by Sylvie Kurtz
“Who discovered the opal was missing?”
“Mrs. Blackstone. Just after she’d seen the last guest out. The insurance policy covering the jewel is high, and we’re looking into that angle. Financial trouble with the family, host museum, etc.”
He doubted Mrs. Blackstone had planned to abduct her own jewelry, or that the museum wanted to make a quick buck from the insurance company. No, his gut led him straight to Willy. “I’ll need to see a list of the guests to this affair.”
“They’ve already been checked out.”
“I’m not doubting your ability, Detective,” Lucas said, keeping his voice calm. Soothing inter-agency ruffled feathers grated raw. And he was already frustrated to begin with. He ground his coffee cup in tight circles. “I’m trying to see if any bits of your puzzle fit in with mine.”
“Right,” Monroe said with an ill-disguised sneer.
“Fax me the list at…” He put a hand over the phone’s speaker. “Juliana, what’s your fax number?”
She gave it to him, and he passed it on to the detective. Five minutes later, the machine whirred to life and spewed out a list with nearly a hundred names on it. Lucas fed the names into an information database and requested a report of criminal histories and one of name/address cross reference. Doing so created a risk Regs would find out, but Lucas had nothing to lose. His career was already half-way down the toilet. This wasn’t going to matter one way or another.
Except for Regs’ threat toward Juliana, he reminded himself. He refilled his mug with coffee. Juliana wouldn’t be caught in the cross-fire. He would hide her, if necessary, until everything blew over. She and Briana would remain safe.
He intended to keep his promise.
He cast a glance at Juliana. She worked with industry and complete concentration. Several sketched views of her asymmetrical design for a ring that would have an alexandrite at its heart, hung on the wall above her workbench next to the ones she’d made of the Nadyenka Sapphire.
She looked like a cross between a mad scientist and a marble goddess as she measured, stirred, and poured a plaster mold. Safety goggles on a fine-boned face. What a sight! He smiled. A smudge of investment powder dirtied her cheek. Keeping his fingers from reaching out and whisking the white film away took a great deal more restraint than he’d thought.
Getting her to leave her job wouldn’t be easy. In the past few weeks, it had become obvious she loved what she did. She tended to avoid the retail side of her business, but made her work in the back look like play—a play in which she could totally immerse herself. Just as she’d done….
No, he didn’t want his thoughts to wander in that direction. He was having trouble enough keeping his thoughts focused as it was. Did she lose track of time the way he did while he was in the heat of a case? In her smile, he saw how her work energized her. Saw, too, how she used it as a distraction while she missed her daughter.
He’d find a way. There were more important things than jobs.
His mind drifted to Briana and her wonderful, warped sense of humor, to how easy her to laugh was. Her “then what happened?” when he made up stories for her fed something deep in him. He didn’t want to lose that, or the new intimacy he’d found with Juliana over the backgammon board.
Not even to save his own career.
While he waited for his reports, he scanned various police bulletins, available through the field office network. Half an hour later, he sat up straight.
The Lundberg, Massachusetts police held a man caught with dental picks and the homeowner’s schedule in his pockets. They’d charged Bert Link with trespass and possession of burglar tools. What had caught Lucas’s attention was that the homeowner worked as a gemologist.
He put a call through to arresting agency, and introduced himself. Chaos seemed to rule in the background.
“You’re calling about half an hour too late,” the officer informed him. “He was released on bail just before eleven.”
“Who bailed him out?”
“Let me see.” Keys clicked over the buzz of background voices. “A Mrs. Bert Link. She paid cash.”
That was no help. “What did she look like?”
“Listen, agent Vassilovich,” Kent Turner’s voice dripped with exasperation, “I’d love to help you, but we’ve had a busy morning here. There was an altercation at the high school and we’re sifting through half the senior class, teachers, parents. Faces have been pretty much a blur.”
From the top of his desk, Lucas picked out a photo of Cindy Marchand he’d copied from her employment file. “Skinny, short light brown hair, light brown eyes, small birthmark on her left temple, five four.”
“Could’ve been. I can’t say for sure. I didn’t handle the release paperwork. He’s scheduled for a hearing in two weeks.”
He’d never show up. “Bert Link was booked.”
“Of course.”
“Then you have fingerprints.” Anticipation shot adrenaline through him. That would be as close to the Phantom as they’d gotten. “And mugshots.”
“Of course.”
“DNA sample?”
“There was no grounds to gather any.”
“I’ll need copies.” The pictures might not mean anything, but the prints would.
“I’ll make a note.”
“Not tomorrow, today. Now.”
“We’re a tad busy at the moment.”
“The high school kids’ll still be there tomorrow. This guy won’t. Either you fax those prints and shots to me now,” he said in a voice that rang with authority. “Or I’ll have my boss call your chief.”
The officer swore, then relented.
“Ten minutes, officer Turner, then I make that call.”
“You’ll get them in five.”
And he did.
* * *
Cindy still shook as she downed the last of the diet Pepsi from her glass. This was it. She couldn’t take anymore. He’d gone over the limit this time. Asking her to pose as his wife to bail him out of jail! Never had she been so scared as when she’d walked into that police station, pretending she was someone else to post Will’s bail. She’d been sure they could see through her and would toss her in a cell right along with him.
She reached for the liter bottle in the middle of the table and poured another glass. The ice had barely had a chance to melt from the last glass and she was glad she wouldn’t have to get up to replenish it. Her knees had the substance of Jell-O.
Will plucked the mustache off his lip, peeled away the smooth tanned skin off his face to reveal a pallid, pasty complexion, and unremarkable features. Her stomach heaved. She swallowed down the acid, holding her shocked stomach with a fist.
How could he have fooled her so easily? She’d never noticed the skin he wore wasn’t his own, that his eyes weren’t really blue, but a cold metal gray, hadn’t known that the false bottom of his make-up case held envelopes filled with hundred dollar bills. Hadn’t even known the case was stuffed with cosmetics.
“You played your part well.” Will’s lips twitched into something she supposed was meant as a smile. “I don’t think they suspected a thing. Of course, they were a tad busy.”
His laughter made her shiver.
Never again, she wanted to say, but couldn’t find her voice.
“I have to go,” he said.
“Again?” She clutched her glass tighter, and couldn’t understand why the thought frightened her so much. “Where?”
“Out.”
“No, Will. I can’t do this again.”
“There’s no danger of being caught this time,” he said, slathering his face with cold cream. “I want you to go to the grocery store and get us some supplies. I’ll leave a list.”
“Sure.” She poked a finger at an ice cube, watched it bounce in the dark, bubbly liquid. Agreeing was easier.
“When you get back, you’ll need to pack.”
She swallowed hard. “We’re moving?”
“I’m afraid we have to. I
’m going to send our Special Agent on a wild goose chase. It’s best we’re not in the area.”
“I’m tired, Will.” Tired, and frightened, and broken. How could she have fallen for a man with no heart?
Because he’d charmed her, fed her dreams. And she’d been desperate enough to believe.
He’d used her.
She wanted to cry, but gulped down more soda instead. The last thing she needed was more ridicule from Will.
“You’ll get to rest soon. I promise.” But his smile didn’t bring reassurance.
Was this what she had to look forward to for the rest of her natural life? In her wildest imaginings, she’d never pictured being on the run. Oh, maybe for a short while, but not forever, certainly not on the wrong side of the law, and definitely not with a man like Will.
Crunching on an ice cube, she watched as Will applied new layers of skin, becoming yet another stranger. She shivered once more.
“I’ll be back by five,” he said as he stowed away the small case. He switched shirts, folding the dirty one, then putting it neatly in a compartment of his duffel bag. “Be sure you’re ready to go.”
“Of course, Will.”
She waited until she was certain he wouldn’t be back. Downing the rest of the soda in her glass, she got up, then checked the windows and headed for the small case.
She rubbed her damp hands on the leg of her jeans, undid the clasp, and lifted the cover. Carefully, she removed the bottles and jars until she found the false bottom. Among the envelopes, she found the card she remembered seeing earlier, and put everything back in its place.
Still crouched on the floor, she lifted the index card to her drumming heart and closed her eyes. “I’m a librarian, not a criminal. I can’t live like this.”
She lifted the phone off the hook. Her finger hovered over the buttons. Her heart beat so wildly, she couldn’t hear the dial tone. He would find out. Somehow he would. She put the phone back on the hook.
“Not here.” She grabbed her purse and her cardigan and headed for the door. Pausing by Bijou’s basket, looking at those sad, brown eyes, Cindy sighed. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
Scrunched at the phone booth at a nearby convenience store, Cindy placed her call.
“Lucas Vassilovich.” The voice came on strong and sure.
This was right. She wasn’t betraying Will—he’d already done that with his lies. He’d used her, and worse than that, she’d let him. She had to get her life back. If anyone could help her, this FBI agent could.
She cleared her throat, tried to find her voice. The butterflies in her stomach performed Olympic gymnastic routines. “Uh. Agent…Mr….” She growled her frustration. “This is Cindy Marchand. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m listening.”
“No, not now. I-I…” She looked around, feeling as if Will had sensed her intent and was watching her.
“Is Willy there with you?”
She was shaking again. “No. I…”
“Where are you I’ll come get you.”
“No. I mean, I’m outside a convenience store in Bridgeport. I don’t have much time. I’ll meet you.”
“I can send someone over.”
“No,” she said, regaining a bit of courage. She was going to do this her way.
“What part of town are you in?”
“I need to take the dog to the vet. She’s been sick, and Will’s being stupid about it.” He cared for that damned dog of his more than he’d ever cared for her, yet he wouldn’t do the one thing that could help the animal. That should have given her a clue. Tears sprang to her eyes. She twisted away, hiding, even though there was no one to see.
“Which vet are you going to?”
“I’ll meet you. Tonight at eight. At the Aubery library. Go to the back door. I’ll wait for you there.”
“I don’t like this, Cindy.”
“I swear I didn’t know who he was, what he was doing.” God, she was making a fool out of herself, blubbering like an idiot. “He took that opal at the museum last week. He made me carry it in my purse.”
“It’s okay, Cindy. We have ways to protect you. You’re not in trouble. He is.”
The first bit of calm warbled through her. She sniffed. “I’m taking the dog to the vet, then I’m leaving, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“I wish you’d let me come pick you up. I’d feel better.”
“No, I have to do this. She’s really sick.”
“Let’s meet in a more public place. I don’t like the idea of you isolating yourself.”
“I’ll be fine.” And suddenly, she knew she would. She’d always felt awkward in the real world. But the library was different. There she’d felt safe, alive—useful. All those kids looking up at her, eager to learn. Sharing the magic of words and stories, opening new worlds to them. She’d be just fine. She was going home.
“Cindy, listen—”
“I’ll see you tonight. The library. Be there.” She hung up.
In a few hours, she’d have her life back again.
And once she did, she wouldn’t allow another man to seduce it away from her.
Ever.
* * *
On hearing Cindy’s name, Juliana had dragged her stool next to Lucas’s desk. The vacuum bell whirred away, drawing out any air bubble from the cast of her wax model. She removed her goggles and laid them on the desk.
“I don’t like this,” Lucas said, twirling his coffee cup. She’d learned it was a sign of tension.
“What did Cindy say?”
“She wants to talk.” The cup screeched a protest on the desk’s surface.
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes. No.” He got up, stuffed his hands in his pants pocket and stared out through the retail shop. “She wants to meet at the library tonight. I don’t like it.”
“We can go there ahead of time to make sure she’ll be safe.”
He whirled around to face her. “We aren’t doing anything. I don’t want you involved in this.”
“It’s a bit too late, don’t you think?” She crossed one leg over the opposite knee. Her foot swung in time to her irritation “She’s bound to be scared. She might feel more comfortable talking to a woman.”
“I’m trained to handle this, Juliana.”
She huffed. “And I’m a woman. I’ll understand another woman. We have Will’s betrayal in common.”
“Betrayal?”
“She loved the man. She wouldn’t willingly give him up unless he’d done something to betray that trust.”
He bent over his laptop and tapped in commands.
“What are you doing?” Juliana asked, craning her neck.
“Flagging her card. Willy won’t have allowed her to use it, but she’s taking his dog to the vet behind his back. If she uses it for anything, I’ll know, and can figure out where she is.”
“Was. Where she was. Wouldn’t it be easier to just wait for her?”
He shook his head. With a couple more key strokes, the screen changed to an electronic yellow pages. He requested a list of Bridgeport veterinarians. “No, Willy’s losing control. He’s getting disorganized, making mistakes. We have his prints. It’s only a matter of time now. He’ll try to get control back any way he can. If he suspects Cindy has any intentions of abandoning him….”
Juliana’s foot stopped swinging. Her palm lay flat on the desk top. “You think he’d hurt Cindy.”
From the printer, he snatched a list of addresses and phone numbers. “Don’t know, but I certainly don’t want to take a chance. She knows him in a way no one else does. We need her.”
“Which is why you need me there with you. Willy probably has her scared half to death that the police will put her in jail and throw away the key .”
Lucas scanned down the list and frowned. “Even if she admitted helping Willy after the fact, because of her clean record, she’d probably just get probation. If she gets in with us, we’ll take care of her. That’
s the way it works. It’s not the small fish we’re after. It’s the big shark.”
“But she doesn’t know that.” The man could be so dense when he wanted. He didn’t understand the first thing about women, how their minds worked, how their fears motivated them.
“Are you doubting my charm?” he asked with a half smile.
“You just don’t get it.”
He glanced up at her with a clueless expression. “What don’t I get, Jewel?”
“You and Willy play your games and it’s people like Cindy and me who get hurt. You could charm her from here to Sunday and it won’t make a difference. She needs someone to trust. Someone who understands what she’s been through. You’re not it.”
“Listen just because you’ve—”
“You’ve got mail,” Lucas’s computer interrupted.
Lucas clicked his mail open, then whistled his disbelief.
“What?” Juliana asked, dragging her stool closer.
He frowned deeply, his mind clicking away. “According to the fingerprint index, the Phantom is Wilbert Linley Putnam II.”
She whistled. “As in the governor of New Hampshire?”
“The one and only.”
“That can’t be. Why would the governor do something so, so—risky? There has to be a mistake.”
Lucas tapped more keys. “It’s lines and swirls in black and white, Juliana. It either matches or it doesn’t. This does.”
“Still. The governor of New Hampshire?” Her mind reeled.
Wilbert Linley Putnam II. A man, who on the surface, seemed to have everything. Name. Wealth. Prestige. It didn’t make any sense. Why would a man with every advantage choose a life of crime as a hobby? Surely, with all the public scrutiny of his every move he would have been caught by now. She toyed with the strap of her goggles. “So why is he spending his private time stealing jewels?”
“To fill a perceived need, according to all the psychologists.”
Lost in thought, Lucas paced about her small work area. She could almost hear his brain sorting through options, and it made her uneasy. “Lucas?”
“It doesn’t fit.”
“What doesn’t fit?”
“The dates. They’re all wrong. He’s leading me there for some reason. But I don’t have a choice. I have to check this out.” He shut down his computer and readied it for travel.