Free Secret of the Scroll (Greg McKenzie Mysteries) by Chester D. Campbell Page B

sheets of plastic and back it with cardboard. It won’t stand much more handling. By the way, I guess you know it’s against Israeli law to remove something like this from the country.”
    “I suspected as much,” I said. “But I had no idea this is what I had bought as a souvenir.”
    “I think you should call the Israeli Embassy and let them handle these people, whoever they are.”
    “I wish I could,” I said. “But there’s a complication I didn’t mention. I don’t believe it would be advisable for either of us if I did. But I really appreciate your help. And I promise to let you know how it turns out.”
    The look he gave me said he was against what I was doing. Nevertheless, he found some plastic sheets in a closet and sealed the flattened scroll inside, then taped cardboard in front and back. I left his house with what had the look of a large picture or a poster. It was about the size and look of a package I had sneaked into the house for Jill some years back, a portrait of her mother and dad based on an old photograph. I had surprised her with it on her birthday. She was as emotional as I’d ever seen her when she opened it. She gave me a bear hug. Right now I ached for that closeness.
    That was how I remembered her as I placed the package in the back of my Jeep. She had been gone for only a few hours, but I could not have missed her more. I slid behind the wheel, feeling the Beretta’s butt hard against my ribs, and headed for home.
     
     
     
    Chapter 12
     
    The temperature had dropped since my arrival at Dr. Welch’s, but I wasn’t sure if it was the mercury or the madness that was getting to me. I glanced at the dashboard clock. The red figures glowed 6:10 . I was just turning onto the interstate ramp when my cell phone rang. It was early for the Palestinian. I pulled out the phone and pressed the talk button.
    “This is Jay Rogers, Greg. Ricky is chomping at the bit to bring your mail over. He got out of school early this afternoon and started over there with it but saw Jill leaving with some folks. I’ll bring him over there if it’s okay.”
    Leaving with some folks?
    No doubt Ricky was still in the woods and they hadn’t seen him. But what had he seen?
    “I’m on my cell phone just leaving downtown,” I said. “I can stop by your place on the way home.”
    “Okay. Sorry to bother you.” He lowered his voice. “I think Ricky is anxious to collect whatever Jill promised him. I hope it wasn’t much. He’s been making exorbitant demands for doing his chores.”

“We appreciate his help, Jay. I’ll just pull up in front and you can send him out with the mail.”
    Traffic was much lighter now on the outbound side of I-40, while a steady stream of cars was headed toward downtown Nashville . I figured they were probably en route to a Predators hockey game, an evening of theater or a tour of the live music bistros. I envied their ability to face the evening with pleasant anticipation.
    Chandler Road looked dark and foreboding as I approached the Rogers ’ home, but I knew it was just my mind playing tricks. Their driveway circled in front of the house, and I stopped near the porch, then tapped my horn. Ricky came bounding out the door with a paper grocery bag. He was a gangly youth, mostly arms and legs. I lowered the window and accepted the mail bag as he came around.
    “Hi, Ricky,” I said. “Your dad told me you saw Jill leaving with some people earlier.”
    “Those men,” he said, smiling. Ricky had a way of speaking that sounded like shorthand. His mother told us it was from an older brother talking incessantly, forcing Ricky to work to get a word in edgewise.
    “Were there two of them?” I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
    “Three.”
    “Did you see their car?”
    “Was a van.”
    “Minivan?”
    He shook his head. “A big one.”
    “What color was it?”
    He thought a moment. “Green. Dark green.”
    “Anything else you remember about it?”
    “Had a white