The frescos covering three walls in the living room were incredible. He had to agree with Ivan, and although he couldn’t remember the French expression, he remembered the translation. He could almost smell the flowers in the garden.
He walked through each room, getting his bearings, then sat at her desk and booted up his laptop again. Using the proprietary software on his computer, he quickly logged into her email and found a travel folder with subfolders for the past five years. A folder for the current year said PARIS TRIP. Inside the folder he found an itinerary for a spring trip to Paris, emails scheduling a meeting with a researcher, and others arranging for a tour guide. There was no information about a summer trip. No plane, train, car rental, or hotel reservations.
He stretched out his legs, and his shins bumped a sharp edge under the desk. He looked underneath to see what it was and found a small safe with a combination lock.
He stood and stretched. Her vehicles were parked in the back. Had she gone with someone? A secret lover? Possible. But he didn’t want to go there.
He went back through the apartment. If he believed she was on a holiday with a secret lover, then he should pack up his gear and get the hell out. He returned to the office but stopped in the doorway and looked back into the living room. Was he imagining a spatial difference, or was there a variation in the width of the room? He returned to the living room. No, he wasn’t imagining it. There was almost a three-foot difference in the width of the living room compared to the kitchen, the bedrooms, and office. What the hell was going on?
He tapped the wall on the side of the room sharing a common wall with the adjoining building, and found it wasn’t drywall or plaster. It was steel. His curiosity was already piqued, now even more so.
He searched every inch of the wall until he found a trigger cleverly hidden in a tree branch painted in the fresco. He pulled it, and a door slid open without a sound. Six lights came on. One above each of five paintings, all of Sophia, and one above an empty easel.
She was an astonishing beauty. Each painting captured her in a different light, even the one of her dressed in a clown’s suit. Whoever the artists were, they were extraordinarily talented.
Using the penlight, he looked for the artists’ names. The first one was signed by da Vinci. The clown’s suit was signed by Picasso. The third by Donatello. The fourth by Rubens. The fifth by Degas.
Pete backed up until he bumped into the sofa. He sat slowly, taking it all in—Da Vinci, Picasso, Donatello, Rubens, Degas. He might not know much about art, but he recognized those names. They had to be forgeries. And if so, why go to so much trouble to hide them?
He stared while the minutes ticked by. After almost two decades on the police force not much shocked him, but this blew him away. He had to document what he found. Using his phone, he photographed the paintings from multiple angles. Satisfied he had all he needed, he closed the door to the secret room, returned to his computer bag, and removed a rare earth magnet.
The answers had to be in the small safe.
The rare earth magnet would open most commercial-grade electronic safes on the market. The manufacturer of Sophia’s safe had a design flaw in the system—a nickel piece from China. He placed the magnet on the door and pulled the handle. It opened immediately.
Inside he found a small handgun and a jewelry box. He had hoped to find a file, a journal, letters, anything that would explain the paintings. Nothing. Out of curiosity, he opened the jewelry box.
And nearly dropped it.
“Holy shit!”
His phone rang, flashing Connor O’Grady’s name and number. “Yo, buddy. What’s up?” Pete asked.
“There’s been an accident,” Connor said, using the clipped, in-control cop voice he rarely used since retiring from the force. “You gotta come home.”
The bottom that was already dropping out of Pete’s world, collapsed completely. “I’m in Italy. What happened?”
“Kevin and JL were flying in Kevin’s Cessna to Virginia. The tires blew out on landing. The plane went through a fence, hit a tree. But thankfully, they’re okay.”
JL was his former partner, and together they had gone through bad shit before, and they almost always walked away—although sometimes beat up and barely breathing. Pete gripped the chair before asking, “If they walked away, what’s the emergency?”
“JL went into labor.”
“She’s only twenty-eight weeks. Do babies survive if they’re born that early?”
“I don’t know. Look, I’ve got to go help Olivia. Betsy just woke up from her nap and she’s cranky. We should be in the air within ninety minutes.”
“Are you renting a plane?”
“The Frasers are flying in from Napa with a stop in Denver to pick us up.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Jeff and Julie are getting him to the hospital to be with JL. They should be there before we leave Denver. As soon as I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m glad Blane was with his grandparents. If he’d been with Kevin and JL—”
“He wasn’t. So don’t think about it. Look, I’ve got to go. Betsy’s crying and giving Olivia a hard time.”
“I’ll be wheels up in an hour. The flight to Richmond will take about nine and a half hours.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then,” Connor said.
“Let me know if you get an update.”
“Sure will, pal.”
Pete dropped into the desk chair. Good God. JL and her unborn baby were in danger, and another brooch had shown up. No way in hell could he tell anyone in the family what he just discovered.
He studied the interior of the box. If the tapestry lining was to be believed, then the box once held four brooches: a sapphire, emerald, diamond, and pearl. Since the first three were already in the MacKlenna Clan’s possession, Sophia was time-traveling with the pearl.
Also in the box was a fragile parchment written in what looked like Gaelic. He photographed the box and the parchment before returning them to the safe.
Prior to leaving the apartment, he took movies and photos of each room, every book lying on tables and in bookcases, all the paintings on the walls, and the contents of the closets. He also dumped out the trashcan next to the desk and photographed the trash. Then he did a fast check of the third floor.
It was empty.
Moving quickly, he returned to the first-floor storage room, where he moved supplies to make room for his laptop on a wide shelf, then logged back into the security system and rearmed it. He had forty-five seconds to leave the building before the alarm was triggered. After replacing what he’d moved, he was out of the building within fifteen seconds, and strolling along Via Toscanella within thirty.
Away from the building, he called his driver and told him to meet him at the far side of the Ponte Vecchio Bridge. His second call went to the pilot flying the jet he leased for this trip. His third call went to Gabe to let him know what was happening and that he couldn’t return to the winery.
Within forty-five minutes of meeting his driver, he was on the plane, wheels up.
He spent the next hour reviewing photos of Sophia’s apartment, the brooch box, and her art work. He should forward the photographs to David, but not until JL and her baby were out of danger. He knew JL well. She’d dealt with a teenage pregnancy, and instead of giving the baby up for adoption, she and her family raised him. And look at Austin now—playing for the Cavaliers.
But if JL lost a baby at twenty-eight weeks, she’d never recover. She was cynical, hard-edged, and difficult at times, but he’d never had a better friend.
If he told her about Sophia, JL would tell him to go find her. Matter of fact, JL told him twice a year to do exactly that—on every anniversary of their elopement and on Sophia’s birthday. But he’d never been brave enough to follow JL’s advice. He didn’t want to discover she was happily married with a passel of kids who looked exactly like her.
When Sophia’s parents had his and Sophia
’s marriage annulled and sent her to Italy to live, he quit college and joined the Marines. If Sophia had truly been in love with him, she would have fought harder to stay together. But her parents had wanted more for her than he could provide.
And now, twenty years later, their paths crossed again.
He studied the photographs of her portraits on his phone. She was more gorgeous today than she’d been at seventeen, and she’d been a knockout then. Was it even possible for her to have taken five trips back in time? He was a betting man, and he’d bet against it. It contradicted everything the family knew about the brooches. And if she managed it, then where was her soul mate?
The next picture he flipped to was the fragile parchment. Some of the words resembled ones he’d seen engraved on the stones, so it should shed light on the origin or purpose of the brooches.
Using the plane’s Wi-Fi, he opened a Gaelic dictionary. David knew the language and could easily transcribe the letter, but Pete wasn’t ready to confide in his boss or any of the O’Gradys—Pops, Connor, Shane, Rick, Jeff…or JL.
Although keeping news of Sophia from JL would be hard as hell. She’d been blessed or cursed with an overactive sixth sense, and she would know intuitively that something was on his mind.
Elliott Fraser was the same way. Pete would be surprised if Elliott didn’t already sense another brooch had been discovered. Maybe it was part of being the Keeper, sensing the energy of activated gemstones.
But the life of Elliott’s second grandson hung in the balance and would override all other emotions and sensations.
Pete turned his attention back to translating the parchment. When he got to the end, he came out of his seat, hitting the table and spilling his whisky. “Goddamn it!”
The flight attendant came to his assistance, and after mopping up the spill he tried to return to the photo of the parchment, but couldn’t. He paced the interior of the midsized airplane, trying to connect the information in the letter with what he knew of the brooches.
His phone rang. It was Elliott. “Crap.” He couldn’t avoid talking to the chairman of the board of MacKlenna Corporation. “Parrino.”
“What’s your ETA?”
No hello, how are you?
“Seven hours. What about you?”
“Three,” Elliott said.
“Do you have any news?” Pete asked.
“JL’s stable and doesn’t need emergency surgery right now, but she’s had an abruption. If the placenta continues to peel away from the uterine wall, the blood flow to the baby will be disturbed and they’ll have to do a C-section.”
“What are the baby’s chances of surviving at twenty-eight weeks?”
“Fair. Not great. Not good. Just fair.”
“Jesus.” Pete used another cloth napkin to soak up more of the whisky he spilled in his lap. “Kevin’s got to be a mess. Have you talked to him?”
“Briefly. JL is in better emotional shape than he is.”
“Connor told me what happened,” Pete said.
“Kevin held it together, and probably saved their lives.”
Pete sat back on the sofa. His eyes burned, thinking of the terror they’d experienced. He could have been returning to the States to attend their funerals. “I hope this doesn’t cause Kevin’s PTSD to flare up again, but I can understand if it does.”
“The lad knows the triggers and has a great therapist. He’ll be okay unless the baby doesn’t make it. Then all bets are off.”
“Charlotte will make sure JL has the best doctors and care. I’m glad they’re in Richmond.”
“If they save my grandson, the hospital will get a new wing. And I’ll be sure they know it, starting as soon as I get there.”
It wouldn’t be the first hospital wing Elliott had endowed. There was a Fraser wing in a hospital in Napa, and a wing at the University of Kentucky Medical Center. “I’m sure the Director of Philanthropy is well aware of who JL is and will be standing at the door with a hand out as soon as you show up.”
Elliott managed a chuckle. Then there was silence.
“Elliott. You still there?”
“Yeah. There’s something else, Pete. I haven’t mentioned this to David or Meredith.”
Here it comes.
“There’s a disturbance in the ether. When I’ve had this sensation before, we discovered a brooch was active. It’s not one of ours.”
“You just confirmed what I wanted to deny,” Pete said. “A woman I knew twenty years ago has the pearl brooch. She’s disappeared, and I don’t know where she’s gone.”
“Can’t do anything right now. She’ll have to wait. Nothing is more important than my grandson.”
7
Richmond, VA—JL
JL sat bolt upright in bed, flung her arms up to cover her head, and screamed. Strong arms wrapped around her as she struggled to catch her breath.
“JL, sweetheart. You’re okay. Open your eyes. We’re in the hospital. Open your eyes, JL.”
Hospital? She slowly dragged her hands down her face, over her breasts to her belly. Why was she still wearing her seatbelt?
“Open your eyes,” Kevin said again.
All she could see through the cracked windshield was the tree coming toward them.
“My baby.” JL’s voice sounded odd, smoky and raw.
“The baby’s fine.”
He was lying. Where was Pops? Her father would tell her the truth, just as he told her years ago when her mother died.
“Where’s Pops?”
Kevin gently pushed her hair off her face and kissed her forehead. “He was here earlier, along with everyone else. When the doctor said you and the baby were out of immediate danger, I asked them to go home. Pops wanted to stay, but I told him he’d be a bigger help if he was at the plantation when Elliott and Meredith arrive with Blane.”
Blane, my sweet baby boy.
She shivered. If he’d been on the plane…
But he was safe, and if what Kevin was telling her now was true, so was their baby. It was all too confusing. She slowly opened her eyes to see the love of her life with a bandage on his cheek and red bruises on the side of his face.
“The belt hurts my belly. Will you unhook it?”
“It has to stay on, babe. Look at the fetal heart monitor. See the top line? That’s Lawrence’s heartbeat, measured in increments of ten, with markings every thirty beats.”
“Stop it! Don’t be so technical. My brain is all jumbled.”
Telltale signs of worry were on full display as he shoved his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. It’s normal. He’s doing okay.”
She glanced around the room, noting pale yellow walls, landscape paintings, big, comfortable-looking chairs, and two oval braided rugs. The blinds hadn’t been closed against the encroaching evening, the lights behind the bed were dimmed, and there was a steady click of heels in the hallway.
She wasn’t sure of the time, but clearly visiting hours weren’t over yet. There was no dinner tray with an uneaten meal sitting on her rolling over-the-bed tray, but there was a plastic pitcher with tiny drops of moisture on the sides, along with a plastic cup, the TV remote, a box of generic tissues, and a damp washcloth. Liquids but no food. Why?
Bad vibes sizzled like a live electrical wire dancing on the ground.
“I’m a hell of a detective, Kev. If everything is okay, why am I in this nice suite? There’s a flat-screen TV, collectibles on glass shelves, refrigerator, birthing ball, rocking chair, and medical supplies hidden in wood-paneled cabinets.”
“Wait a second. What makes you think medical supplies are in those cabinets?”
“Because the trash can next to it needs to be emptied, and there’s another trash can next to the bed. Whatever the nurses got out of the cabinets, they dumped the trash in the nearest trashcan.”
The way Kevin lounged over the bed railing, his body blocked most of the monitor sitting atop a wheeled cart behind him, and she couldn’t see the display. “Scoot over so I can see.” H
e barely moved an inch, so she snapped her fingers at him. She’d been hooked up to the fetal heart monitor before and knew the monitoring would detect changes in the fetal heart rate. When he didn’t move, she became alarmed.
She knew firsthand what it was like to enter a dark alley without backup, knowing a perp was waiting in the shadows. She’d much rather face a son of a bitch with a gun than the truth Kevin was obviously keeping from her. A tiny toe beat a drum roll into the wall of her uterus, as if in sympathy, or maybe protest.
“Okay, tell me now. What’s wrong?” she demanded.
Kevin didn’t say anything, his expression fixed. Then he came right out with it. “You’re in labor.”
A lead weight landed on her chest, tanking the teeny-tiny bit of hope she’d been holding onto. “He can’t be born now. He’s only twenty-eight weeks. He won’t have a chance.”
“In a few days he’ll be twenty-nine weeks. Every day he stays where he is will make him stronger.” Kevin raked his fingers through her hair, twisting it behind her ear. “With a lioness for a mother, he’s well protected.”
“Sharp claws and all. So watch out. Better not keep anything from me, mister.” She gripped his hand, growled against his palm, and nipped at his fingers. “The doctor can give me the drug to stop labor. Or have they done that already?”
He looked out the window into the darkening sky. After a moment he turned back and held her gaze. “You’re a realist, JL. You’d kick me in the nuts if I kept something from you. So here it is… You have a placental abruption. That’s why you’re spotting. It often happens to pregnant women involved in accidents.”
“Abruption? What exactly does that mean?”
“Part of the placenta has peeled away from the uterine wall.”
JL wasn’t the best person to have around in a medical crisis. She didn’t handle them well. Not even kids’ banged-up knees. But Kevin used to be an EMT, so she depended on him to take care of the sick and injured.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t be sweet and caring. She could. But sickness and injuries in other people scared the hell out of her. She knew her irrational fear stemmed from her mother’s illness and death. But knowing the source didn’t make it any easier to handle.
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