car hit a
bump on the road, throwing her against a hard, metal surface. She had no idea
how long she had been unconscious or where they were taking her.
    Why on earth had she decided to play detective alone? Why
hadn’t she taken Jake with her? Ingrid wriggled her hands, trying to free them.
They were tied with some kind of thin plastic, and much as she tried to move
her wrists, the plastic stayed stubbornly tight. Sweat trickled down her spine
as she wriggled in vain.
    She rolled onto her back, breathing heavily. Stop
breathing like that, S orrenson, you’re wasting air. Think. Just
think . Maybe there was something in the trunk that she could use to cut the
bindings. Oh yeah, like they’re going to leave a convenient knife in the
trunk along with the prisoner. It was no good, she was stuck here. Her arms
were beginning to feel numb and she rolled onto her side again. This time Raoul
was definitely going to kill her and she would never see her viking again. A
single tear escaped and rolled down her face. Oh god, Strom.
    The noise of other traffic lessened and the road surface
became lumpy and uneven. It sounded as if they had pulled onto a gravel drive.
The car pulled to a stop and Ingrid heard the doors opening. She closed her eyes.
She would have to play dead for a while longer. The man banged her head on the
door as he lifted her from the trunk and she winced, trying not to cry out. It
was lucky her hair was loose, because it covered the tears that streamed down
her face. That really hurt.
    “Take her inside,” Raoul ordered.
    The tiled floor in the hallway looked familiar. She was in
David’s house. He and his wife Barbara had hosted the last Christmas party.
What were they doing here? The man carried her upstairs