Conor sifted through a pile of photos. “What’s the value of all of this?”

She quoted him a modest figure. “That’s it?” He picked up a photo of a big metal pot and turned it over. Belenos Cauldron, bronze, 4th Century BC, Scotland, 1987.

She stiffened. “The true worth of these pieces is in their historical significance.”

“I apologize, Dr. Hancock. I only meant that the pieces seem undervalued to me.”

She sniffed, seemingly mollified. “Frankly, I don’t know why anyone would take the risk to steal our artifacts. They’re hardly things that could easily be converted into drug money.”

Yeah. Fencing a mammoth tusk would take some work.

“If the pieces weren’t that valuable, why were you fired?”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The Celtic collection was actually on loan from a museum in Edinburgh. The loss isn’t so much financial as an embarrassment.”

“What would you use a cauldron for?” Conor asked.

“Cauldrons were used in daily life for cooking and such, but this was a more ornamental piece. Given the weight and complexity of design, it’s more likely the cauldron was either a gift or an offering of some sort.”

The hairs on Conor’s neck wiggled. “Offering?”

“The Celts believed all forces of nature were controlled by the gods. Offerings were necessary for all aspects of life: good crops, success in battle, health, the weather. Usually these were conducted on one of the Celtic holidays.”

“They celebrated the solstices, right?” Maybe nothing was going to happen until June. They’d have more than a month to figure out what was going on.

“There are eight major holidays. The solstices and equinoxes, plus there were four sacred days in between. The next holiday is Beltane, or May Day.”

Uh-oh. So much for being safe until June. “When is May Day?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Shit.” Conor’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Danny’s number lit the display.

“What’s up, little brother?”

“Bad shit. That’s what.”

Conor’s gut tightened as Danny brought him up to speed on his disaster of a night.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” Conor ended the call.

“What happened?” Concern furrowed Dr. Hancock’s brow.

“Some people have gone missing.”

“Does it have anything to do with my stolen exhibits?”

“Maybe.”

She tossed back the rest of her coffee. “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll pack a bag.”

“Why?”

“I’m going with you.”

“No, you aren’t,” Conor said. “If I find your artifacts, they’re going to be with a killer.”

Dr. Hancock snatched her folder out of his hands. “You lied to me and broke into my office. I don’t trust you. For all I know, you could want the artifacts for your own purposes.”

“It’s too dangerous. You could get hurt. I’ll take the pictures with me and let you know if I find them.”