“What are you saying? Isn’t she your stalker?” He looked at her, sounding genuinely hurt and confused. “I came here to save you.”
“Is that why you went after Cody and Burke?” I asked as he too raised his hands. “To protect her?”
“They would’ve hurt—”
“Shut up, Asher.” Petra’s voice turned steely hard. “Don’t you see what she’s doing? She’s trying to turn you against me.”
Right. And from the sounds of the stalker story she’d fed him, she’d be the expert at how to do that. Clearly Petra was the one calling the shots. I reached for my handcuffs.
“No one’s taking you away from me,” he shouted and sprang up so fast I didn’t see his can-filled fist coming until pain exploded in my head.
21
I staggered out of Petra’s house as a car swerved to a stop in the middle of the street.
Tanner.
The hand I was raising dropped to my side as he jumped out and sprinted toward a car backed into a telephone pole.
I blinked. “Hey, that’s my car,” I said to the empty porch. I pressed my hand to my pounding head. How long had I blacked out? My hand came away sticky. Staring at it, I took a couple of seconds to register that it had blood on it. My blood.
“You’re hurt.” Tanner stood in front of me, his face dark.
Huh. How’d he move that fast?
“I’m . . .” The frown on Tanner’s face made his deep brown eyes appear almost black. “Are you mad at me?” I tried to frown myself, but it kind of hurt.
“Of course not.” He reached out and grasped my upper arms in a surprisingly gentle grip. “Serena, can you tell me what—”
“Oh, no! She’s getting away!” I tried to jerk out of his hold, but his grip tightened. “Tanner! We have to go after her.”
Why was he just standing there, letting our suspect get away?
“Serena,” he said.
My gaze raked the empty street as I pried at his fingers, but he only released one arm, then reached into his coat pocket with his free hand.
“Serene-uh,” he said, and the softness of his tone penetrated my panic.
“What?”
He held up a clean white tissue. “Hold still.”
“Oh.” Mesmerized by the gentleness in his eyes, my hands dropped to my sides as he pressed the tissue carefully to the side of my head.
“Didn’t your airbag go off?”
“My—?” I pulled my eyes from his and focused over his shoulder, on my smucked car.
“Oh.” I took over pressing the tissue to my head and backed up a step. “I wasn’t in the car. I was in the house talking to Petra when Asher showed up and jumped me. They raced off in her car and must’ve rammed mine to get it out of their way.”
Two police cruisers careened to a stop on the street, corralling our vehicles between theirs. Thanks to Petra’s fevered escape, in addition to being a suspect in my initial investigation, she was now facing charges for aiding and abetting an assault, reckless driving, and leaving the scene of an accident. But by the time Tanner and I fielded the officers’ questions, and convinced them to freeze and seize her house so we could get the paperwork started on a search warrant, not to mention issue a BOLO for Petra’s car, I was desperate for a pain pill.
“You got any ibuprofen or acetaminophen on you?”
Tanner finished issuing directions to the tow truck driver for my car, then guided me to his SUV. “You can ask them that at the hospital. I think we’d better let the doctor look at you before you start popping pills.”
“I don’t have time to sit in the ER. We still need to get a judge to sign the search warrant, talk to Burke.” The ground seemed to undulate under my feet, and Tanner tightened his grip on my arm.
“Tell you what. I’ll take you to the hospital Burke is in. Okay? Petra’s house can wait.”
I suddenly felt so woozy that Tanner practically had to hoist me onto the seat. “Yeah, okay.”
He fastened my seatbelt for me, as if I were a helpless three-year-old, and I didn’t even protest. In truth, the feel of his warm arms reaching across my middle and the closeness of his body felt incredibly comforting, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and snuggle into him.
Serena Jones, kick-butt FBI agent.
Straightening, he adjusted the belt at my shoulder. “You okay?”
“You smell good,” I said.
Tanner looked startled.
Oops, did I say that aloud?
His eyes smiled for just a second, then he gave me a sharp look. “Ooh-kay, definitely getting that head injury checked.”
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, sinking into my seat.
Too-ootally fine.
He grinned and patted my knee. “Good, ’cause I don’t want you throwing up in here.”
Ha. Such a nice guy. I was tempted to toss my lunch just to spite him.
The SUV hit a bump and I winced. “What are you doing? Aiming for the potholes?”
“Sorry.” He slowed right down, slanting anxious glances my way every time we hit the slightest bump. Then when we reached the hospital, he insisted I wait for him to bring a wheelchair out for me.
“I can walk,” I insisted, although as I leaned on Tanner’s arm, I wasn’t so sure he could. He seemed to walk on a tilt.
The ER doors slid open and Tanner stiffened as a familiar male voice said, “Whoa, what happened to you?”
“Nate!” My happy tone earned me a sharp look from Tanner. “What are you doing here?”
“Theresa accidentally jabbed her husband’s eye with a knitting needle.” Nate grabbed a wheelchair and positioned it beside me. “Here, sit, before you fall over.” He reached for my free arm.
“Do I look that bad?”
“Yes,” Nate and Tanner said in unison as they had a tug of war over helping me into the chair.
I grabbed the armrests and lowered myself under my own steam. “I had a run-in with a suspect.”
Nate looked me up and down. “Do you ever have a normal day?”
“Sure. Once. It was a Tuesday, I think.”
He smiled. “At least you’ve still got your sense of humor.”
Tanner grabbed my wheelchair’s handles. “Hey, thanks for helping out, Nate. We really appreciate it.”
Nate’s smile dimmed.
Tanner’s grew cocky. “Don’t want to keep you. Sounds like someone better go referee that knitting needle altercation.”
Nate nodded, stepping out of the way, but he shot me a wink. “Let me know if you need help with anything. Okay? You want me to look in on Harold?”
“Yes, thank you. That would be good.”
“Happy to help.”
“Regular Mother Teresa, that guy,” Tanner muttered under his breath as he steered the wheelchair toward the triage nurse. Amazingly, he sweet-talked her into fast-tracking me straight into an examining room, then slipped away and soon returned with Burke in a wheelchair, and his lawyer. And . . . the signed search warrant.
“How on earth did you manage to get this so fast?” I asked.
“Guess the judge likes your smile.” He winked.
“The judge was in the room next to my client’s, visiting his mother,” Burke’s lawyer interjected.
Tanner shrugged. “That too.”
Burke looked much better than he had yesterday, not counting the pasty color his skin turned when he caught sight of my gash.
“I’m so sorry,” Burke said. “I never would’ve taken Petra’s offer if I thought people were going to get hurt. I just . . .” He shook his head. “The paintings were sitting there in storage doing nobody any good, and I thought if a couple could save my dear Ella’s life, what was the harm? It could be decades before anyone went looking for them.”
I sympathized. I really did.
“I never imagined they’d kill Cody to ensure his silence or”—his voice cracked—“go after you.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me.” I strained not to wince as the do
ctor slathered my stitches with another douse of antiseptic. “I’ve got a hard head.”
Tanner grinned. “Yeah, she’s the hardest-headed agent I’ve ever trained.”
I shot him the evil eye, and our bantering seemed to put Burke at ease.
The doctor wrote me a prescription for pain meds and handed me a list of symptoms to watch out for. “You’re good to go.”
Tanner walked him to the door. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll just use this room for a few moments longer.”
“Okay, how about you walk us through the whole story?” I said to Burke as Tanner pulled out a notebook.
Burke’s gaze dropped to his hands twisting in his lap. “Petra said that for $20,000, she could find someone willing to donate a kidney to my wife. I figured she meant someone from a poor country, like where she came from, you know? So I believed her. But I told her I didn’t have any money.”
“What did she say to that?”
“She suggested stealing a couple of paintings from storage. She said she knew a guy who could sell them under the table and no one would find out.”
“When did you steal them?” Tanner cut in, probably testing his decoy theory.
“Just before Christmas. When everyone was fussing over that girl that went into anaphylactic shock.”
“Did Petra plan the diversion?” I clarified.
Burke frowned. “Not that she told me. But that morning, she did say to be ready.”
I sighed. It was enough to cast suspicion but not to nail her. “Okay, continue.”
“Since I didn’t know if she’d really come through with a donor, I only gave her one of the paintings and told her she’d get the second when my wife got her kidney. Every week since, she’s given me an update on the donor search, so I really thought she was on the up and up. But then after the museum called you in, someone broke into my house and stole the second painting. That’s the real reason I rushed home that day you were at the museum doing interviews. But I couldn’t report the theft and she knew it.”
“A fool and his Monet are soon parted,” Tanner quipped.
I rolled my eyes. “It was a Rijckaert.” I returned my attention to Burke. “You think Petra stole the painting?”
“Well, someone she sent, since she was working. No one else knew about it. And it was the only thing that was taken.”
“What about Cody? Didn’t he know about it?”
“Yeah.” Burke stroked shaky fingers over his forehead. “He confronted me the day after I took the paintings. Said he knew what I did. He figured I was desperate to pay my wife’s medical bills, but he said that wasn’t the way. He said he didn’t want to report me, but he would if I didn’t return them.” Burke’s eyes squeezed shut. “I told Petra about his threats and she said she’d take care of it. I figured she’d make a deal with him. I never thought for a second she’d kill him.”
“Did you confront her about the theft from your home?”
“Yeah, she denied it and asked me how I was going to finish paying for my wife’s kidney. Intimated that if I couldn’t pay, she wouldn’t be able to deliver. I was furious and threatened to go to the police, tell them everything. But she warned me that I was the one who’d go to jail, since I did the stealing.”
I nodded. Petra had no doubt chosen Burke as her thief for exactly that reason.
Tanner showed him a photo lineup that included Asher Cook, and Burke picked Cook out, without a moment’s hesitation, as the man who’d attacked him, despite his earlier claim that he hadn’t seen his attacker. Amazing how a little immunity could loosen the tongue.
We were just wrapping up our questions when Aunt Martha called.
The baby shower! I glanced at my watch. Whew. I wasn’t late yet. “Hi, Aunt Martha, what’s up?” I asked cheerfully.
“Thank goodness you answered the phone,” Mom, not Aunt Martha, exclaimed in my ear. “We heard a report of a federal officer being assaulted and the car in the video looked like yours, and then you didn’t show up to ride with us to the shower. You haven’t forgotten the shower, have you?”
“No, I haven’t forgotten. But I might be a little late.”
“Were you even going to call?” Her pitch rose exponentially, and I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Didn’t you know we’d be worried? And you know how nervous I am about calling when you’re working. I’ve been so scared you were wounded, I could kill you myself!”
Tanner laughed out loud.
“Is that Tanner? This isn’t funny!”
Tanner took the phone from me. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones. I’ll make sure Serena gets to the party ASAP.” Then he clicked off before I could say anything more.
“Tanner, I have a splitting headache. I don’t think I’m up to making googly eyes over baby blankets.”
He helped me up from the examining table. “You have to. I promised I’d deliver you.” He plucked the paper the doctor had given me from my hand. “We’ll fill your prescription on the way and get you good and doped up,” he added with a wink.
My cousin’s house was decked out in streamers and bows and, from the look of the cars lining the driveway and street, stuffed to capacity with giddy women from fourteen to ninety-four. All of my mom’s four sisters lived within a four-hour drive and guaranteed every last aunt and girl cousin would’ve made the trek. I flipped down the visor mirror and adjusted the funky beret Tanner had scooped up for me at the pharmacy.
“It looks good,” he said. “No one will know.”
I touched up my makeup. “Sure, if they’re polite enough not to question why I have a black eye.”
He grinned. “Just tell them you lost a sparring match with your partner.”
“Ha! They’d never believe it.”
“True,” he said with a wee Irish lilt. “A guy who looks like Pierce Brosnan would never hit a woman.”
I giggled, then immediately grabbed my head. “Oh, please, don’t make me laugh. It makes my brain hurt.”
He handed me the gift bag we’d retrieved from my apartment. “Get out of here. And have fun. I’ll call if we locate Petra and Asher.”
“And supervise the search of the house?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks.” I let myself inside to avoid drawing attention to my late arrival and slipped my gift onto the stack in the center of the living room, then made the rounds. “Suzie, look at you,” I exclaimed when I reached my cousin from Kansas. “I didn’t know you were expecting too.”
A sweet blush swept across her beaming face. “I’m due in June.”
“Congratulations!” I hugged my way around the rest of the circle, and after I’d congratulated Janessa, the mother-to-be, a cousin two years my junior, my mother caught my hand.
“Doesn’t she look happy?”
“Yes, Mom, she looks very happy.” Of course, what Mom was really saying was, “Wouldn’t you like to be that happy?”
Just as Mom did a double take on my own looks, Zoe waved her arm from across the room and pointed to the empty seat beside her.
I pried my hand from Mom’s. “We’d better grab our seats so they can get started.” I sprinted to Zoe’s side and plopped myself down. “Thanks for the save.”
“Are you talking about my saving you the chair, or saving you from your mother?”
“Both!”
“You know she only wants you to be happy.”
“And she wants grandchildren.”
Zoe chuckled. “Right.”
“And she wants me to quit my job.”
Zoe scrutinized my face, then peeked under my beret, as if she’d guessed exactly why I’d worn it. “Would quitting be such a bad thing?”
My Aunt Tina passed by with a tray of punch, sparing me from responding to Zoe. We both helped ourselves to a glass, then leaned back and listened to Suzie explain the game we’d be playing.
Three games later, the mommy-to-be started unwrapping gifts, and conversations around the room turned to plans for Valentine’s Day.
Z
oe squealed and grabbed my arm. “I forgot to tell you that your lawyer friend, Jax, invited me to go skating with him tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s great,” I said, happy she had someone to spend Valentine’s with.
My aunt Karen, sitting on my other side, nudged me with her elbow. “What are your Valentine’s plans?”
“Uh.” I glanced at my mom across the room and nixed the impulse to say I’d be tracking down fugitives. Instead, I grinned at Zoe. “We on for the 15th?”
“Raiding all the stores for half-price chocolate? You better believe it.”
“Mmm, good idea,” Suzie piped up from across the room. She rubbed her bulging belly. “Can never start them too young on chocolate.”
Aunt Karen tsked. “When I was your age, men used to bring chocolate and flowers and treat their sweethearts to a night on the town.”
“Sounds nice,” I said. And it did. I glanced around the room at all my smiling aunts and their giggling girls. Maybe Mom and Zoe were right. Maybe I should get another job or find a man and get married and have kids like my cousins. Spend my days taking them to the zoo and the science center and Turtle Park. I always loved climbing around on the giant stone turtles in Turtle Park. I could take them skating and to the history museum and the art museum. I’d have more time to paint. “I could finger paint with the kids too. That would be fun.”
“What are you talking about?” Zoe asked.
Oops, I guess I did the talking-my-thoughts-aloud thing again. I pressed my fingertips to my temple to ease the pounding that seemed to be short-circuiting my brain. It was on the tip of my tongue to make up a story about a new art class at the drop-in center that Nana—my dad’s mom—sponsored, but I was already feeling guilty about how easy it had become to color the truth to do my job, without letting the habit lap over to my personal life. I crossed my arms to stifle a shiver and, leaning toward her, lowered my voice. “I was thinking about having kids.”
“Without a husband?” Shock pitched her voice high enough to attract a few glances.
“No, of course not,” I whispered. “I’d get married first.”
“You actually have to date for that to work, you know.”
A Fool and His Monet Page 23