He grinned down at me. “You’re booked and good to go.”
“With you, right?”
“Who else could endure your beauty?” He lowered his body and kissed the end of my nose. “Me, only me.”
I let out the longest sigh of happiness.
It was behind us, all that dreadful Icon stress, all that awkwardness of getting to know each other and trusting in ourselves enough to fall, knowing he’d catch me. All those silent pauses between us were now morphing into moments of a deeper connection. This was the start of something greater than I’d ever dreamed possible for my life.
Falling in love felt so right.
30
Danny gave a wry smile.
I smirked back at him.
Funnily enough, he was the late one to arrive at our private research room at the Witt. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” I said.
“I’m not saying anything.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Personally, I think he’s great. You’re cute together.”
“We are?”
“Shut up.” He laughed.
“I have an idea. Let’s get McDonald’s for lunch.” I winked at him.
“That’s bound to keep my homesickness at bay.”
We laughed and then realized how loud we were being.
Danny pulled back a chair and sat in it. “If they’ve arrested him, do we really need to be here?”
“We’re going to help with providing discovery,” I told him. “The more evidence we have to bring against him, the more paintings we’ll retrieve. He may try to stash a few.”
Danny gave an enthusiastic nod.
We worked diligently all day and were ecstatic to finally confirm the common thread between each of the paintings. The work had been exhausting, but worth it.
By 4:00 p.m. we were back at Huntly Pierre to present what we’d learned.
Within the conference room Abby, Shane and Brandon listened to Danny, and all of them were riveted with what we’d discovered.
Danny gestured for me to continue.
I flipped open my file and began, “We’ve collated images of each painting stolen in the Interpol case.” I continued, methodically walking everyone through where and how each of the provenances had been broken.
Danny’s voice cracked when he came to the Ramirez family, again sharing with the team the suspicious circumstances surrounding the loss of their Titian to the Burells.
“Were there any more deaths involved in our other cases?” asked Shane.
“We believe the Ramirez family were the only ones who suffered like this,” I said. “Still, one family dying in a fire is one too many.”
“Icon’s not hurt anyone, right?” asked Shane. “No reports of any violence from him?”
“None so far,” said Abby.
Danny pointed to our file. “Every single painting we researched has a break in its provenance.”
“Each one of them once stolen,” I added. “And stolen again. That’s our pattern.”
“Well, we have a lot more to work with,” said Abby. “Let’s share our findings with the Met and Interpol.”
Brandon sat forward. “Talking of provenance, Zara, what are your thoughts on the theft at Christie’s?”
The blood drained from my face. “St. Joan?”
Had they found my painting on him?
“We’re your friends,” said Abby. “We’re here for you. Like we are for each one of us.”
“I was mortified,” I admitted. “And everything else that goes along with discovering there may be a painting out there you were told shouldn’t exist.” I took a sip of water and added, “When I was ten my home almost burned down. My dad was an art collector. We lost most of our paintings. We managed to save a few. St. Joan was one of the ‘destroyed’ paintings.”
“Sounds like your dad sold it.” Danny gave a comforting smile. “You were a kid. How could you keep track of something like that?”
“I remember my dad grieving for that particular painting,” I said.
“You were probably in shock,” Abby reassured me. “Memories have a funny way of being skewed after a traumatic event.”
That dreadful memory of my father sifting through the remains of St. Joan’s ashes through his fingers was too dreadful to bear.
“I bet Ouless painted two,” said Shane. “There’s your answer. Walter Ouless painted more than one. Maybe he practiced on the first and didn’t like it?”
Guilt dripped off me with the unfairness of innocence. “Christie’s never got a chance to authenticate it. It was stolen the night after it arrived.”
“Who dropped it off at Christie’s?” asked Danny. “Bet they have answers.”
“They want to remain anonymous,” I told them. “Right now, Christie’s won’t reveal their client’s name.”
“We’ll find out more,” said Abby. “I’m sorry it’s gotten caught up in the Icon case.”
The memory of seeing St. Joan made me feel vulnerable and I inhaled a steadying breath.
Shane glanced at his ringing iPhone. “It’s New Scotland Yard.” He rose and headed out of the conference room to take the call.
Brandon held up a flash drive. “I got this for you.”
I tried to swallow past this dryness. “What is it?”
“Security footage from Christie’s. The night your St. Joan went missing. I went over there this morning and they gave me a copy. Told them I worked for Adley.”
Mixed feelings rose over whether tampering with this potential hornet’s nest was wise and, after all, Tobias had told me to let it go.
“Have you looked at it?” I asked.
“Not yet.” Brandon glanced at the others. “We were going to see what you thought first.”
“Have the police seen it?” I said.
“Yes,” said Abby. “The footage is a little confusing apparently.”
I sat forward. “In what way?”
“Let’s look at it,” she said. “Try to understand their confusion.”
“At least I’m not on there.” I leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. “An inspector from New Scotland Yard paid me a visit at home. I told her I didn’t know anything. Sorry I didn’t tell you. It was never the right time.”
I was hoping it would go away.
Shane hurried back into the room. “We have a problem on the Icon case.”
Danny and I swapped a wary glance.
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“The man caught—” Shane gestured for us to remain calm. “He’s a thief. Just not ours.”
Air rushed from my lungs. “A copycat?”
Shane gave a nod. “He tasered a guard before they got to him. He was released from Brixton prison a week ago after serving a three-year term.”
“And Icon never harms anyone,” I muttered, remembering that feather serving as a symbol of that promise.
“Onward then.” Abby looked devastated as she gestured to my file. “May I look?”
“Of course.” I slid it over to her.
“I’m going to grab a sandwich.” Danny rose to his feet sharply and stormed out.
“Want to watch this with me?” Brandon waved the flash drive in the air. “I’ll get it set up. How about ten minutes?”
“Sure. Did Christie’s staff say they saw who took the painting?” I pointed to the flash drive.
He frowned. “There’s one suspicious individual but he has an alibi.”
“I’ll grab a sandwich and join you.” I pushed to my feet and said, “Thank you. I appreciate this.”
“Zara,” Elena called to me, gesturing from the door.
“Yes?”
“Adley wants to se
e you.”
I cringed inwardly as I assumed this was about St. Joan. I’d be hard pushed to explain why it had taken me so long to report this to him.
I made my way to his office. The door was ajar.
Adley rose to greet me. “Zara, heard things are going great on your investigation? Though it’s a shame about our copycat?”
I stepped in farther. “Thank you, sir, yes. I’ll email my report. Let me know if you have any questions.”
“Quite the revelation.”
“I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to tell you about—” My gaze froze on the square-jawed, redheaded man sitting in Adley’s armchair.
Pulling back on my surprise, I faked I’d never seen him before. Nor had the displeasure of attending an orgy he’d been at. It wasn’t just the man’s build, it was his cold gray eyes that I remembered, an icy stare peering through the mask he’d worn that night.
“Hi,” I managed.
He rose out of his chair. “I’ve been hearing good things about you, Zara.”
My gaze shot to Adley, and I wondered if he knew now that I’d visited the palace. He didn’t seem annoyed, shocked or any other manner of facial expressions I’d expect from discovering his employee had attended a bangfest.
Adley gestured to him. “This is—”
“Francis.” He frowned my way. “Have we met?”
“Don’t believe so.” I shook his firm hand and recalled all too starkly standing in front of the fireplace at the back of that ballroom. “I have one of those faces.”
Francis had ogled me from that small distance between us. That masked woman by his side. The one I’d asked for the direction to the loo.
You were wearing a mask, I reassured myself.
He tilted his head. “I’m glad I caught you.”
“I’m sorry?”
“This was all last-minute,” he added. “I was visiting the Reform Club and thought I’d pop in and see Adley.”
I looked apologetic. “If you’ll excuse me. Have to make a quick call. I’ll be right back. Ten seconds?” I glanced at Adley for permission.
With a nod he gave it.
I strolled out of there and then I rushed round the corner and pulled my phone out. And dialed Tobias.
“Wilder.” His voice sounded husky. “Zara? You caught me between meetings. Lucky me. Stay in Oxford with me tonight. I’ll send a car.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll drive. It’ll help me decompress.”
“What happened?”
“Tobias,” I whispered. “You know that palace we went to? The one in Oxfordshire?”
“How’s your day going?”
“Not too good. Look, there’s a man here from the party. You know the orgy thing.”
“Where?”
“Adley’s office. I can’t tell if he recognizes me.”
The silence lingered on the other end. “Are you sure?”
I swallowed hard. “He has red hair. Same eyes. I’m sure of it. His name’s Francis.”
“Lord Francis Blandford?”
I swallowed hard. “It was his party?”
“It’s fine, Zara. We did nothing wrong. Take a deep breath and get on with your day.”
“But he wants to talk with me.”
“About?”
Adley appeared and gestured for me. “I have to go,” I said. “I’ll call you.”
“Zara,” Tobias’s voice sounded stern. “Don’t go back in.”
I hung up and walked toward Adley.
My phone buzzed in my pocket but I ignored it.
“Use my office,” Adley said. “Take as long as you like.”
“You’re not staying?”
“Francis wants to talk with you privately.”
31
Don’t go back in.
Tobias’s words hung like a noose around my neck waiting to tighten.
Francis sat on the edge of Adley’s desk with his arms folded across his chest. He gave a thin smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. “I’ve read wonderful things about your art collection.”
He lowered his gaze. “Which you’ve seen.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’d never forget your eyes, Zara.”
My gaze flittered toward the door.
“It’s refreshing to meet others who share our taste in the finer delights of life.”
I studied his face, trying to gauge if he knew I’d also seen his secret Goya. The thought of Adley finding out what had happened that night made me sick to my stomach.
“I looked for you later,” he said. “That Neanderthal you were with hid you away.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “How can I help you?”
He scratched his nose thoughtfully. “You’d be surprised how many people enjoy our lifestyle.”
“You have a painting to be appraised?”
“We’re concerned with all these thefts. We need our home reevaluated. An expert to secure our paintings. This man’s very good. This Icon. Our system may be outdated.”
“We’ll have our team visit.”
“I want you there.”
“I’m an appraiser, Lord Blandford. Security—”
“Francis, please.”
“We have a fine team here who specialize in security consulting.” My fingernails trailed over the nape of my neck. “We’ll keep your paintings safe, sir.”
He stepped forward. “Sir? I like that.”
“I didn’t stay. You know, for the... Wasn’t my thing. To be honest.”
“Zara.” He stepped closer. “You prefer one-on-one?” His fingers trailed along my throat. I pulled away.
He scowled. “Shall I inform Mr. Huntly about your attendance at my party?”
“And expose your own?”
His left eye twitched. “See you Friday. With your team. Be prepared for some private time.”
“I don’t respond to threats, Francis.”
“Excuse me?”
I stepped back, putting more distance between us and trying to hide the fact my heart was racing. “Glad we cleared that up. Huntly Pierre will be delighted to provide a security consultation. I’ll have Shane Hannah, one of our lead investigators, contact you with the details.”
A knock at the door.
Abby leaned round the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but Brandon’s found something interesting on that case you’re both working on.” She gave me a knowing look.
“Thank you.” I turned back to Francis. “You’ll see our team on Friday, Lord Blandford. Have a safe trip back to Oxfordshire.”
He gave a thin smile. “Friday it is.”
I hurried out of Adley’s office. “Thank you, Abby. How did you know I needed saving?”
“I didn’t.” She glanced behind her. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“He’s a creepy bastard.”
“No more meetings with him alone.”
“That’s my intention.”
“Well, are you going to fill me in on the deets?”
My head snapped to look at her. “What?”
“Tobias Wilder?” She grinned. “Are you guys just shagging or is there more going on there?”
I gave her an incredulous look. “Mind your own bloody business.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you’re shagging Tobias Wilder!”
“Does everyone know?”
“He kissed you in front of Danny. Then you headed off into the sunset together.”
“How embarrassing.”
“Are you kidding me, he’s a bloody catch.”
“Yes, he’s pretty special.”
“Imagine how cute your
babies are going to look.”
“Shut up.”
We walked into Brandon’s office and he gestured for me to take a seat. I was too wound up after my run-in with Francis to take it and talking about Tobias had muddled my brain.
I paced a little to refocus.
He used a napkin to wipe crumbs off his hands and pushed his half-eaten sandwich aside.
“What have you found?” I pulled my phone out and saw five missed calls from Tobias. He probably needed reassuring my meeting with Lord Blandford went smoothly.
I texted him, Will call soon. All okay.
Tobias: Call me. Now.
“This is what we managed to get from Christie’s.” Brandon pointed to his Apple’s flat screen. “Watch this. This is what has the police baffled.”
I placed my phone on the desk and concentrated on the film. I recognized the room at Christie’s, the same one I’d visited and recognized the three paintings on display in the private showroom. My St. Joan was flanked by the Renoir to the left and to the right, Jan Gossaert’s Portrait of a Merchant.
The wall camera swept left and then right painfully slowly and taking in the full view of the showroom. The time clock stamped on the lower right screen was 03.01.
A chubby security guard strolled in, looked around and strolled out again. “Watch this—” Brandon froze the frame.
St. Joan vanished.
“But the guard’s right there!” I said. “He’s in the room.”
“And no one else is in there,” said Brandon. “You just saw what we saw. The room is empty. Officer Fields strolls in. He strolls out. Touches nothing. Then, bam! Painting behind him is gone.”
An uneasiness rose in my chest.
“This is Icon’s MO.” Abby threw me a wary glance.
Elena appeared at the door. “Zara, you have a call.”
I forced a friendly smile her way. “Tell Tobias I’ll call him in a minute.”
She grinned. “How did you know it was him?”
“Wild guess,” I said.
“You might want to answer that.” Abby stared at my cell phone.
I relented and picked it up and strolled over to the corner near the window. If I crooked my neck I’d see the Wharf.
“Are you alone?” Tobias said.
“No.”
“Are you okay?”
The Chase Page 30