Lancaster County Reckoning

by Kit Wilkinson

  Darcy turned and glanced out the window behind her. “That’s my car. I thought she was going to take me to it, not bring it to me?”

  A few seconds later, Blake and Abigail walked through the back door.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Abigail explained. “The car was ready early so Blake and I went on a lunch date to pick it up, went back to the hospital and finished our shifts, then thought we might as well just bring it straight to you.”

  “Thank you,” Darcy said, taking the key from Abigail.

  “We also wanted to offer for you to spend the night again.”

  “Oh, thank you. You’re so kind, but I need to get some of my belongings from home. We were just talking about the B and B. I’ll probably stay there.”

  Abigail and Blake stayed and chatted for a few minutes. Darcy thought they paid particular attention to her, probably trying to get a feel for whether or not she could drive. She must have passed the test, because they took their leave and said they hoped to see her soon at the hospital when she comes to visit Jesse. Darcy liked that it didn’t seem like a goodbye. Even though she knew that once she called Agent Danvers back, it very well could be.

  Thomas turned to her as soon as the couple had left. “If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

  Darcy nodded. “Then let’s get going.”

  Thomas followed her out to the car.

  “Would you like to drive?” she offered.

  “I can’t.”

  “Sure you can. You’ll like it,” she said. “It’s a zippy little thing.”

  “No. Really, I can’t. I don’t have a license.”

  “Oh.” Darcy climbed into the driver’s seat. He scooted in beside her on the passenger side. He was so big he filled in the whole space. He carried Jesse’s Bible.

  “I thought we’d finally take it to the hospital to read to Jesse.”

  “Good idea.” She took it from his hands and placed it behind the seat with her other things. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “About what?”

  “About Jesse giving me information,” she explained. “I was thinking when I get home I’ll grab the letters Jesse wrote to me. I figure it can’t hurt to look at them again. Right?”

  “Ja. You should. But, Darcy, you don’t plan to stay there, do you?”

  “At my town house? No. Not after being attacked. Your grandmother is right that it would be easy for them to figure out where I live. I like the idea of the bed-and-breakfast. You think they’ll have a room available?”

  “One way to find out.”

  Darcy called as they drove out toward the highway and made a reservation.

  After that, the drive seemed to go by in a blur. Darcy was tired and her head ached. It was a relief to arrive at their destination. She parked right in front of the town house. It seemed unusually dark. She exhaled slowly. Home. Finally.

  She collected her purse and started to climb out of the car. “You coming?” she asked Thomas.

  Thomas lifted his flip phone from his pocket, which had just started ringing. “I’ll be right there.”

  She gathered up her things from the backseat and made her way up the narrow walk. She clutched at her unzipped coat as the wind whipped through the town house complex. Stepping onto her stoop, she held out her keys to unlock the front door. It was so dark, she could barely see to insert the key into the lock. Squinting at the doorknob, she stumbled forward. Her shoulder brushed against the door and it swung wide open.

  Darcy gasped. She straightened herself and grabbed onto the door frame for balance, but she slipped. Her head pounded, as did her pulse. Never in a million years would she have left her town house unlocked. Someone had been inside her home.

  * * *

  “Hi. I was hoping to hear from you,” Thomas said into his old flip phone as Darcy walked up to the front of her town house.

  “I just heard from my friend at the Bureau, Agent Ross,” Elijah said.

  “Anything helpful?”

  “I think so... Agent Ross was able to get access to sealed courtroom records. He found out that the man who testified against Wissenberg was named Michael Finlay. And he was a curator at the Gregorian Museum in Washington.”

  “Now that we know Jesse’s real name,” Thomas said, “does that help us know what these people are after?”

  “To a certain extent. Wissenberg had a huge operation going. He stole art from private collectors around the world. Being the director of such a prestigious museum, he would easily get invitations into people’s homes. His team would study and copy the works. In many cases, they bribed the owners’ own cleaning staff or housekeepers to replace the original for the copies. It was sometimes months before an owner would realize he’d been robbed. Plus, Wissenberg took his time. He’d sometimes wait a year before executing a theft. It took a private art-insurance company doing years of legwork to even have a clue about what was happening, or how it was all connected. Wissenberg was so well-known and his work at the museum was so well respected that no one could believe it at first.”

  “Do you know how Jesse played into it?”

  “Yes, in addition to working as curator, he was a talented artist himself—and he knew plenty of other painters willing to create forgeries for the right price. He recruited the team of artists who often made the reproductions. Very good reproductions,” Elijah explained.

  “Do you think Jesse knew what his artists were doing?” Thomas dropped his head into his hands.

  “He knew about the forgeries, but I don’t believe he was willing to be complicit in anything more physically harmful. After Wissenberg shot that night guard right in front of him, Jesse went to the authorities and agreed to testify against him. Jesse admitted to his own role in the fraud and thefts, but charges were dropped in exchange for his testimony. Reports indicate that Wissenberg possibly threatened him. The day before the trial, he and his wife were in a suspicious car accident. Margaret Finlay was killed instantly, although it’s more likely that Michael—Jesse—was the real target.”

  “To keep him from testifying,” Thomas said.

  “Yes.”

  “But he testified anyway. And now Wissenberg is after him for revenge,” Thomas said, still trying to make sense of it all. “But how does that explain the threats?”

  “That’s where it gets more complicated,” Elijah admitted. “Apparently the system was that Wissenberg would pick the targets, commission the forgeries and then resell the originals, but the actual theft was handled by Jesse, working with whomever they had bribed inside the house. He’d take the frame off the original painting and replace it on the fake, then rehang it—he was the one with the experience and training to make the swap virtually undetectable. And then later, he’d turn the original paintings over to Wissenberg to resell. Wissenberg was the type to want to keep his hands clean—he was never actually there for the theft itself...except for one time.”

  “The night he shot the security guard,” Thomas said, realizing what had happened.

  “That’s right. Apparently, it was a special commission—he had a buyer lined up who didn’t want to wait. So Wissenberg went along so that he could deliver the painting directly to his buyer afterward. He wasn’t as used to slipping in unnoticed as Jesse, though, and the security guard caught them. You know what happened from there.”

  “But what does that have to do with the threats?” Thomas asked again.

  “The authorities were able to track most of the trafficked paintings, but Ross also found out that quite a few of the stolen originals were never recovered. There was some suspicion that Jesse had them, and never gave them to Wissenberg or the authorities.”

  “So Wissenberg thinks Jesse still has them.” Thomas closed his eyes. “How much artwork are we talking about?”

&
nbsp; “Ten million dollars’ worth.”

  Thomas shook his head. He was about to reply when he heard a scream come from the still-dark town house.

  Darcy!

  TEN

  “Elijah, I’ll call you back.”

  Thomas folded himself out of the small car and tossed his phone onto the seat as he raced to the town house’s entrance. “Darcy? Are you okay?”

  The front door was wide open and inside was nothing but darkness. Thomas stumbled over the threshold. “Darcy?”

  A scuffling of feet sounded from the back of the home and then there was silence. Thomas lunged forward, tripping over a mass in the middle of the floor. When he heard the whimpering noise below him, he realized it was Darcy. He spread his arms out over her to keep from landing on top of her.

  “Someone’s here,” she whispered.

  “I think they just left. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I was just knocked down.” Her voice sounded weak.

  “Where’s the light switch?”

  “It wasn’t working when I came in. They might have flipped the breakers, which are in the kitchen. All the way to the back,” she said. “Take my phone. It has a flashlight.”

  Thomas groped around for her bag. “This is your bag, but it’s empty.”

  “I guess whoever was here dumped it all out. Took something and ran.”

  Thomas felt around the floor and finally wrapped his hands around her fancy smartphone. “How do I—”

  “Swipe up,” she told him.

  The bright flashlight illuminated the small entryway. Using its light, Thomas first checked Darcy. He slid his free arm under her shoulder and lifted her from the floor. She clung to him. He wanted to pull her tighter and take away all her pain and fear. He was starting now to understand her anger. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She hadn’t done anything to bring this threat to her doorstep. And yet, here was this horrible danger. And it was sounding more and more like Jesse was to blame for it.

  “Here. Let’s get you to a more comfortable place,” he said.

  “There’s a couch. This way,” she said, directing him.

  He placed her down gently. “Whoever was here is gone now. But I’m sorry I didn’t walk in with you—”

  “Don’t be,” she interrupted. “You were here when I needed you. That’s what matters.”

  When she looked up at him with eyes of thankfulness, his heart melted. She was so beautiful. So strong and yet so vulnerable. He tore his eyes away. “I’ll go get that breaker.”

  He followed her directions to the kitchen, making his way around strangely placed items and furniture. He flipped the switch and the home lit up with soft lighting throughout, revealing a scene of absolute devastation. Ransacked. He made his way back to Darcy, who was already tearing up. “I’m calling the police now.”

  * * *

  Darcy pulled herself up to a sitting position and swung her legs back around to the floor. Her home looked like a wreckage site. Chairs had been toppled over, drawers opened and emptied on the floor, the contents of closets strewn about. She could barely process it all. Thankfully, Thomas had known what to do. He had called the police and was talking to them now. He’d also called Elijah, who was on his way.

  “Did you see who did this?” one of the officers asked Thomas.

  “No. I could hear the intruder leaving by the time I came in.”

  “And you, Miss Simmons? Can you describe the intruder?”

  Darcy shook her head. “No. He was behind me and it was very dark. But it didn’t seem like he was alone. I think one of them had a gun to my neck.”

  “And they left through the back door?”

  “Yes.”

  Darcy was growing tired. It was exhausting to have to answer questions about everything all over again. Thomas tried to intercept as many of the questions as he could. She was thankful for that.

  “Miss Simmons, we are almost finished here, but since you’ve been part of the witness relocation program, you’ll have to wait for an agent from the US Marshals to arrive. They’ll take care of you.”

  Darcy swallowed hard. She didn’t want to be taken care of. It seemed like the words were hardly out of the officer’s mouth before Agent Danvers was standing at her door.

  Just like at the hospital, she came blustering in, taking over the questioning and ordering the local authorities around. Darcy almost felt sorry for them except that at least the agent’s attention was focused on them and what they were doing in her home, instead of on badgering or pressuring her.

  “Elijah should be here soon. Blake is bringing him,” Thomas whispered to her. “They will take us back to Willow Trace.”

  “You think their offer to stay at the clinic still stands?” She looked over at him. What would she have done through all of this without him?

  “For sure.” Nodding, he smiled and the warmth in his expression spread all the way to her own lips, which she felt curl up into a grin.

  She reached over and touched her hand to his. “Thank you. Thank you for all you’ve done. You and all of your friends.”

  “The police are wondering what has been taken from your house. They want you to look around but I told them you couldn’t.”

  “Darcy,” Agent Danvers said as she came up behind them. “Did your father give you anything? Did he tell you about your past or about his past? Did he ask you to do anything for him?”

  “You’ve already asked her that.” Thomas stood and turned to face her.

  Danvers took a step back. Darcy didn’t blame her. Thomas was physically intimidating, even to someone as tall and fit as she was.

  “Mr. Nolt, I appreciate your...help. But I am going to need to get Miss Simmons to a secure facility.”

  A secure facility? Darcy had been scared before, but it was nothing compared to the panic that rushed through her now. What is this lady saying? A new identity? Not yet. She wasn’t ready for that. Darcy dropped her head between her hands. The pain seemed to triple. “Right now? I thought I had more time.”

  “Miss Simmons, surely this proves that you’re not safe. You need to leave with me. The sooner the better. I was trying to give you more time, but...well, it’s clearly too dangerous.”

  “You don’t have to go with her,” Thomas whispered to Darcy.

  Darcy shut her eyes tight. If she could have, she would have willed herself to disappear off the sofa and escape all of this. But wasn’t that what Agent Danvers was offering? So why not just go with her?

  * * *

  Thomas was glad to see Elijah and Blake pulling up behind the police cars in the complex’s parking lot. He hoped they could help convince Darcy not to go with Agent Danvers. Not now that they knew what Wissenberg was after. There was hope that they could get this figured out and everyone would be safe. Both Jesse and Darcy. Without anyone needing to start his or her life over. At least, it was worth a try. Maybe they needed to search Jesse’s cottage again. Maybe they needed to look at the letters Jesse had sent Darcy. But there were clues to follow—things they could do. He didn’t want her to go. What would he tell Jesse when he woke up if he had let his friend’s daughter walk away forever?

  Thomas hated seeing Darcy struggle so with the decision. He supposed Danvers was doing her job, but she was such a bully. And he was certain that Blake and Abigail could keep Darcy safe for at least one more night. Thomas filled in his friends on what had happened and why Danvers was there.

  “Well, I know how to put a stop to that,” said Blake. He stepped away and headed straight to the US Marshal.

  “She’s in shock,” Blake declared. “You can’t expect her to make a life-altering decision like this in her condition.”

  “This is exactly how these decisions are made,” the agent insisted. “If everything was all hunky-do
ry they wouldn’t need to be in the program.”

  “She has a head injury and is under my care,” said Blake. “I will not release her over to any agency until she’s had further treatment and an exam.”

  If Blake was bluffing, Thomas thought, he was doing a pretty good job of it. Thomas hoped it would work. He at least wanted to have the chance to tell her what Elijah had learned. She would want to know.

  “And you are?” Agent Danvers lifted an eyebrow.

  “Dr. Jamison, head of ER at Lancaster General,” Blake said.

  “I thought Miss Simmons was released yesterday after I met with her,” she said.

  “That is correct. However, we are waiting for some of the swelling to go down before doing a second exam,” Blake said.

  “So you’re taking her back to Lancaster?”

  “Yes,” said Blake.

  Danvers sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. She turned to Darcy. “Then I’ll expect a call from you as soon as this exam is over. I’ll pick you up at the hospital.”

  Darcy did not respond. She actually did look like she was in shock. Perhaps Blake’s words had been the truth.

  Danvers took her leave in a mad rush. Her frustration seemed to be oozing from her hard glare at Thomas and his friends as she walked out. Thomas was not sorry she was leaving alone. Darcy didn’t belong with her. That he was sure of.

  “I’m glad you got here when you did,” Darcy said. “Maybe I should go with her, but—”

  “No. You shouldn’t. Not today, at least,” Elijah said.

  “You have a better idea?” she asked, lifting a hand to her head.

  Thomas smiled. His friend Elijah always had a better idea.

  “Okay. Okay,” Blake said. “Clearly there are things we all need to discuss. But first let’s get Darcy some fluids. And by the looks of it, some pain meds.”

  * * *

  The medication Blake administered started to take the edge off her pain. Darcy was able to stand and gather a few personal belongings. She was so thankful she had stayed behind. Saved once again by her three musketeers of Willow Trace. They had even straightened up her town house a little. And she’d learned what Wissenberg was after and why. She even knew Jesse’s former name now. Finlay. Michael Finlay. And her mother had been Margaret Finlay. That would have been her last name, too. Not Simmons. She wondered what her own first name had been.