Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes Page B

could do it. When the thieves showed at 1:00 a.m., I would play dead until Emery, watching security feed on his laptop, told me what the thieves were after, which we both believed was an artifact from the exhibit that the microchip had been hidden in. This would be my signal to spring from the coffin and take the thieves by surprise. Once I knocked them out cold, I would grab the artifact and hightail it out of the museum. Emery would then trip the alarm, and the police would show up to find the thieves unconscious. I prayed like crazy Emery’s dad wouldn’t be among them.
    As Emery had given me the rundown, I struggled with whether or not to tell him about his father’s involvement, but concluded it still wasn’t the right time. For better or worse, we had to get the microchip before revealing what I’d heard in the tomb—or before Mr. Phillips exposed his involvement by being arrested. We’d deal with any repercussions then. However, my resolve didn’t do a thing to alleviate the tremendous guilt I felt about keeping Emery and Serena in the dark. My only morsel of consolation was that this was exactly what they would do if they were in my shoes.
     
    ~~~
     
    At 10:59 p.m., I zipped my black jacket over my new yoga outfit, yanked on a black ski mask, pushed my window open, and leapt out, landing in a crouch in our grassy side yard.
    Masked, Emery waited for me on the sidewalk. We walked briskly to the end of our block before removing our masks and continuing on to the bus stop at the bottom of Queen Anne Hill.
    Fifteen minutes later, we exited the metro bus in front of the museum. Circling the large building, we made our way down a dimly lit alley and stepped into the alcove of a dark doorway next to the museum’s loading dock. After ensuring no one was watching, Emery flipped on a flashlight so he could see. With my feline night vision, I had no problem, of course.
    “Is your earpiece in?” Emery lowered into a squat.
    “Check.”
    He placed the flashlight on the ground and slid his laptop bag and backpack off his shoulder. I realized then that I hadn’t offered to carry one of the bags, having been consumed with fretting and thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong.
    “Where’s your phone?” Emery pulled the mummy costume from the backpack.
    “Oh, right. Thanks for reminding me.” I took the phone from my coat pocket and had a duh moment. My yoga pants didn’t have pockets.
    “We’ll establish a phone connection when you’re in the coffin,” Emery said, while I tried to figure out where to put my dang phone. There was only one option that would work.
    Checking to make sure Emery wasn’t watching, I quickly slid the phone into my sports bra.
    “Sheezzzz,” I gasped when the cold plastic touched my skin.
    “What?” Emery asked without looking up.
    “Nothing.” I unzipped my jacket and slid it off. The icy air bit into my bare skin, producing another gasp. “It’s freezing.”
    “This will warm you up.” He handed me the costume. While I put it on, he prepared white and gray face paint. “Just like old times.” He smeared white paint on my face.
    “At least it’s not purple.” I aimed the flashlight beam upward so he could see what he was doing. Before we stormed King Pharmaceutical, he’d had me dress in a ninja costume and had painted my face purple.
    “Now for some decay.” Emery daubed gray paint over the white base, rubbing more over my lips with his index finger. “You look like death itself.”
    “Charming,” I replied.
    “Not my best work.” Emery patted a bit more gray along my cheekbone. “But it will do for our purposes.”
    After fussing with the mummy hood and arranging the gauzy fabric over my face just so, Emery took out his cell phone. He struck a few keys and announced, “The alarm is off, and the camera feed is looping.”
    “That’s my cue.” I forced a brave expression, not that it mattered with my face all covered in gauze, anyway.
    Emery