One Wrong Move, page 7
“Actually,” Christian said, “it would be helpful if we could ask you a few questions.”
“More?” the woman said, little color in her face.
Andi studied her. Had the FBI raked her over the coals? Adam doing so would hardly surprise her.
“Excuse me,” Tad said. “I’m the one who had close to a million stolen. I think the focus should be on me.”
Andi tried not to roll her eyes. Of course he did. “Why don’t we divide and conquer,” Andi said to Christian, “and then we can compare notes.” They were already many hours out from the discovery of the heist, so for the sake of time, it made sense for Christian to talk with Tad’s assistant while she got to the heart of things with Tad.
“Sounds good,” Christian said, looking at the young woman. “Cara, how about we head to your break room?”
Cara nodded, and the two headed down the back corridor, the high-pitched call of monkeys echoing around them as a fresh waft of fog poured forth.
“Don’t be long,” Tad called after them, then turned his attention to Andi. “What did the agents mean about watching my back with you two?”
“It was old business between me and Adam,” she said, praying he’d leave it there, but most people wouldn’t.
“Fine.” Tad waved it off. “Let’s get to what matters—the fact that my second gallery has been robbed.”
“Let’s go over what was taken,” she said.
He exhaled. “Finally. This way . . .” Tad power-walked to a series of six open glass cases—all staggered in height—then he gestured to the dozen hollows carved into the stone surrounding them, all with empty cases nestled inside. “They . . .” He swallowed a sob and tried again. “They took my rarest and most expensive items.”
“Which ones, specifically?” she asked, moving around the cases, a pencil over her ear, a notebook in hand.
“Where to start.” Tad held his balled-up hand to his mouth, pacing from one case to the next. “Let’s start here,” he said, indicating the smallest case in one of the hollows of the wall.
She struggled to focus on Tad’s words, her mind drifting to the young woman with Christian. The news about a sign of a struggle at Alex’s rattled her, and she prayed Cara wasn’t in any danger.
FIFTEEN
CHRISTIAN HELD THE BREAK ROOM DOOR open for Cara. She moved past him into the sterile white galley-style kitchen and took a seat at one of the white plastic chairs.
Not Tad’s style at all. Had his ex-wife, Veronica, decorated this room? The galleries had been half hers at one time, or at least that’s how she always saw it and was never shy to let folks know.
Cara kicked one ballet flat over her opposite knee, her arms wrapped snug against her chest. “I had nothing to do with this, and that’s not going to change if you bully me. Got it?”
Christian held up his hands. “Got it.” He pulled a chair out, spun it around, and straddled it. “Is that what the Feds did?”
“And the local police, and Tad. He was the worst of it.”
“Lovely.” Christian shook his head, and Cara cocked hers.
“Look,” he continued, “I have no intention of bullying you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Okay?”
“Okay, but that’s how they started out too.” She shifted her jaw, and it popped.
Christian winced. Ouch. “Okay, let’s just start at the beginning. You came here this morning?”
“Yeah. I like to come in early. Home ain’t that great, ya know?”
“I get that.” More than she knew.
She tilted her head, leeriness in her eyes. She didn’t trust easily, and he didn’t blame her. He’d never trusted easily either.
“So you came in early . . .”
“Which Tad swore meant I’d been involved in the heist.”
“He said that?”
“Yeah. Threw me under the bus with the cops and the Feds, but I just come in early to get away from it all.” She shrugged a shoulder. “That’s all.”
“Okay.” He kept his tone soft, feeling awful the girl felt safer sitting in an empty gallery in the early morning hours than in her own home. At least she had a home. A set one. Or so he presumed. He shook off the painful tangent and refocused. “So you came in, and what was the first thing you noticed?”
“The alarm didn’t go off.”
“Not at all? No lights, sounds, any of it?”
“Nada,” she said.
“Okay, and about what time was this?”
“Maybe eight.”
“Was there a sign of anyone here?”
“Nah.” She leaned forward, planting her left foot back on the ground beside her right, the toes of her navy ballet flats polished in a shade that didn’t quite match. “But I felt something, and it spooked me. So I took my pepper spray out and took my time working my way through the gallery. No one was here, but Tad’s stuff was gone, so I called him.”
“I’m glad you’re safe.”
Her already arched brows hiked higher, a dramatic edge to them. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just mean I’m glad no one was still here.” He didn’t want to freak the girl out about Alex missing and her home indicating a struggle. His gut clenched at the thought. Alex was a sweet girl. But, without going into too much detail, he’d warn Cara to watch her back before she left.
“Me too,” she finally said with a shiver.
“I’m not going to go through all the stuff I imagine the cops and Feds already did, except . . .”
She narrowed her green eyes. “Except?”
“I’m sure you get a lot of people in and out of here . . .” He led her into the flow of questioning.
“Yeah.” She shrugged.
“Was there anyone who stood out to you as lingering too long, being evasive, keeping eyes averted . . . that sort of thing?”
“I don’t know.” Cara tapped her foot, her face pensive. “There was this one guy.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, he didn’t do nothing wrong, but I remember him because there was just something about him that gave me the creeps. You know how you can get those feelings?”
“Yeah.” His instinct for summing people up was a fine-tuned gift.
“So this guy gave me a weird vibe.”
“Do you remember about how long ago this was?” he asked, leaning against the chair back.
“Not long after Tad redid the statue room,” she said, her stiff shoulders easing a little.
He cocked his head. “The room of artifacts that were stolen?”
She nodded.
Got ’em. At least a little more than they had a second ago. “That just happened a few months ago?” He’d updated the security system after the redo.
“Yeah. Midsummer. I remember because the AC went out for a few days, and it was sweltering.”
So they’d cased the place months ago. “What did this guy look like?” He prayed she remembered. After letting them know about Alex’s apartment, Joel said he’d watched the gala footage along with what heist footage they had before the thieves nixed the video. They were dealing with two men in all-black outfits, zero feature details.
“That’s the thing. I didn’t really see him.”
His shoulders tightened, his hope of a description dwindling. “I don’t understand.”
“He had sunglasses on . . . or those lenses that change with the light.”
“Transition lenses.”
“Right. I assumed that’s what they were—otherwise why would someone keep sunglasses on in a building.”
Unless he was trying to hide his eyes. “What about the rest of him? His hair? Build?”
“He wore a baseball hat. His hair was cut short, so I didn’t really see much of that either. If I had to guess, just based on the small amount visible in the back, I’d say brown.”
“What kind of baseball hat was it?” Sometimes it was the littlest of details that broke a case wide open.
She shrugged her right shoulder. “Just your average sports team one.”
“You don’t happen to remember which sports team?” he asked, praying she did. At least it would be something tangible.
“Yeah. Houston Astros,” she said, crossing her legs and swinging her foot. “My loathsome ex of a boyfriend loved them.”
“That is super helpful,” Christian said.
The hint of a smile curled on her lips. “It is?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “What about his height? His build?”
“He wasn’t as tall as you.” She chuckled. It was awkward but endearing. She was a good kid. A little messed up, but a good kid. He prayed she found her way. Maybe he’d get the chance to talk with her another day about unhappy homes and Jesus.
“So about . . . ?” Christian stood and held out his hand, moving it down a few inches from his head.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, her dark hair with one pink stripe grazing her shoulders.
He lowered his hands a couple more inches.
“Yes. About there,” she said.
“Great. So about six feet.” Exactly how Joel had described one of the thieves from the heist footage.
“What about weight . . . was he skinny, heavy, muscular?”
“Not like you . . .” She smiled. “I’d say he was average. You know, not super skinny, but not heavy. Right in the middle.”
“Gotcha, so average build. This is great.”
“Yeah?” Her smile widened.
“Yeah.”
Ten minutes later, they finished up, and he thanked Cara for her help.
“Can I go now?” she asked, standing.
“Yeah . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Cara . . .”
“Yeah?” She turned before reaching the break room door.
“Do you have any place you can go to get away?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
He didn’t want to tell her about Alex’s place or the fact someone had tried to take them out, but he wanted to keep her safe. The fact she was still alive said she might not be in the thieves’ crosshairs, but he wasn’t going to risk it.
She rested her hands on her hips. “What’s up? Is this about that creepy guy?”
“I’m concerned. We need to get you someplace safe.” And he and Andi had to watch their backs, because he doubted today’s attempt on their lives would be the last.
SIXTEEN
“WHERE’S CARA?” Tad asked as Christian rejoined him and Andi.
“I sent her someplace safe.”
“As in home?” Tad asked. “She’s still on the clock.”
“Not for a few days,” Christian said.
“Excuse me?” Tad flicked his head, shaking the clump of hair from his brow. That man flipped his head more than anyone Christian knew. He was surprised Tad didn’t have whiplash.
“I sent her someplace safe,” he reiterated.
“That’s not your call,” Tad scoffed.
“I made it my call.” He looked at Andi, and she nodded her unspoken agreement. “Look, Tad, Alex’s place showed signs of a struggle.”
Tad blinked, his long lashes flickering like a daddy longlegs struggling in a spider’s web. “What do you mean struggle?”
“Exactly how it sounds,” Christian said. “We don’t know any more . . . but I wasn’t going to chance it by letting Cara go home.”
Tad’s cheeks flushed. “Do—” He cleared his throat. “Do you think I’m in danger? I mean as the owner . . . ?”
Christian paused, then responded, “I don’t believe so.”
“If you think the girls are in danger, then why not me?” Tad asked.
Andi inclined her head.
“Maybe they didn’t come after Cara because the guy assumed she hadn’t noticed him surveilling the gallery or had forgotten him. They might have broken into Alex’s place to get information about the security system, or because they had reason to believe Alex noticed something or saw him someplace shortly before the heist and couldn’t risk her mentioning it.”
Tad blanched. “Wh-what do you think he did with her . . . with Alex?”
“I’m praying nothing.” Though he feared otherwise.
“But . . . ?” Tad swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing on the gulp.
Christian stiffened. Something uneasy anchored inside.
“This isn’t good,” Tad muttered. “I never thought . . .”
Christian’s curious gaze met Andi’s, then they both looked to Tad.
“You never thought what?” Christian asked.
Tad froze in place for a flicker of a moment, then shook himself out of it. “That I could be robbed like this.” He looked to Andi, puffing his chest out like some preening peacock. “Your company must reimburse me for my losses. Jeopardy Falls was bad enough, but this . . .” He glared at Andi. “They got my Aztec eagle whistle, all my jade and gold necklaces. Along with my statuettes, and . . . my masterpiece, my—”
He mimicked a sob, but Christian wasn’t buying it. Tad was putting on theatrics. The question was, why? Did Tad know more than he was admitting? Clearly, he wasn’t bright enough to pull off a heist like this, but he could be dumb enough to hire someone to do it. Someone who went off-leash.
Fear for Alex bit at him. Why couldn’t he shake that gnawing in the pit of his stomach?
“And your masterpiece was?” he asked a pacing Tad.
“My Aztec carved obsidian jar representing the monkey—the god of dance, play, and love.” Tad waved his arm, his bangles clanging over the hoots of the near-incessant monkey calls piping through the speakers.
Of course that would be Tad’s favorite piece.
“It was the only large item they took, but it was my most expensive piece. It alone was worth well over a hundred thousand.”
“They were smart,” Andi said.
“Smart?” Tad huffed. “Now we’re complimenting the thieves?”
“They took highly valuable but small objects that are easy to move and hide. The only large item was the jar, and even that was only . . . I’m guessing maybe eight inches tall,” she said.
Tad’s thin, arched eyebrows lifted. “How do you know that?”
“Based on the time period of this collection and what Aztec jars typically look like, eight inches is a relatively safe call.” She clearly knew her artifacts.
“You’re correct.” Tad exhaled.
“I’m curious,” she said, striding toward him. “How did you come to have so many cultural artifacts?”
Tad straightened, his lashes flickering again. “I bought them from a private collector.”
“All from the same collector?” Andi asked.
“Yes,” Tad said, offering no more.
“That’s quite a private collection for one person to have,” she remarked.
Tad lengthened his neck. “It was a recent acquisition,” he said haughtily.
“How recent?” Andi asked.
“Three months,” Tad and Christian said.
Andi’s questioning gaze flicked to him. “How . . . ?”
“Tad redid the room when he got the new collection,” Christian said.
“A new collection necessitated a new space,” Tad added.
Christian smiled at the concrete timing.
Tad narrowed his eyes. “Why on earth are you smiling?”
He wasn’t telling Tad that Cara recalled the man, but what she said had just been confirmed by Tad. The space had been renovated when the man came in, but it wasn’t to see the renovated space. He was casing the new collection. “It means the thieves had to have cased the place within the last three months, which gives us a window of video footage to watch. It’ll take a while, scrolling through for a single man. . . .” He’d fill Andi in when it was just them. He didn’t trust Tad, and his distrust was growing as the case proceeded.
“I thought there were two men,” Tad said, then rose rushed his cheeks. “I called Joel, and he said the video showed two of them in Jeopardy Falls.”
“He was talking about the heist. You only need one to case the place,” Christian said. “No sense sending two when one will do.”
“Okay. Well, now what?” Tad asked.
“We watch the video footage of this heist.” Christian stretched. He doubted it lasted more than an hour. Whoever the men were, they were good. Good enough to obtain Tad’s fob, break into his Jeopardy Falls safe, and turn the alarm off. And they were brash—hitting a second gallery in the same night. “Then I’ll stake out your Taos gallery.”
“We’ll stake out your gallery,” Andi added.
“Is that really necessary?” Tad asked, swiping his nose.
Christian narrowed his eyes. That little liar. He did know something. “I think we’re going to need to have a chat before we go.”
“About?” A clueless expression filled Tad’s fake-tan face.
Christian linked his arms over his chest. “Your involvement with the heists.”
“My—” Tad squeaked. “My involvement,” he tried again, but only managed one octave lower.
SEVENTEEN
AN HOUR LATER, Christian held the gallery door open for Andi, and they darted through the still-pouring rain to Deckard’s Equinox. Every time she saw the man’s car, she pictured his condemning face. That he and Christian were brothers seemed surreal. From her short interactions with each, there were more differences than just their last names.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown man squirm like Tad did,” she said as Christian climbed into the driver’s side. “I’m sure he knows more than he’s saying.”
“Agreed.” Christian raked a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. She warmed despite being drenched in the cold rain. He had the most handsome profile.
He moved to start the ignition, then froze.
“What’s wrong?” Then she saw it. The envelope on the dash—on the inside of the car. They’d been there again, and this time it was even more intrusive. They were growing bolder.
“Hang on,” Christian said. “I’ve got gloves in the back. We’re going to need to give this to the Feds.”
Which meant more interaction with Adam. Just what she needed, and on this weekend of all weekends. She no longer loved Jeremy. That love had ceased long ago, but the sting of his marrying another on what was to be their wedding day still burnt her heart. “Couldn’t we just give it to Joel?” she asked, knowing that’s not how things worked.
