“I concur,” he said, but his stern, tight mouth said he wasn’t happy with her. “I’ll meet with the board and finalize a new date for the opening.”

“Thank you.” Louisa waited until everyone else had left the room. “Why are employees being asked to show a second piece of identification?”

Cusack stepped closer and lowered his head. “According to security records, an employee on maternity leave used her ID several times over the last few weeks. When we called her at home, she denied coming to the museum and couldn’t find her ID.”

“So someone was using her card to gain access to the museum?”

“That’s what the police think.” Cusack’s face pinched with displeasure. What were ordinarily small lapses in security were magnified in light of the three girls’ disappearances. “And Dr. Hancock?”

“Yes.”

“No more working late at night,” Dr. Cusack said, his eyes flat. “I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”

Louisa took an instinctive step back at his tone. Had that been concern or a veiled threat? With an agreeable nod, she bolted for her office. Along with the weird encounter with Cusack, the morning’s interview with the detectives lingered in her mind like the taste of burnt garlic. Who might know what was going on with the case? Damian. She’d called him earlier, but he hadn’t called back with any news.

She picked up the phone and dialed Damian’s number. “Are you free for lunch?”

Over the connection, she could hear papers shuffling. “I can shift some things around. Is it important?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m all yours,” Damian said. “How about a picnic at Logan Square? I’ll bring the food.”

Louisa hesitated. Damian favored sandwiches from the grease trucks that parked in University City, but she doubted she’d have much of an appetite. Plus, outside in the middle of the square with its geyser of a fountain, it was unlikely that anyone would overhear their conversation. “That’s great. Noon?”

“You’re on.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Let me pick you up,” Damian objected. “I don’t think anyone associated with the museum should be walking around alone.”

She hung up the phone with Damian’s warning echoing in her office. The director had sent around a press release, and using her smartphone, she busied herself sending out e-mails addressing the postponement of the exhibit opening.

At lunchtime, she picked up her purse, slipped into her jacket, and went into the outer office. April was slitting mail open with a letter opener with the efficiency of a butcher. Her eyes tracked to her monitor. Her mouth slacked open. “Oh my goodness.”

Louisa went round the desk. A banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen. LIVE BREAKING NEWS ON THE MUSEUM MURDER.

“What happened?” April leaned over the desk.

Louisa swiveled the monitor toward her assistant and turned on the volume.