by Randi Ocean
“What’s new?” I asked, trying to be matter-of-fact.
“Well….” He paused and turned to me with a very concerned expression on his face. “The information we entered into the case file last night turned up some new information on Clay Orwell. Seems he has a few aliases. Looks like he’s in the Mob.”
I was staring at head shots and mug shots of Clay Orwell, aka Clay Wells, aka The Messenger. I realized I had seen him before. It was Peter. He had always showed up as the messenger delivering art from Clay Orwell.
“I do know him!” I cried. “He’s the bicycle messenger who delivers Clay’s art to Clint. I just figured we were on his route, so it made sense it was always the same guy. He told me his name was Peter. Oh, my God, Adam, that’s Clay?!” I was almost hyperventilating.
“Calm down. He doesn’t know that you know who he is,” Adam said in a soothing voice, but it didn’t help much.
“He just delivered a painting to the studio Thursday. I can’t believe that’s him!” I was pacing again.
“Did you see it? The painting, I mean,” Adam asked.
“Yes…I mean no, not really. I’ve seen the wrapped paintings as they come in and go out. They’re wrapped meticulously, I guess so they can tell if the packages have been tampered with at any point.”
“Okay, where does he put the paintings when they come in?”
“Clint or Sam usually takes them from me, but I’ve never paid attention to where they put them. On Friday I asked Clint if he wanted me to help him shoot the one that arrived Thursday, and he said no. He thought it was a waste of my time, since we weren’t getting paid to shoot them.” My brain was processing, trying to remember the sequence of events after Clay delivered the painting. I had been so distracted thinking about Adam, nothing came to mind. My pacing quickened, and I was breathing hard. “Adam, how can this be happening under my nose?”
Adam tried to calm me down. “You had no reason to question any of it. Unless something really out of the ordinary happened, why would you suspect Clint was doing anything but conducting business as usual.”
I rolled my eyes and kept pacing. “It’s my fault. I’m an idiot!”
“I think you could use some fresh air. Why don’t we make that trip over to the gallery?”
We made our way across town and came up on the side street next to the building that housed the gallery. I noticed a driveway - actually, an alley - with a sign that said, “Service entrance for Jackson Gallery.”
“That’s most likely where we’ll have to load in on Thursday,” I told Adam. We walked a little way down the alley and tried to find the loading dock. There was just one huge roll-up door that covered the whole width of the space. “It looks like a fortress,” I observed. “I’ll bet their security is crazy.”
Adam agreed. “I think you’re right. They probably have cameras watching us right now, so maybe we’d better get out of here.”
We were walking back up the block to go into the gallery when Adam got a text. He had a hint of a smile on his face as he asked, “Are you up for a bit of a diversion? My designer is at the loft and wanted to know if I was available to come by. Would you go with me?”
“Of course! I’d love to see it, and it’d be nice to have something else to think about besides all this insanity.”
We hopped in a cab and were downtown in less than ten minutes. Adam used a key in the elevator to unlock the button that went to the sixth floor. When the door opened, we were in the foyer of the loft. Adam led me around the corner into the main space. It was an enormous, wide-open room with sweeping views of the city. The designer turned around from the kitchen island where she had been inspecting the plans.
“Emily, you remember Sophia?” Adam asked, eyeing me, knowing full well I remembered Sophia.
“Of course. How are you today?” I said. My face flushed from embarrassment as I remembered how I had run out of Alfredo’s Friday night. I held out my hand to shake hers.
“Hi, Emily. Adam,” she said, shaking my hand and kissing Adam on both cheeks, “I’m glad you were free to come over and check out the progress. I think it’s coming along nicely.”
“Looking good,” Adam said, walking around the island into the new kitchen. “I’m looking forward to doing some serious cooking in here.” The space was very masculine, with ebony cabinets and honed black granite countertops. Adam looked very comfortable there.
“You were so right about the changes you made in the cabinet layout. This space is much more functional than it would have been with the original plan,” Sophia said, complimenting Adam.
Wow, I was learning quickly that there were many interesting facets to his complex personality. He even had a design sense. I observed him closely as he and Sophia walked around the loft and examined a few more details that had been completed since the last time Adam was there. It was going to be a gorgeous place when it was finished. I wondered how many other facets of Adam’s personality I had not seen yet. It will be so cool getting to know everything about him. Two more weeks, and he could move in. I had a feeling that would be when I would get to know the real Adam Comstock. Sophia wrapped up her conversation with him and said her good-byes.
“Thanks again for making the time this afternoon, Adam. Emily, nice to see you again. You two enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”
“Thanks, Sophia. We’ll talk soon,” Adam said as Sophia left. When the elevator door closed, he turned to me with his head down. “I’m sorry for not telling you Sophia is my designer, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come if I told you she was here.”
“That was a pretty good assumption,” I said with a little annoyance.
“I hope you’re not mad. I really wanted you to see the place.”
“I’m not mad. I’m sorry I made such crazy assumptions on Friday when I ran out on you.”
Adam walked over and stretched both arms on either side of me against the counter and kissed me. “Thanks for being here.” He took my hand and walked out onto the terrace. It was a pretty bare space, with the exception of a table with four chairs and a couple of chaise lounges. “This is the reason I bought this place. Once the inside is done, I am going to have it landscaped. I’m sure I’ll live out here as long as the weather is nice.”
“It’s fabulous! I miss having a place to spend time outside. I would live out here, too.” The afternoon was crisp but sunny. We sat in the chaise lounges, holding hands, and talked. Now that I knew what Adam really did for a living, I wanted to know more. “How did you get into private investigation? Can you take courses for something like that?”
“I actually started out as a crime scene investigator for a federal agency. You know, the whole CSI thing like you see on those crime shows. Then a couple of years ago a friend of mine who worked for a high-end jeweler asked me if I would help them track down some stolen property for a commission based on the value of what I recovered. It sounded interesting and a lot less gruesome than my daily grind. Turns out I was pretty good at it, so it wasn’t long before I had made a name for myself tracking down stolen goods. The FBI called me in on this case a few weeks ago. Their trail had gone cold, and more paintings were turning up as forgeries. I was the one who made the connection with Clint, the photographs, and the forgeries.”
“That’s fascinating! How did you figure out I worked for Clint?”
“We tracked down the payroll records from his quarterly tax payment, so I had your name, address, and Social Security number. I also found an old picture of you from your Virginia driver’s license, so I knew what you looked like. I asked to be assigned to you to find out how you were involved. Another guy has been investigating Sam, and someone else has been following Clint and Myra. When I asked you all of those questions about your work the other night, I just wanted to be sure I had my facts straight about everyone who worked there.”
I was stunned. My expression must have told the story about how I felt, because Adam got up from his chair and sat down on mine, and took my hands in his.
“Emily, I am totally blown away by you. I told you before that I never intended to get involved with you when I started this assignment, but you’ve captured my heart. I want to be with you and protect you.” He leaned in and kissed me tenderly.
His words were very loving and sincere. “Thank you. I know you mean that.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, helping me out of the chaise.
We locked up the loft and started walking down the block, hand in hand. We came upon a sidewalk café that had some heat lamps going. It was the perfect spot to sit outside and have a bite to eat. After we ordered, I started thinking about Monday morning again. Thankfully, I had finished up formatting all of the photos of the oils from last week. That didn’t leave too much for me to think about except prepping for the shoot on Thursday, which wouldn’t take too much brainpower. It would be hard to focus on anything very involved. “What should I do if I see any sign of something significant that I hadn’t noticed before?”
“Just make a mental note of it. Don’t do anything that would call attention to the fact that you know something about the forgeries. If they find out you know anything about it, you might not be safe. We’re going to try to close in on them before the shoot Thursday so we can catch them with a forgery before they can make the next swap.”
“Ugh! I hate this!”
“I know, sweetheart. It will be over soon.”
We ate dinner and went back to my apartment. It felt like a closet compared to Adam’s loft. “I’m sorry for the cramped quarters. Your loft is so…lofty,” I said, trying to laugh about it.
“It’s cozy here. All of your touches make it very comfortable.” He walked over to a photo that had been taken at my college graduation. “Is this your family?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s my sister, and obviously those are my parents. A lot of people think I look exactly like my mother.”
“Good-looking group. You all look very happy.”
“My graduation day from college was a very happy day. We always seem to bicker when we’re together in most situations, but we actually all got along that day. Everyone was on their best behavior.”
“Do you see them often?”
“No, it’s been a while. My sister is overseas studying this year, and my parents have been traveling a lot for my dad’s work. We’ve been talking about trying to get everyone together at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving. We’ll see if we can swing it. Do you have any brothers or sisters?
“I have a half-sister who is ten years older than me. She’s married and has two kids. We don’t have a lot in common and don’t stay in touch. My real father died of cancer when I was twelve. My mother remarried, but she and my stepfather were killed during a break-in at our family’s house while I was away at school. That’s why I got into crime scene investigation. Their case was never solved. I thought maybe I could figure it out, but so far I haven’t turned up anything new.”
“Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what it’s like not to have family. Even though we don’t see very much of each other, we’re pretty close.”
“I work a lot,” he said with a smile. He kissed my forehead and stared into my eyes. “And now you’re in my life. I’m very happy.” He kissed me sweetly. Smiling back, I started yawning. Exhausted from all the events of the weekend and a general lack of sleep, we decided to turn in early. Monday was going to be a big day.
We crawled into bed in my tiny bedroom and entwined, skin to skin. Adam brushed the hair away from my face and kissed me gently. Feeling his smooth, warm skin against me sent shivers up my spine. My nipples tightened, pushing back against his tight pecs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and combed my fingers through his silky hair as our tongues danced. His hands glided up and down my torso, pausing to fondle my nipples. My tiny bedroom felt like a safe cocoon where we could shut out the world and revel in each other. Adam took his time seducing me with every touch, every kiss. He was in complete control, his magical hands exciting every erogenous zone to the peak of pleasure. I reached for his hard shaft, stroking softly and rhythmically in sync with his motions. He leaned over and pulled a condom from his jeans, tore it open behind me, and slowly sheathed himself. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, our emotions intensifying with each passing moment, and every touch.
“Oh, Emily, you’re so beautiful,” he said as he rolled over on top of me and slowly pushed inside me. The intensity of our emotions resonated through every inch of my body, feeling him against me, inside me with such passion.
“Oh, Adam,” I moaned as he came hard. He pursed my lips to meet his in a deep, sensual kiss.
“You’re an extraordinary woman, Emily,” he said softly, staring into my eyes, inches from my face.
“You certainly make me feel that way,” I whispered.
We held each other tightly and drifted off to sleep.
In my dreams, I was running from something…unidentifiable. I ran and ran, with no particular destination. Little did I know that I would be running far away.
Chapter 8
Monday morning I arrived at the studio at eight-thirty, thinking I was going to be a little early. Clint and Sam were packing up the last of the gear for the shoot. Apparently after I left early Friday, they moved it up from Thursday to Monday.
“You could have let me know over the weekend. I would have been here to help,” I said to Clint, frustrated that I hadn’t gotten this update.
“I left you a message Friday night. I guess you were too preoccupied with whatever it was that had you spinning last week,” he quipped. I looked down at my phone, and sure enough, there it was. The little voicemail symbol. I had indeed been preoccupied with the seductive Adam Comstock and hadn’t noticed Clint’s message. I didn’t take time to listen to it at that moment, but immediately jumped into prep mode. This was going to throw everything off.
Sam glared at me. I knew he was particularly angry that I had neglected the message about work because of Adam. “Did you have a good weekend?” he asked with disdain. I knew better than to respond.
We all rode together in the van over to the gallery. I didn’t have a moment to myself to call or text Adam to fill him in on the change in plans. I knew he was talking with the FBI that morning to arrange for the surveillance on Thursday. There wasn’t going to be any way to make that happen today. I was on my own.
When we arrived at the gallery, the fortress door was open and there were two places to load in. One was a tractor trailer-height loading dock, and one was a ramp for vehicles like ours. We backed up the ramp and unloaded. Sam took the van to park it elsewhere so the ramp could be available to other deliveries. My mind was racing. I was trying to keep my eyes and ears open for anything that looked suspicious. I had to concentrate so it wasn’t obvious that I was distracted and not paying attention to my job. We were escorted to the storage room where we would set up to shoot. Clint and I rolled as many cases and carts of gear as we could manage. Sam would follow with the rest when he got back from parking. About three-quarters of the room was filled with racks and shelves that stored paintings and sculpture. The front quarter of the room was an open space where we would set up to shoot.
I pulled one of the folding tables off the cart and began to set up the computers. Clint dug into the camera and lighting cases and began his setup. Sam arrived with the last of the gear and began assisting Clint. I was surveying all the cases in my mind, wondering which one held the forgery. I knew it had to be there.
As Clint and Sam were setting up the backdrop, I saw them talking quietly and looking in my direction. Sam was pointing at me and toward another pile of equipment. He grabbed a second folding table and came toward me. “Can I swap tables with you?” he asked.
“What’s the difference?”
“This one is a little more stable for the computers. I haven’t gotten around to fixing that one properly yet.” I hadn’t noticed a problem, but thought Sam should know,
since he was the keeper of the gear. I moved everything off the table and let him make the exchange. He took the one I had been using and set it up on the other side of the room near the backdrop. He staged cases all around it and unpacked a few items on top.
I kept working on my prep, formatting the drives. Since the shoot was originally supposed to be Thursday, I was way behind. I wanted desperately to break away and call Adam, but I was afraid to leave the room. The swap might happen while I was gone, and I’d miss any opportunity to help the investigation further. Sam and Clint lit the backdrop and finished the camera setup as I went about my business, listening intently and watching when I could. The paintings we were to shoot were lined up in the rack closest to where they had set up the backdrop. There were many fewer than our usual workload. I inventoried them and began creating the I.D. cards. I had no idea which painting Clay (or whoever he was) had forged, so I looked at each one a little more closely than I might have normally to see if I could pick out the one that was chosen to disappear. I came across one titled Serenity. I knew this had to be the one. It had been written up in numerous publications as a contemporary masterpiece, and was extremely valuable.
I went back to my station and continued my usual routine, but kept an eye on everything the guys were doing. So far everything seemed normal. We started shooting, and it was all moving along in the typical fashion. Serenity was finally up. Click, click, click, click, click. The motor drive on the camera snapped away. Change focal length, change exposure. Click, click, click, click, click. Clint walked over to my work station as he usually did after each painting was shot to examine the pictures before moving on. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Sam was crouched down, working by the table he had swapped out with mine. I tried to look in that direction without calling attention to the fact that I’d noticed he was up to something.
Clint started rattling off commands to me: “Zoom in on that shot so I can see the focus. Can you see how this one looks with the color correction on it to see if we are even close?”