A/N: Thanks for the comments, Leya and Virtute! I love hearing what you have to say. And yes, Emily's a bit stressed out with everything that's happened, so she's kind of missing the obvious. LOL Maybe someone will help her to see the light soon. Thanks again to all who are reading!

Chapter 17

"See anything in the police reports?" Joe asked his brother later that morning in the museum lobby.

Frank stood at the main desk, reading over what Collig had collected so far from the patrons and the staff. "It's pretty much everything you described. Lights went out, panic, nobody could see anything, then glass breaking and gunshots."

Joe sighed. "So why do you think museum security dropped the ball on this one?"

"They're amateurs." Frank looked up. "They're in way over their heads. I mean, they have a fairly antiquated security system, they're not allowed to carry firearms, except for Mitch, and they have no budget."

"Yeah, I guess the university figured the Bayport Art Museum was low on the list of possible targets for violent crime."

"You know what's bugging me? Emily said there are more valuable items in the museum's collection than the Scottish artifacts. Much more valuable items." Frank leaned against the chair. "That's a huge clue right there. If these guys were truly art thieves, then why not take the art worth the most money? The museum was pitch black, they could have easily snatched the Rembrandt or the Monet. Not to mention some of the other paintings or sculptures."

"So you're saying the perps aren't art thieves?"

"Not in the traditional sense of the word." Frank began pacing back and forth. "Think about it. If they were truly after this stuff to resell it on the black market, why just take a Scottish dirk, an ox horn and a few other trinkets and baubles? Why not go for paintings worth multiple millions of dollars? That doesn't even make sense."

"So we're back to motive?" Joe leaned against the reception desk. "The motive for this crime clearly wasn't money."

"No." Frank sighed. "And, like Collig said to me earlier, until we figure out the motive, we're going to be hitting a lot of dead ends."

"Besides finding Perriton, I want to watch the surveillance video taken last night. There's got to be some sort of clue on that."

Frank nodded. "I'm sure Collig's already confiscated it. Maybe we can have a look at it down at the station."

Joe glanced up as he saw Emily enter the room, approach Chief Collig and hand him some papers. "She looks completely exhausted," he said to Frank.

"Yeah, I'm sure this isn't what she expected when she signed up for an internship here."

Joe smiled at her as she approached them and she gave him a faint smile in return.

"I'm sorry, I need to get a phone number from that Rolodex," she said to Frank who was standing in the way.

"Oh, sure." He stepped aside. "How's it going?"

She sighed. "I've spent all my time with the insurance company and I'm not done yet. Unfortunately, Evan put the witch box and the charmstone on display last night with the other items, and now they're missing. We haven't even been able to verify they were sent to us officially and now they've been stolen."

"So no one in Edinburgh put those in the crate with the claymore?" Joe wanted to know.

"No one has admitted it so far and no paper work has turned up on either end."

Emily bit her lip and Joe found himself transfixed, imagining what it would feel like to kiss her.

"So, not only do we have an artifact that isn't ours; we now have a missing artifact that isn't ours," she concluded.

"Sounds like a bureaucratic nightmare," Frank commented.

"Exactly. And, I don't really feel equipped to deal with it. I just don't know enough."

"Can't Evan help you?" Joe asked, moving closer to her.

Emily shook her head. "He's a mess. He doesn't handle this sort of thing well at all. And, Mr. Perriton is too busy with the police and the university. Not to mention all of the patrons who've been phoning. We're trying to get some of the staff to deal with those calls, but Mr. Perriton has had to speak to the more important donors himself."

She looked up at Joe and he felt himself getting lost in her eyes. A guy could drown in those.

"He's really worried that people are going to start pulling their donations. Especially after last night. To say that some of those people were shaken up is an understatement."

"Yeah, I can't imagine that crowd likes having to dive for cover while being shot at," Frank remarked.

"No," she sighed. "Some of them are even threatening lawsuits. Especially the ones who donated the money to hold the gala in the first place. It's hard enough to get support for the arts even under the best of circumstances, and now this."

Joe thought Emily sounded completely defeated. He could see her trembling as she looked at the destruction everywhere, her gaze flitting from the broken glass, to the overturned tables, and finally stopping to rest on the large smear of blood on the marble floor where Duncan had lain the night before.

Joe knew she'd reached her limit and that her brain and body were starting to rebel against the stress of the past week. "Come on," he said, gently taking her arm. "You don't have to do this now. Let's take a break. Have you eaten anything lately?"

She looked up at him, a confused expression on her face.

"Emily, did you have breakfast?"

She shook her head as she leaned over and reached for the Rolodex. "No, I didn't have time. I had to get to the hospital."

Joe took the Rolodex out of her hand and set it back on the desk.

"I need that, Joe. I have to get a number for Chief Collig."

"You have to eat something. Preferably something hot. An actual meal."

"No, I can't leave now. I have to help clean up." She gestured wildly. "This place is a mess–"

Joe took both of her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes. "We'll come back later. I promise." His voice was soft, but its authoritative tone made his decision final.

Emily nodded mutely and her shoulders slumped. Joe knew she was broken, tired, and fragile and he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms, and promise her over and over again that he would make everything okay.

Instead he pressed his hand against the small of her back and guided her gently toward the museum entrance. He looked back at his brother, who nodded, picked up the Rolodex and headed toward Chief Collig.

OOOOOoooooOOOO

Joe took Emily to a popular diner just off campus. The waitress seated them quickly in a booth.

"The usual, Joe?"

He laughed. "You know me too well, Connie." He raised his eyebrows at Emily and asked, "Is it okay if I order for both of us?"

She nodded mutely and as he placed the order, the waitress set down glasses of water. "Coming right up," she said with a wink for Joe as she walked toward the kitchen.

Joe smiled at her then turned back to Emily. He watched as she stared absentmindedly at her water glass and his brow furrowed. "Hey, are you okay?"

She looked up and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I'm not very good company at the moment."

"Don't worry about that. I just want to make sure you're all right."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "My mind is just going a hundred miles an hour trying to make sense of all this. I can't seem to relax."

"That's normal. But it doesn't mean you can stop eating."

"I guess I just haven't had much of an appetite," she said with a sigh.

Joe spotted the waitress heading toward them and grinned at Emily. "Well, you'd better find it soon, because you're going to need it for your breakfast."

Emily's eyes widened as the waitress set a large plate filled with pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream in front of her. She continued setting down plates of eggs, hash browns, sausage, toast and juice until Emily could barely see the Formica table underneath.

"Can I get you two anything else?"

Joe smiled. "No, I think we're good."

She nodded and stepped away and Emily stared over at him. "How many people are joining us for this breakfast?"

"Just us." He reached for the ketchup bottle.

"Joe, there is no way I can even eat a quarter of this."

He gestured towards her plate of pancakes with his fork. "I want that plate clean. You need the food. I know for a fact you didn't eat dinner last night and you told me yourself you skipped breakfast this morning."

"But..." she protested.

"Don't argue with me. Eat." He grinned at her and stuck his fork into a strawberry covered in whipped cream that was resting atop her pancakes. He held out the fork and leaned towards her. "Open up."

"Joe."

"Here comes the airplane." He twirled the fork in front of her face and Emily laughed out loud. He took advantage of it and slipped the strawberry into her mouth. Her eyes widened as the cream covered her lips. She licked them clean with her tongue and Joe felt dizzy as he watched.

She smiled at him. "That was really good."

"Yes, it was." He raised his eyebrows at her and she blushed.

Reaching for her own fork, she bent her head and focused on the pancakes. After a moment, she said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so nice." She took another bite of her strawberry pancakes and moaned.

Joe's mouth went dry.

"And for breakfast. This is the most fun I've had in a week."

Me, too, he thought. Now if I could only hear that little moan while I'm kissing you, my life would be complete. "You've had a hard week. And, I just want you to know that Frank and I are here to help you. It's going to be okay. We'll solve this case and everything will be back to normal again." He watched as she struggled to fight back tears.

"You don't know how much that means to me."

"I don't want you to worry."

She sighed and nodded. "I'll try not to." She took a sip of orange juice. "Joe?"

He looked up from his plate.

"Do you think there's still someone after me? I mean, nothing's happened for the past few days. No notes or anything."

He paused as he swallowed his eggs. "I'm not sure."

She nodded and looked down again with a heavy sigh.

He watched her then said, "You may be right though. If the guy was only after information and he hasn't found it, maybe he's figured out you don't have what he wants."

She gave him a hopeful look and Joe felt his heart lurch.

"He hasn't sent you anymore roses, right?"

"Right."

"Well, then, maybe that part of the case resolved itself." He took a bite of sausage. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be careful, but maybe you can relax a little about that."

She sighed with relief and gave him a smile that made him tingle from head to toe.

"Don't worry. I won't let anybody hurt you." He smiled back at her. "Now eat."

OOOOOoooooOOOOO

Frank walked over to Collig with the Rolodex in hand. "You needed a phone number?"

"Yeah, that registrar guy. You know, the blond with the expensive suits?"

"Evan?"

"I don't know what his name is. All I know is I need him down here. He took off ten minutes after he walked through the door this morning. Said there was too much negative energy in here and it was messing up his aura." Collig looked at Frank. "Just what the hell does that mean?"

Frank stifled his laughter imagining "salt of the earth" Ezra Collig having to deal with the "art world of New York City" crowd. "I think it means being at a crime scene made him uncomfortable."

"Yeah, well, I don't have time for that. Call him and tell him to get back here."

"Will do." Frank surveyed the room. "Find any important clues?"

Collig snorted. "Not really. The professional criminals tend not to leave them laying around."

Frank cocked his head as something under one of the white tablecloths caught his eye. "What did you say?"

"I said...you're dealing with the big boys on this case, Hardy. The real criminals don't tend to give themselves away that easily."

Frank took a few steps forward and bent down to examine what looked like a scrap of knotted tartan. "Chief, do have gloves on you?"

"What?"

"Gloves." Frank gestured to the ground. "I want to check this out."

Collig pulled a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and handed them to Frank, who quickly tugged them on and reached down for the tartan. It was tied through a piece of cardstock the size of an index card with a handwritten note on it.

"Hmm." Frank held the note where the police chief could see it while he read it aloud.

"Vengeance is still mine. Do not forget, Duncan MacLean, the words of 'Glenara'. Yours in eternity, Elizabeth Campbell."

"What is this nonsense?" Collig looked disgusted.

"I don't know." Frank read the note again. "It sounds like someone is threatening Duncan. In a cryptic sort of way."

"Well, the note might be cryptic, but the gunshot sure wasn't." Collig sighed. "Put it in an evidence bag. We can't afford to overlook any clues."

Frank nodded. "You mean the clues the professional criminals don't leave behind?"

Collig gave him a look. "I don't need you to start acting like your smart ass brother, you hear?"

"Who do you think he learned it from?" Frank said with a grin.

"Your father." Collig answered as he handed him an evidence bag and walked off.

Frank chuckled as he deposited the note in the sack and headed towards the reception desk just as Joe and Emily came through the museum's main doors.

"Emily. Just the person I need to see," Frank called out.

"Did something happen?" An anxious look crossed her face.

"Well, nothing bad at the moment." He held up the bag. "Found an interesting note lying on the floor near Duncan's table. Can you tell me anything about it?" He laid the clear bag on the desk so Emily could read it.

"I've never seen that before in my life."

"Who's Elizabeth Campbell?" Joe wanted to know. "Does she work here?"

"Nobody by that name works here," Emily said, bending down to get a closer look. "That tartan isn't the fabric we used last night to decorate either. It's a different kind of plaid."

"What about this 'Glenara?'" Frank gestured to the note. "It's capitalized like it's a title or something."

Before Emily could respond, the phone rang on the reception desk. She answered it and rolled her eyes. "Could you hold on for just one moment?" She covered the receiver as she looked at Frank and Joe. "This is the insurance company again; I have to take it. Listen, Duncan has a whole library of books in his office on Scotland and Scottish clans. You're welcome to browse through them. I can answer one question for you though...'Glenara' is an old Scottish poem."

Frank nodded. "Thanks, we'll be in Duncan's office." He picked up the evidence bag and turned to leave with Joe.

Emily called out after them. "Joe, thank you again for breakfast. It was exactly what I needed."

He winked at her then headed for the elevators with Frank.

"Finally getting somewhere?" Frank asked as he pushed the button.

"One can only hope."