He couldn’t see her face, but the tension in her body told him how tightly strung she was. His voice whispered through the darkness like another shade of night. “Is the gold here now?” “No. But . . .” Risa rubbed the gooseflesh on her arms. “Can’t you feel it? It was here. And something still is.” “Yes, I feel it. I just didn’t identify it as fast as you did.” “Practice,” she said bleakly, looking around Virgil O’Conner’s empty cabin. “Christ, I hate feeling like this, knowing I’m different. Maybe I should have been a nurse instead of a curator.” “Maybe I should have been a proctologist.” She gave him a disbelieving look and then laughed out loud. “Sorry. Was I whining?” He touched her cheek gently. “You’re entitled. If there was a way to keep you out of this, I would.” “If you tried, I’d fight you tooth and nail.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “Could be fun.” Shaking her head, she started pulling out dresser drawers. There weren’t many clothes to look at.
