Lewis waved his hand. “Nah. He just hates ’em all. Those rich, think-we’re-better-than-you types.”
“Hate is a strong word. I dislike them because they think they can do whatever they want without having to face the consequences. Decades—hell, centuries—have taught them that they’re above the law.”
Logan nodded. He’d seen his share of rich assholes, but Mia hadn’t looked down on him, and he was obviously not in the same social bracket. He stood. “Thanks for your time. I appreciate it.”
“Before we head out, can you tell me what family friends are involved in your case?” Halloran whipped out a small notebook.
“Randall Scott had a painting that was discovered to be a forgery when he went to sell. He swears it was legit when he got it. A painting was stolen from Max Ingram’s house. Within a couple days, it was delivered to the Carlisle Museum, which as it turns out is the rightful owner. Ingram had bogus papers. But then in a weird twist, the one in the museum was a forgery and the original was confiscated in an FBI bust after a tip.”
“Sounds like the damn soap operas my mom used to watch,” Lewis said.
Logan lifted his arms as if to say, “What can I say?”
Halloran scribbled his notes. “I’ll check my files and let you know, but those names sound vaguely familiar.”
“And I’ll let you know if I find any crossover with your case.”
They said goodbye and Logan went back to the other conference room, where he’d left Eden Stokes still researching the art bought and sold over the last five years.
Logan walked the length of the table and looked at the photos she had spread out. It appeared as though she’d made some headway, but he couldn’t make sense of her system.
“Dude. You were totally onto something with the dates.” She jumped up from her chair, forcing him to step back. She shoved the chair away and pointed at the pictures. “Of the twenty purchases we narrowed down that haven’t been sold, fourteen are friends with Ingram and Scott.”
“Not too surprising. They run in the same circles.”
“Yes, well, the fact that they all bought around the same time five years ago got me to thinking that maybe it wasn’t a coincidence. There was some impetus behind the purchases.”
Logan waited, as it seemed like she was running up to a big reveal.
“Guess who else was friends with these fourteen men?”
Logan’s stomach sank. He suddenly had a feeling about where this was headed.
“Dwayne Benson and Cesar Towers. They fled five years ago. I wasn’t anywhere near the case, but the whole city was watching. It was the financial world’s equivalent to watching one of Illinois’s governors—Blagojevich or Ryan—getting hauled in.”
“Okay. So Benson and Towers hit the road and their friends drop a shit-ton of money on art. And?” He had ideas, but he wanted to see if she came to similar conclusions.
“I think they might be funneling money to them.”
That’s where Logan arrived, too. He nodded. “I just came from talking to the agents on that case. Benson called his daughter, Mia, a couple weeks ago looking for money.”
Stokes clapped. “Oh. That’s it then.” A moment later, she narrowed her eyes. “How do the forgeries fit?”
“Maybe they’re keeping the original and trying to sell the forgery. Get their friends money without actually losing anything.”
“Makes sense. We should go back to the ones that have sold and have them authenticated again, you think? Maybe they’ve already gotten away with it.”
Logan circled the table again, studying the photos. Most of these men he’d seen at the functions he’d attended over the past couple of weeks. The tightness in his chest loosened a little with the knowledge that Mia had not done any purchasing. She most likely wasn’t part of the scam. “Unless she’s the one making the sales. Or the forgeries,” he said under his breath.
“What was that?” Stokes asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking.” Halloran’s attitude had definitely burrowed into his head. He tapped Keaton Bishop’s picture. “I overheard that he’s selling soon.” He closed his eyes and replayed the conversation between Mia and Chad. “A Moreau. Hideous from what I understand.”
Stokes scattered pages and snatched a picture from the table. “This is it! If we follow this painting, we might be able to catch them.”
He looked at the photograph of the painting. It was hideous. “Atlas believes Bishop has the original. I’ll call them and see if they can arrange an inspection before he sells.”
“What if it turns out to be a forgery already? Then we tip our hand.”
“And if they know Atlas is looking, they’ll either sit and wait, lulling Atlas back into security, or they’ll dump them faster. Atlas can’t be everywhere at once.” Logan pulled out a chair and sat. “We need an undercover inspection. Someone to look at it and determine if it’s authentic without Bishop knowing.”
“You got the chops for that?”
“Hell, no. I’m faking this job all over the place. But I have an idea.” Randall Scott had called Mia. She probably had the knowledge to be able to assess the painting. He just couldn’t decide if asking for her help would be advantageous or risky.
Chapter Nine
Mia paced the living room in the apartment while Nikki and Audrey studied the video she made of the auction house.
“The warehouse is covered in security. If we wait until it’s in the showroom, it’s already been authenticated, and replacing it there won’t matter. It would just make McNamara’s appear fraudulent.” Which would mean that insurance would pay out and her father would still have access to the money.
“What if I get them in the room? Between the warehouse and showroom when they’re doing their tests?”
“How are you going to get in?” Mia asked.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Audrey ran the footage again. “Maybe Mia has a point. How fast can we create a plan to snag them from their houses?”
“I don’t know when they’re being picked up. It could be mere days.” Mia didn’t like feeling this stressed. She planned and accounted for a myriad of possibilities so she was not caught off guard.
“That’s okay. We got this.” Nikki stood in front of the TV, looking more alert than Mia had ever seen her. “How are things coming with Logan?”
Mia blinked rapidly at the sudden change of topic. “I don’t know. He asked to see me again and did some flirting via gifs last night. He plans to woo me.”
“That sounds promising,” Audrey said.
It sounded horrendous to Mia. She couldn’t afford to have her attention split in so many directions. The museum exhibit, the heists and all that went with those, and now fake dating Logan Freemont. She didn’t see the point. “I think we should just avoid contact with him and go about our business.”
“That’s walking away from free information. If we know where he’s coming from, then we can avoid him or misdirect him. We won’t be taken by surprise,” Nikki said, her eyes never leaving the TV screen. “You did a really good job of capturing all the security here. I’m impressed. We might make a thief out of you yet.”
Mia waved her hand. “I’ve no desire to be a thief.”
Nikki snickered. “A little late for that, babe.”
“I’m sure you know what I mean.” The easy way with which Nikki spoke with her was another chink in Mia’s armor. She was beginning to really like these women. They were becoming a part of her life in ways she never expected. In less than two months, her entire life had changed. What would it look like two months from now?
The heists should be over. With a little luck, her father would be back in the States facing charges. Audrey and Nikki would move on—quite possibly to legitimate employment. Where would she be?
Maybe when this was all over, she could
enjoy time with Logan—or someone like him. She could find what Jared and Audrey had found: someone who understood and accepted them for who they were. The problem was, right now, she wasn’t sure she knew who she was anymore.
She refocused on the video Nikki was studying. “I don’t think they have the hallway monitored, and I didn’t see any security in the authentication rooms. But all of the spaces on either side are covered from every angle. Have you looked at Caleb’s and Keaton’s houses?”
“We don’t have much to go on. Satellite photos as an overview, and the random sketches you offered,” Audrey pointed out. “And like you said, we don’t know when they’re moving. We could devote all of our time to planning on going into their houses, only to miss our opportunity.”
“I bet Logan would know,” Mia said. “He works for Atlas—or at least he’s pretending to—so he would know when something he’s insuring would be moved. Not alerting Atlas about a move could void the insurance.”
Nikki crossed her arms. “Do you think you could get the information from him without tipping him off?”
“Let’s hope so.” Mia gathered her things and went to work. She had a full day of meetings and calls about her exhibit, and tonight was her weekly dinner with her mother. She needed time to plan her date with Logan. She wanted to appear willing but not eager to spend time with him.
Although she was tempted to play his gif game, she opted for a direct approach. She sent a simple text asking about his great-grandfather’s missing painting. If it was real, she would probably be able to find some information, unless of course, it was imaginary or had always been off the grid.
She sat in her office attempting to read emails and staring at her phone, waiting for his response. Which just irritated her more. She no longer waited on men.
About twenty minutes later, he responded. Sorry. I was in a meeting and didn’t want to explain to my boss that I was texting my girlfriend.
I am far from being your girlfriend.
That’s only because I haven’t kicked my wooing into full gear. You won’t be able to resist.
She responded with a laughing-crying emoji.
Laugh it up now. I can be very persuasive. You’ll see.
The promise in his words caused a flutter in her belly. Stop it. This is a job. She couldn’t afford to be persuaded by the likes of Logan Freemont. Focus. Information about the painting?
You were serious? I thought that was a ploy to have a reason to text me. Are you free for dinner tonight?
Mia should say no because of her standing date with her mother. But ferreting out where Logan was in his investigation to see if she and her team were at risk was more important. It didn’t escape her, though, that he didn’t answer her question about the painting. I might be able to shuffle some things. I’ll let you know.
His response? A toddler doing a happy dance.
She called her mother—Beverly Washington didn’t text—to cancel their dinner plans.
“What other plans do you have?” Mama asked.
“A date.”
Her mother’s sharp intake of breath irked her. It wasn’t as if she never dated.
“Is it serious?”
“We just met.” If she told her mother it wasn’t serious, Beverly would question why he was worthy of canceling their dinner. If Mia said it was serious, Beverly would want to meet him. Life as the child of a lawyer taught her to be cautious with her words.
“Do I know him?”
Mia smiled. “No. He’s new to town.”
“Where did you meet?”
“At a party at Max Ingram’s house.”
“Then who does he know?”
Mia wished she could see her mother’s face for this part. “He doesn’t. Not in the way you mean. He’s a business acquaintance. He works for the company that insures Max’s art.” She was met with silence. “He’s very funny and charming.”
“I would like to meet him.”
“If we last more than a few dates, I’ll consider it. I see no need to scare a man off because my shark of a lawyer mother wants to interrogate him.”
“I don’t want to interrogate him. He’s the first man you’ve mentioned in years. I want to meet the man who had the ability to finally turn your head.”
Mia shuffled papers on her desk. Lying to her mother had never come easily, but after her father’s deception, she and her mother agreed to be honest with each other even when it was uncomfortable. “Are you sure you aren’t just making sure the Washington fortune is safe? As an insurance agent, he doesn’t have family money. That’s what makes him different.”
“You know I don’t care about that. That’s what prenups are for.”
Mia did know. Her mother had married her father even though he had nothing. She’d just assumed her mother would expect more from her.
“We are absolutely nowhere near the nuptials phase, so you can put your legalese away. Give me a chance to see if this goes anywhere.”
“Fine, but I expect a full report at dinner next week.”
“Yes, Mama. Have a good night.” She clicked off and texted Logan to ask when and where she should meet him.
* * *
“Ready for a trip?” Logan asked Stokes.
“Where to?”
“We need to talk to Max Ingram again. And Troy Evans, the man who donated the Devereaux to the Carlisle. There’s a thread we’re missing and I need to find it.” He tossed her keys. “You drive. I have to do some research while we’re on the move.”
He didn’t mention that the research involved planning his date with Mia. If he wanted to woo her, it had to be something better than a fancy candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine. He did some looking online and about ten minutes into his search, he decided he needed help. He glanced at Stokes. She was a woman, but he didn’t want anyone at the Bureau to know he was going on a date with Mia Benson. He texted four of his foster sisters who had all grown up at Mama Mae’s with him. It was a move he might regret, but he needed ideas fast.
Suddenly, he was in a rapid-fire text chain.
Sam: Cooking class—you need all the help you can get.
Carmen: Salsa night
Sam: Ohhh... I don’t know if dancing is a good idea. Have we seen him dance?
Logan shook his head. I dance just fine. Carmen taught me to salsa, so if I suck, it’s her fault.
Hana: Scrabble at The Darling. But salsa is cute.
Logan: She would definitely kick my ass at Scrabble. He imagined Mia was one of those girls who memorized every word that might’ve appeared on the SAT.
Jill: Brewery tour.
Logan: I would enjoy that. I don’t think she’s much of a beer drinker.
Jill: They have distillery tours too. Like a pub crawl but with whiskey.
Sam: How many dates in are you? Untitled has an awesome burlesque show. But that’s for sure not first date material.
Logan: We’re definitely not burlesque level yet.
Yet? Did he think this was going to go further? Definitely. As long as she wasn’t involved with the forgeries.
Jill: A simple date at a nice restaurant isn’t enough?
He wasn’t sure how to explain that Mia’s idea of nice and his were far apart. Plus, that was the kind of thing the men in her circle would do. Sure, they might fly her to Paris for that nice dinner, but it was still dinner. I want to do something different and fun. Thanks for all the suggestions. You’ve given me plenty to think about.
Sam: So when do we get to meet her?
Logan: You don’t. He followed it with a gif of Taylor Swift saying that will never ever, ever happen.
Carmen: But we need to vet her like you do to our dates.
Logan sent another Schitt’s Creek gif of David saying, “Absolutely not.”
Then he put his phone away.
&n
bsp; “That was a lot of texting,” Stokes said, still zooming down the highway.
“My sisters.”
“How many do you have?”
He hated that question because it always led to a lengthy discussion of why he had so many. “A lot. I grew up in foster care and my mom took in a lot of kids over the years.”
“And you all keep in touch?”
“Yep. Mom wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Cool.” Then she dropped it.
Logan was really enjoying working with Eden Stokes. She was smart and quick and didn’t mind the grunt work.
“Did you talk to Troy Evans after you got the Devereaux back?” Logan asked.
“I didn’t personally. There’s a statement in the file from him. He had the provenance papers to prove his father had been the rightful owner. Other than that, I don’t think anyone thought it was important.”
“Let me question Ingram. We’ve already been in touch.”
“What do you hope to learn?”
“I want to know where he got the painting. I couldn’t find a purchase record, but he obviously thought he had the real thing. And if it was real, who took it? Was it Troy Evans or are there other players involved?”
“You sure he’ll talk without a lawyer?”
“I’m just from Atlas Insurance, trying to figure out what happened. I think he has more answers than he’s let the cops in on.”
“Why would he talk to you, though?”
“I’ll try to convince him that we can get him money for his troubles. Money talks to these men, right? Unless you have a better plan?”
“Go for it.” She took the off-ramp at Townline Road and wound through the lush, North Shore suburbs.
When he was a kid, he’d only gone as far north as Evanston, and he’d thought that was like entering a new world. But this, this was a different galaxy compared to the bustling concrete city. Trees so big that the boughs from each side of the street nearly touched in the middle of the avenue. Bright green lawns with no patches of brown. Houses that were as big as some of the apartment complexes he’d lived in before moving in with Mae. Even as an adult, he was a little awestruck at the size and beauty of everything.
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