Raeleen read for herself that the woman had written about the Nazi in a journal. His name was Armen Brauer.
“The painter of The Portrait of Sarah did a few other works that were lost during the war. His pieces are rare. The few that have been recovered have gone for millions.”
Reading along with her, Raeleen discovered the painting Deet had was the most valuable of them all because of its history.
“What happened to Armen Brauer?”
“He disappeared.”
Raeleen straightened and looked over at Travis. “How did Deet end up with a painting like that? He isn’t even into art.”
“He doesn’t have to be if it was passed down to him.”
“He is German….”
* * *
The value of the painting didn’t surprise Travis, but it did kick-start his foreboding. Harry was a good friend and Meena was the love of Harry’s life. He couldn’t let anything happen to them.
“We should go now,” Travis said to Raeleen, who was still immersed in the sensationalism surrounding the painting’s history. “The longer we’re here, the greater the danger of dragging Harry and Meena into this.”
“Give me a little credit,” Harry said. “I’m old, but I can still shoot a gun.”
“Raeleen.”
“Just a minute, Travis.” She resumed her conversation with Meena about Sarah. Where she lived. How she’d met a married man. The murder...
“It’s so unusual that a woman in that time committed murder,” Raeleen said.
“And for history to repeat itself in Sarah’s son,” Meena added, drawing Harry back into it.
“Except his wife had an affair with a Nazi. She was Jewish.”
Travis took in the scene of the three of them ensconced in scandalous history, then walked out into the living room. He rolled the painting back up, not caring about preservation. Now that they knew what it was, this would be the last time he touched it. His main priority was getting away from here. Harry was like family to him.
“Did Sarah’s son have any children?” he heard Raeleen ask. She was still in the office.
A good question. If they could find Sarah’s descendants, they were the rightful owners of the painting.
“It doesn’t say on this site,” Meena answered.
“Maybe try another search.” That came from Harry.
So, that’s what happened to a man who retired from special forces. He lost his edge. Had he forgotten that TES could find what they were surfing the internet for? It was comical.
“This site might be good,” Meena said.
“What did you say that guy’s name was?” Harry asked. “The guy who sent you and Travis the painting?”
“Deet. Dietrich Artz.”
“Yeah. Him. We need to do a background on him.”
Relieved that Harry hadn’t completely gone soft, Travis went to the door of the office to see all three gathered close to the computer, completely oblivious to him.
“Raeleen.”
She glanced at him and then said, “Do a search on Cyrus Dickenson.”
“This is a good genealogy site,” Meena commented.
“Odie can do this a lot faster, you know.”
“There’s a lot of them.” Raeleen sounded disappointed.
Taking out his cell, Travis called Odie.
She answered right away. “What have you got?”
“See what you can find on Dietrich Artz’s ancestry. Did he have any Nazis in his bloodline?”
“Why ever do you ask?”
He told her about finding the painting, including what they’d learned about Sarah and her son.
“No wonder it’s so popular. But why now?”
“No one discovered its whereabouts until now.”
Their original assumptions were still pretty much on track. Deet had tried to sell the painting, and his wife had tried to stop him.
“Something must have gone wrong in the sale,” Odie said.
“Why did Deet mail the painting to Raeleen? Did he change his mind, or is something else at play here?” Travis would go with something else at play.
“That’s a good question.” The one they needed answered. “Roth isn’t going to be happy to hear about this.”
“Tell him I’m with Raeleen 24-7 now. And see if you can track down Sarah’s son. If he has any living descendants, I’m sure they’d like to know about the painting.”
“Finally, something fun to look up. Okay, I’ll get back to you...oh...”
Just as he’d suspected, she’d already found something.
“Nothing comes up on Deet’s family.”
“You mean he has no history?”
“No. He has solid history. His family has lived on that island since they migrated there from France. He isn’t German. Well, not completely. His grandmother married a German, but only after moving to Anguilla. Checking her family...” A few seconds passed. The trio before the computer still struggled with the genealogy site.
“No Nazis in her family,” Odie said.
How did she do that so fast? She must have access to dozens of databases and had gotten so much practice over the years that she not only knew where to look, but speed was her trademark. She probably had six screens in front of her, each one doing a different task for her. And her brain was quick enough to keep up.
“What about Deet’s wife?” he asked.
“Checking now.” He heard her fingers busily working the keyboard. “Wait a minute. Let me check a few other sources.” She typed away. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Another solid background, or did she mean the opposite this time?
“I don’t see anything on her grandfather.”
“No history at all?”
“Vivian’s maiden name was Rey, and according to these records, her grandfather died before arriving in Anguilla.”
“That’s sort of impossible.” Odie was onto something, and he followed her train of thought. “Do we have a case of stolen identity?”
“His name wasn’t Rey?”
“No, it was Armen Brauer. That’s who had the affair with the Jewish owner of the painting.” The trio in front of the computer had uncovered that.
“Then that’s our Nazi collaborator.”
That provided a twist to their original speculations, but didn’t change the outcome much. The painting didn’t belong to Deet. It was Vivian’s.
“I’ll look for the rightful owner of the painting. I’ll have to go visit a friend of mine. Will you take a good picture of the painting and send it to me?”
“Yes. Coming right now.”
With the three at the computer still unaware of him, he returned to the coffee table and spread the painting out once again. Taking a picture with his phone, he sent it to Odie. Then he rolled the painting up again, tucked it away into the tube and returned to the office.
“There has to be something on Deet’s ancestry somewhere,” Raeleen said.
Travis went to stand behind her. “It’s not Deet’s ancestry you should be looking for. It’s his wife’s.”
At last he had their attention. Harry straightened and so did Raeleen, her back bumping him with a little squeal as she pivoted to face him.
Meena stopped surfing and twisted to look up at him.
“Her grandfather was a German who stole someone’s identity before moving to Anguilla. He was the Nazi collaborator who had an affair with Sarah’s son’s wife. Armen Brauer. He must have defected during the war, after she rejected him and he killed her.”
Meena and Raeleen gaped at him.
But Harry just grinned. “I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have.” Travis grinned back.
“How
do you know all that?” Raeleen asked. “You were just...” She pointed toward the door. “And we haven’t been...” She pointed to the computer.
Travis couldn’t let this priceless moment go. She was flabbergasted that he’d learned what he had so quickly. “You should really give TES more credit, Raeleen. Your father, too. He’s a brilliant man. Brave. Patriotic. And resourceful. You could learn a thing or two from him.”
“Uh,” she breathed with derisive disgust. “Stop it.”
“We need to go.”
Meena sagged with disappointment. “Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?”
“You might as well stay the night,” Harry added. “An antiques shop makes great cover.” When Travis hesitated, he gave him a hard pat on the back. “Stay.”
“The painting is going to attract trouble, Harry.”
“And I’ve never dealt with that before,” Harry retorted. “Are you calling me old?”
Travis breathed a laugh. “No.” Maybe one night would be okay. “We’ll stay.” Harry wasn’t going to let him refuse, anyway.
“We only have the pullout in the living room, but it’s comfortable.” Meena glanced between each of them. “And cozy.”
“Travis is sleeping on the floor.”
Like hell he was.
Chapter 9
Dinner was a delight and now the conversation was finally dying. Meena was a wonderful cook and an entertaining host, just like her husband. Raeleen finished her glass of wine, content to spend time with a couple she would love to keep as friends. Unfortunately, they were Travis’s friends.
“I’ll get the bed ready for you.” Meena got up from the kitchen table where they’d all sat for hours.
“I’ll help you.” Raeleen stood up and followed her to a hall closet, where Meena pulled out several blankets and extra pillows.
Carrying them into the living room, Raeleen saw that Travis and Harry were involved in a low-voiced conversation.
“They’re probably talking about past missions.” Meena’s pride rang through.
“Has it been that long since they’ve seen each other?”
“Travis makes his way here whenever he can. It’s been about three years since his last visit. He usually tries to come here at least once a year. But with him being shot and all, that slowed him down. It was a long recovery.” She spread a sheet over the cushy mattress on the opened pullout couch.
“And now he’s back at it.” Marching straight into the line of fire, dominating adversaries. Dominating being the key word.
“You sound disapproving.”
She spread the top sheet down, not feeling like getting into that. Her father dominated, demanded and disappeared into his work. She knew all too well what that was like and how those close to him suffered. Is that what Travis would bring her if she continued to fall for him?
“Travis was in the military when his sister was killed, did you know that?” Meena asked in her silence. “He was training for Delta.”
Raeleen helped her put two blankets down onto the mattress, reserving some for Travis on the floor. “How nice.”
Meena ignored her sarcasm. “He flew to Afghanistan after he found out her convoy had been attacked by terrorists. At the time, no one knew what had happened to his sister. When he got there, it didn’t take long to discover a suicide bomber killed her and the other soldiers. Travis searched for the terrorists, but there were so many, and being American, it wasn’t long before they turned on him. If it wasn’t for my Harry, he wouldn’t have been around to be shot in Monrovia. He still punishes himself for not being there to save her. Short of fighting the Taliban all by himself, there was nothing he could do. He can’t seem to accept that. You saw how difficult it is for him to talk about.”
Yes, she had. She struggled with sympathy that was too intimately tied to him. “How could he have predicted that she’d be killed in a car bombing?”
“He couldn’t, but he would have been in Afghanistan if he hadn’t decided to join Delta. He wasn’t in a position to save his sister. He wouldn’t have been, anyway, but that helplessness tortures him. I think that’s why he finally joined TES. There, he can go after as many tyrants as possible, and he can save the innocent from their murderous ways. And he has. Travis has a reputation for saving people who are kidnapped or captured in unstable countries. That’s why he works for your father. He’s one of the best.”
“They all are. My father wouldn’t want Cullen to recruit any other kind.” Again her bitterness showed, and Meena took note of it.
“It’s good what your father and his men do.”
“Yes, it is.”
Meena stopped making the bed with her. “Why so angry?”
“I grew up without a father. It’s good what they do, but it’s not good for their families.”
Raeleen arranged the blankets for Travis on the floor, dropping a pillow there.
“My Harry was there for me. We had four kids together. He never missed a birthday, and I have never felt unloved.”
Not liking the ray of hope that gave her, Raeleen sat on the newly made bed and Meena sat next to her.
“Your father is one man. Don’t you think it’s unfair to judge them all based on that?”
She looked over at Travis, who still leaned an elbow on the table and spoke quietly with Harry. “He has the same drive.”
“Yes.”
“And he’s closed off in some ways. Like how he can never talk about his sister. And besides, he’s already admitted that he’s looking for a woman who won’t make him stop working for TES. That tells me he’ll put TES first.”
“He has to put TES first when he’s on a mission. He’d be killed otherwise, but Travis isn’t the kind of man who’d come home to his wife and neglect her. He’s a lot like my Harry that way.”
Unable to refute what she said, Raeleen continued to resist the warm enticement threatening her resolve. “Neither was my father. He loves my mother. Always has.”
“Do you really believe he wasn’t a good father?”
She lowered her head, not sure her father deserved such harsh judgment or if her aversion to anything remotely resembling love with Travis had brought it on. There had been a few times when her father had been home for special occasions. And he never missed Christmas, either.
“You love your father very much, I see.”
“Of course I do.”
“Any child would want her daddy to be around all the time. He wasn’t around enough for you, because you love him so much. Don’t waste any more time hanging on to that. Cherish the time you do get with him. That’s how it was with my Harry. Now we’re together all the time, and sometimes I wish he was still active in the military.” She laughed. “For maybe two seconds.”
Raeleen laughed with her. “You’re lucky.”
“Yes, and you will be, too.”
Before Raeleen could argue, Meena rose and headed down the hall. “Come on, Harry, let these two get some sleep before that trouble Travis mentioned gets here.”
Harry gave Travis what must be his trademark hard pat on his back and stood from the table. Telling Raeleen good-night on the way, he and his wife closed their bedroom door.
Raeleen met Travis’s gaze across the quiet room. He hadn’t gotten up from the table. She broke the tense look first and went to get ready for bed.
Her guard was down because of her talk with Meena. Meena had made her realize that she truly did love her father. She loved him like she had when she was a child. He was her daddy. The most important man in her life. She didn’t get to spend enough time with him. He didn’t have the time to give. That’s what hurt. And that hurt had turned to anger a long time ago.
Emerging from the bathroom in her night T-shirt, Raeleen saw Travis lying on top of the covers on the sofa bed.
She stopped beside it. He’d taken his boots off, and his feet hung over the edge of the mattress. His hands were folded over his flat stomach, and his chest stretched his white T-shirt. He’d taken off the shirt he’d had on over it.
His eyes opened.
“You’re supposed to sleep on the floor.”
“Says who?”
Her. But he didn’t take orders from anyone. He gave them.
Yanking the covers back, she pretended not to see the grin fighting for a chance to shine on his face and climbed onto the bed. Curling with her back to him, she pulled the covers over her. It would be a long time before she was able to sleep.
* * *
The interstate stretched before her tired eyes. She could no longer see her dad. They were supposed to meet somewhere. She couldn’t remember where. If she lost him, she wouldn’t be able to find him. But she was so tired. If she could just close her eyes for a few minutes that would help.
Seeing an exit ahead, she took it and began looking for a place to pull over. The road here was too narrow. Turning left onto another road that went beneath the highway, she saw a patch of dirt on the side of the road. She drove there, parked and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she had no idea how much time had passed, and now she stood in a subway. Looking down, she noticed she didn’t have her keys or anything. Where was her car?
She had to find her father.
To her right, a brick passageway led to some stairs. She could see daylight. If she went up there, maybe she could see where her father had gone. Stepping up them, she saw another train, this one open to the air.
She climbed aboard and looked all around for her father. She didn’t understand how she’d gotten here. One minute she was sleeping in her car, and the next she was here.
The train began to move.
She couldn’t get off. She didn’t know where she was. Her father wouldn’t be able to find her. She wouldn’t be able to find him.
“Where am I?” she asked a man standing next to her.
“You’re on a train going to the Square. We’re all going shopping.” He smiled and everyone around her was happy and looking forward to this excursion.
Seducing the Colonel's Daughter: Seducing the Colonel's DaughterThe Secret Soldier Page 13