Buried Secrets by Kristi Belcamino (best ebook reader for surface pro TXT) 📗

and pink rose bedspreads. The rooms even had towels folded into those little swan things, which seemed happy enough.

The dining area oddly enough had white padded walls hung with pictures of tigers. But the best part of all, was that breakfast was included. Although as Dallas enlarged the pictures of the breakfast buffet and couldn’t identify a single food, she decided to pack an abundance of protein bars. Just in case. She was adventurous about food, but she also wanted to eat healthy. It would all work out. She was fretting over silly details. The truth was she wanted to avoid thinking about the possible consequences of her action: Losing her job.

But she needed to act now before she wimped out. And before the supposed threat to stop her grew more serious.

She mapped out a plan in her mind.

The first person she needed to convince was Sam. He knew how to run the software mapping system that would help her find the tomb.

She found him at the nearly deserted campus coffee shop, head bent down over his laptop, a coffee cup and the remains of a bagel nearby. He was sitting with Colton. For some reason, Dallas felt herself blush seeing Colton. They hadn’t spoken since she left the message telling him she was leaving no matter what.

“I think I know where Cleopatra’s tomb is,” Dallas said, not wasting any time.

“Surely, you can’t be serious,” Sam said.

“I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.”

The friendship formed between Sam and Dallas five years ago had blossomed out of their mutual obsession with movies. Sam was always hoping to stump Dallas with an unrecognizable movie line. But she’d always held her own, thanks to a childhood where she was insecure about her weight and looks and buried her loneliness by watching movies.

Colton was almost always lost when they started their back and forth.

“Airplane. 1980,” Dallas said, looking at Colton.

“Aha. That’s a good one,” Colton said. He turned to Sam. “By the way, she is serious. Dead serious.”

Dallas set her bag down and plunked into a chair to explain her plan. She would land in Cairo and head to the Ministry of Antiquities office for permission to visit the temples. She would fly or drive to each of them and determine which one was most likely the site of Cleopatra’s tomb.

“I’m sure he’s only going to grant me a temporary permit until I can gather evidence that I’m on the right track. That’s where you would come in.”

As she spoke, a frown spread across Sam’s face. It worried her and made her speak faster.

“With the scanning program, we could simplify the process, speed it up, have solid results to bring back to the minister to get a permanent permit to excavate—for as long as we needed.”

She paused, holding her breath, watching Sam’s face, waiting for his reaction.

“Dallas, I’m sorry.”

Her heart sunk. It felt like her entire body deflated.

“I would go. You know I would. In a heartbeat. It sounds amazing. But I’m leaving town right after this. That’s what Colton and I were meeting about.” He gestured toward a duffel bag on the floor by his feet that Dallas hadn’t noticed. “I got a call. A family emergency. My older brother was in a car accident. He’s fine, but he’s the primary caregiver for my mother. My mother lives with him and he drives her to her appointments and so on. It’s a long story. But I just told Colton I need a leave. I’m not sure when I can get back.”

Dallas felt like a heel. “I’m so sorry. I just barged in here and interrupted. I’m so sorry about your brother. Is he going to be okay? Is there anything I can do?”

He smiled. “Thanks. It’s just a matter of me moving home for a few months to help care for mom while he’s recuperating. Mainly until he can drive again.”

“A saint is a human being we celebrate for the sacrifices they make, for their commitment to making the world a better place,” Dallas said.

“Hardly.”

“You are, though,” Dallas said, her voice growing soft. “A saint.”

The three of them sat there for a minute until Sam said, “St. Vincent.”

“What?” Colton said.

“That was the movie she quoted,” he said.

“Damn. I thought maybe for the first time I’d stumped you,” Dallas said.

“No way.”

Dallas stood and grabbed her bag.

“I’ve got to go—meet the window repair guy at my place.”

Before she walked away, she turned to Colton. “I don’t suppose you heard back from the provost about my sabbatical?”

Colton shook his head. “I wish I had.”

Then Dallas realized what both she and Sam leaving meant.

“Oh my God. Are we totally leaving you in the lurch for the spring semester?”

“I think I can figure it out. I’ve got a grad student chomping at the bit to get some hours in. Don’t worry about that.”

After the window repair guy finished, Dallas grabbed her large backpack that worked as a small suitcase and carry on and packed a few items. Toiletries and a few extra pairs of cargo pants, tank tops and a jacket along with boots. She had no plans to dress nice anywhere so that made it easy.

While she was finishing business up with the window guy, Colton had returned her call and left two message: “I went in and talked to the provost. There’s no way to get the sabbatical approved right now. Best-case scenario is to get it approved before the spring semester begins.” He paused. “Do you have time for coffee before you go?”

Dallas shook her head listening to his message, even though he couldn’t see her. She pressed play on the second voice mail message.

“Dallas, I know this is important to you. But I … we … don’t want to lose you and your work. I hope you can make it back in time for spring semester. Otherwise you’re technically gone without approval. After talking to the provost, I’m worried you might not have a job to come back to if you’re