by Nana Malone
After a few short minutes of shuffling papers, East said, "Can I just tell you how much I miss my computer?"
I laughed. "Oh God, what would you have been without computers?"
He clutched his chest and gasped. "Thank God I never have to find out."
For the next thirty minutes, we searched and searched, and finally, East sat back. "We’ve got nothing on the missing persons. Nobody I’ve come across resembles Henry Warlow, or at least who we know to be Henry Warlow. But I did find something interesting in the police report from that day."
"What is it?"
"There was a report of an accident the day of the regatta, but we knew that. What it says here is that the boat the boys were on had eight boys on board. But there is an interesting story here that said that there were, in fact, nine."
I frowned. “But it was a sailboat. If there had been a stowaway, surely someone would have noticed.”
"Exactly. Anyway, there was a crash. And the boys had to be rescued. One of those boys was, as we know, Lord Jameson. He was wearing his family's crest on a nylon vest.”
I pulled out my phone and pulled up the image I’d taken of the photo in Jameson’s office and then handed it to him. "Is this the one?”
He took my phone and nodded. "Yup. It's the same one. Okay, so, what it's saying is that he was found dressed, his face badly battered. One of the other boys identified him as Walter Jameson."
"Who was the other boy?" I asked. He took a moment to search the report.
East's breath whooshed out of his lungs. "Holy fuck."
"What?"
Since he wasn't saying anything, I dropped my box off my lap and went over to him. "What is it? Tell me."
He glanced up at me. "The lad that identified Walter Jameson was Marcus Van Linsted."
My stomach flipped. "Holy fucking shit. You're telling me Marcus Van Linsted identified Henry Warlow as Walter Jameson? Do you think he knew?"
"It's hard to tell. The only reason it was noted was because there was another witness, presently unnamed." He frowned. "It doesn't say who it was, it just says a young man on site to watch the regatta was the witness who declared that there was another passenger on the boat. But everyone else on board insisted that there were only eight of them."
"Okay, so someone's aware that there was another person on board that sailboat. Who was it?"
He scanned the photos that were in his hand. "I don't know. Check the other box over there."
They were all marked with the same date, and I pulled them out. There were several news clippings from the day of the regatta, and I looked through all of them. Most of them were inconsequential, the crowds, the boats… And then I stopped and frowned at one photo in particular. East leaned over. "What? What do you see?"
I pointed. "Okay, it's low light in here, but who does that look like to you?"
He leaned over me, and his scent immediately enveloped me, making me wish we'd stayed in bed that morning. He must have noted the sudden tension around me because he lifted his brow and smirked. "Is something wrong, Agent Kincade?"
"You just focus on what you're focusing on."
He gave me the devil’s own grin. "Yeah, okay, for now. But I have certain parts of Milan I want to show you desperately."
I laughed. "Is that what we're calling him now?"
"What, Agent Kincade? You're being lewd and suggestive. And I love every moment of it."
I shook my head. "Focus."
He leaned over me once more, and then he stopped suddenly. "That's Theroux."
I nodded. "Right? That looks just like him."
“Sure. He’s younger, but that's fucking Theroux."
“Christ. What does this mean?”
East’s voice was distracted. "Actually, hold on, hold on. There was one investigator, Mathias Tutone, who interviewed the witnesses. He pulled all the fingerprints from the boat that day just in case there was evidence of foul play. But then the crash was ruled accidental, the fingerprints were considered inconsequential and never matched up."
I pulled the fingerprint files out and scattered them. "All right, so we have fingerprints, but it will be impossible getting anyone on the boat to surrender theirs after thirty years. Van Linsted’s we have, but not the others.”
East grinned at me then. "Unless we figure that if Theroux is looking for Warlow, that means Warlow associates with thieves. And if he associates with thieves, he has probably been in trouble before. So his fingerprints would be on file.”
I stared at him. "I could fucking kiss you."
"Well, I'm game, because you are looking very, very sexy."
I laughed. "God, I love you so much."
"The feeling is mutual. And while I could, you know, make this day even more festive, I'd much rather show you the sites of Milan then spend the rest of the evening in the comforts of our own bed."
I grinned. "Yeah, I can get behind that plan." I held on to the fingerprints and the photos that we found. “We are this much closer to having him, East.”
He stood, closing up his box and ridding the table of all the files that we weren't taking. "I know. We make a hell of a team, don't we?"
"Yeah, we do." And I meant it. I’d thought that Denning and I made a great team because we had the same interests and worked at the same place, had the same career goals, but with East, this felt like a true partnership. The kind that lasted forever. And for the first time, that was something that I actually wanted.
East
Thankfully, we returned to the hotel without incident. We had Pietro as our security detail, but I’d also hired an invisible team that Nyla didn’t know about. Better safe than sorry. The lads were already trying to Facetime us before we even managed to close the door behind us. I liked that Nyla had already gotten used to my need to double-check security parameters before fully walking in, and she waited for me in the foyer while I ran all the checks to make sure that everything was good. Pietro was posted at the end of the hall. Two more were in the lobby, and the other six were somewhere close by.
My phone buzzing gave me a jolt, but I picked up nonetheless, and saw Bridge's face on my phone. "Oh, you look happy."
Drew and Ben crammed into the frame, making Bridge purse his lips. "Do you see what I'm dealing with?"
I had to laugh. "I'll just hook up and connect you to the laptop, and then we'll update you."
I quickly changed my setup and put the phone on my tripod as I connected it to my laptop, and Nyla dragged off her long sweater, tossing it on the back of the couch before she sat down next to me.
When I could see them in a better frame, I could see that Livy and Emma were there, too. I saw Amelia as well, so I could only assume that Telly was off camera somewhere. "Hey, loser."
“Hey, loser.” Telly popped into the frame and then stuck her tongue out at me.
I could only shake my head. "What's it like to be second place, Tells?" All I could hear was her laughter as she ran off camera. I heard another female voice too. Ah yes. Telly’s wife, Carmen. “Looks like a proper party.”
Bridge just rolled his eyes. “We all wanted to celebrate a weekend without you. Now, can we get to the matter at hand? What did you find?"
I glanced at Nyla. "You tell them."
"Okay, well, good news and bad news. We've found nothing big we can use right away. But we did find some fingerprints that were taken from the boat that crashed."
Telly popped into the frame, pushing Ben out of the way. "I can run them if you want. Just send me the files, and I'll get on that."
I nodded my thanks. “Actually, if you can first find a record of any possible arrests Henry Warlow might have had and pull his prints, then we can compare them to those found on the boat.”
She nodded. "Sure thing. If he’s been arrested, I'll find him. I know you’re sad you don’t get to do this yourself.”
I gave her a smirk. "Well, I'd be faster, but seeing as I'm here and you're there, and it’s probably going to be faster because of your setup, I'll let yo
u have this one." Truth was, friendly competition aside, she really was brilliant.
She rolled her eyes and skipped off. Ben came back into the frame. "So, if we can find Warlow's prints and match them to the ones that were on the boat, what happens then?"
Drew piped up. "Well, that would mean we need to match them to Lord Jameson's."
“Exactly," Nyla said. "Amelia, you could probably try and get back into the estate and lift a set."
Amelia nodded. "Yeah, I could go, but Denning has got me on a tight leash. He doesn't want any more fuck ups. And Jameson is cagey, so I’ll need a really good reason to go. It will be tough."
Lucas shoved Drew out of the way. Finally, Ben just gave up and turned their device on portrait orientation. "Hold on, we need to prop it up so everyone can see. The gang is getting a lot bigger than it used to be."
"Why don't you look happy about that?" Emma asked.
He just shrugged and backed away, giving everyone more room to be in the frame. Lucas just shook his head. "With all due respect, Amelia, we can try the traditional route… Or I can just steal his fingerprints."
Bridge looked Lucas up and down, as if he was at all surprised by Lucas's penchant for stealing things. Although I wasn't sure why, Lucas made it clear exactly who he was.
"However we get them, you guys have this."
Amelia chewed on the end of her nail. "I mean, I can get it the legal way. It'll just take more time."
Lucas shook his head. "No, let me. Besides, I feel like Lord Jameson is an asshole. So he deserves what he gets."
Bryna just rubbed his back. "Amelia, you're going to learn that sometimes it's easier to just give him what he wants, because if he can't steal Lord Jameson's prints, he's going to steal something else. And none of us need that kind of headache at the moment."
Lucas grumbled, "I'm not going to just steal something for stealing purposes."
Bryna raised a brow. "So, you don't think Lord Jameson needs his comeuppance?"
"No, I do. And I can arrange that for him."
Bryna pursed her lips and waved her hand as if to say, See what I mean?
"All right, Amelia, I know that there's the legal way, but that's going to take time."
Next to me, Nyla nodded. "Yeah, that's true. We need to check the prints as quickly as possible then go from there.”
"Anything else?" Ben asked.
Nyla nodded again as I continued telling them what we’d discovered. "Yeah, here’s an interesting fact. The day of the regatta, reports suggest that all the lads were accounted for. But there was a secondary report. A witness said that there was one more body to be recovered. At the time, the police ignored it because no one else had a similar account. But the witness said that there was one more person on the boat. If this witness was right, then they didn't pull a body out of the water that day."
Bridge frowned. "So you're saying, Jameson killed Warlow, or Warlow killed Jameson?"
Nyla shook her head. "It’s too early to make that kind of assumption. But it’s possible that Warlow took advantage of the situation and assumed the identity of Walter Jameson. But what East left out is that the witness looked like a much younger Francois Theroux."
Shocked faces greeted us. Emma just let her mouth hang open as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you kidding me?"
Nyla shook her head. "No we're not. And to make matters stranger, on the day of the accident, Lord Jameson suffered lacerations and bruising to his face. He was hit by the mast and it broke his nose and a part of his jaw in addition to cutting him up pretty badly. He had to have his face reconstructed. When they pulled him out of the water, he had to be identified by his mates, and they made the ID by his clothing."
Ben winced. “Shite.”
I spoke then. "The mate that identified him was Marcus Van Linsted."
Ben cursed. Drew ran his hand through his hair, eyes wide. Livy wrinkled her nose as if she was trying to solve complex math equations on her head. Telly came back on screen then. "Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot."
I had to chuckle. "Yeah. They're all tied up in this mess somehow.”
Ben stroked his chin. "Look, you two just get back safely. Do the police have any word on who was waiting for you at the airport?"
Nyla shook her head. "No. Interpol's looking into it too. Similar cases. Looks like a hit squad. From what I could gather, some outfit for hire. That's all we have so far. Once we have names, we’ll be able to tell more."
Ben nodded. "Stay safe."
I hung up with the team and pulled Nyla close to me. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah. It's been a long couple of days. Looks like Milan will have to wait again."
I shook my head. "I promised. I am showing you the city and how beautiful it can be. There's no reason that needs to be postponed just because we've been shot at."
She laughed. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely. Get your coat back on and grab a snack, because we're going out. You deserve to see the sites."
“You have a protection squad.” She said it like a statement.
I paused and slanted her a look. “How long have you known?”
Her smile was impish. “Since breakfast.”
“Were you planning on saying something?”
“Nope. You looked so pleased with yourself.”
“Woman, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
She giggled and squealed as she ran to the bedroom to get dressed.
Chapter Eight
Nyla
The following Monday, I was back at work after my medical leave and still reeling from the trip when I had an unexpected visitor.
"You're back?"
Denning was the last person I wanted to see.
I'd been expecting this moment. And he was making his Denning-face. There was something about the way he pressed his lips together and narrowed his gaze that got my hackles up.
"I understand Hale kept you under his strict watch.”
“Is that part of any of your business?”
He pressed his lips firmly together. "I'm just saying that there were a couple of days that you weren't at your flat."
I lifted an eyebrow. "You had men watching me?"
"Well, I had a team on you as you were just shot. You are still part of my team and it’s my duty to protect you.”
I clacked my jaw at that. "My direct supervisor knew where I was, sir. It was suggested that a change of scenery and some R & R might do me well, so I took advantage of the time."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are we always going to do this, Nyla?"
I shrugged. "Hopefully not always."
"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad to see you're well."
He almost looked sincere. Unsure of what to say, I muttered, "Thank you."
He hesitated at my door. "Hazel said that hanging out with you was nice."
I winced. "Right. Yeah, I've seen more of her."
"Thank you for that. I know she doesn't really make friends easily. And she's new to the area, so it's kind of you to spend time with her."
I blinked in surprise. Were we actually have a polite conversation? "Um, okay. Sure. That's me, kind."
He sighed. "This is awkward for me, honestly. I'd rather you two weren't friends. But she seems to like you."
"I don't know why it would be awkward for you, Denning," I said with a straight face.
With a nod, he knocked twice on my door jamb, then strutted out. I couldn't help but smile to myself. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to kill him.
I realized that I'd been tensing my shoulders, which made them throb. I forced myself to relax and do some of the physical therapy exercises I'd been taught. The therapist came to the penthouse every other day to put me through my paces. First thing in the morning, so it wouldn’t impact work.
Turning back to my desk, I moved my mouse. I smiled automatically at the photo of East and I at Piazza del Duomo. The sunset had been so vividly intense, it felt l
ike we could reach up and touch the sky. The day tour of Milan had been great. People chasing us notwithstanding, I was glad we had an opportunity to go.
With Telly digging through fingerprints and Lucas going to get us Lord Jameson's prints, we were on the right path. So for me, it was just a matter of focusing on work.
Mostly, my work consisted of going through inventory of the artifacts and paintings we'd discovered at the car park, the authentications, tracking down registered owners… none of this was sexy stuff. But the amount of art that had been recovered by following the paper trail was astounding.
I knew when to pay attention. But when my eyes started to go bleary, I shifted to my other side project. The file Theroux had given me. I’d brought the box to work, because I knew that once I was home, there was no way East was going to allow me to work on it. He was going to insist on taking care of me. Which could be worse, but my brain needed to pick at the puzzle, or I was going to go insane.
I placed the box on my desk. I'd already been through half of it, but so far, nothing had given me any clues as to what I was even looking for.
It was mostly lots of information about Theroux. His movements, his known associates, how he managed his jobs. On one job in particular, he'd dressed up in character. He assumed an identity for three weeks. He posed as a teacher at a posh boarding school just to steal a ring. It wasn't just any ring, though. It belonged to Prince Skarsgard from Norway. In his teens, he'd been on an archeological dig with his father, and he found a priceless artifact believed to belong to Princess Anastasia. For those who followed Russian culture, that ring was priceless. But it sat there on the prince's pinky. Theroux knew he’d have the opportunity to get close to the prince when he attended a parents’ weekend at his son’s boarding school, and he crafted the identity that would put him in the right place at the right time. I had to give it to him. It was brilliant.
Lucas probably salivated over Theroux’s heists. From what I had read about Lucas himself, he had a very particular streak as well. Not as high-end or as public as Theroux's, but he'd still made a nuisance of himself in America.