Played

by Barbara Freethy

  His brain said yes, but his heart said no. The words didn’t want to come.

  Christina leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. She waited for him to continue. She looked like she had every intention of sitting there for the rest of the night if she had to.

  “Evan waited until I’d forgotten about him,” he said finally. “I’d finished college, graduated, moved on with my life -- Evan wasn’t remotely on my radar screen. But I was on his.” J.T. took a long breath, drawing strength from down deep. If Christina weren’t someone who could help him catch Evan, he wouldn’t be telling her a thing, but maybe if he could get her on his side, she’d be more willing to help. It wasn’t as if talking about it would make it worse. It couldn’t be any worse. What was done was done.

  “My dad was a gambler,” J.T. continued. “He couldn’t pass up a bet on a card game, a sporting event, or the ponies. Evan played on my father’s weakness and hustled him out of his life savings with an investment scheme that promised riches too good to be true. My father was devastated when he realized that he was completely ruined. My mother was so furious she left him and moved to her sister’s house. And I...I said some...” He shook his head and stared down at the table. “Terrible things,” he finished, knowing he could never, ever say those words aloud again. “A week later my father shot himself with a hunting rifle. My mother and I weren’t talking to him, so he was dead two days before anyone found him.”

  “Oh, my God.” Christina gasped, putting a hand to her mouth, horror in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t imagine it was that bad. I wouldn’t have asked you to explain if I’d known.”

  “Evan might as well have pulled the trigger,” he said, still tasting the bitter fury that had been with him since the moment he’d gone to his father’s house to check on him because his mother had finally gotten worried. He blamed himself for what had happened as much as he blamed Evan. He should have seen it coming. He should have done something. Instead of acting out of pride and anger, instead of being judgmental and critical, he should have found a way to understand his father’s pain, his desperation at having lost everything and everyone in his life.

  “You don’t have to say any more,” Christina said, compassion in her voice. “I shouldn’t have forced you to tell me. I don’t usually pry into people’s lives. You just annoyed me and I wanted to get even. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s better you know the kind of man you’re dealing with.” He took a breath. Now that he’d started, he needed to finish it. “The day of the funeral Evan sent me a condolence card to let me know he was behind it all. He also sent flowers to the grave.”

  “That’s sick.”

  “That’s Evan.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “Make no mistake, Christina; Evan Chadwick is a sociopath. On the outside he’s charming, good-looking, friendly. He knows how to get people to trust him. Then he destroys them. Evan got his payback and I’ll get mine. I will put him away for the rest of his life. You can bank on that.”

  “I’m sure you will. I can understand why you’re so determined to catch him. I wish I could help.”

  “That’s why we’re here, so you can help.”

  She sighed. “I stepped right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, and I didn’t spill my guts for nothing. Now it’s your turn. I was reviewing what happened at the party tonight. You spoke to a man when you first entered the room. It was one of your longer conversations. Who was that?”

  She thought for a moment. “Michael Torrance. He’s a collector. I’ve worked with him over the past few years.”

  “So you know him well? You’ve had a relationship with him?”

  “A phone relationship. Tonight was the first night we met in person. I usually do his bidding for him by phone -- as I do for a number of other customers. It’s common in my business.”

  J.T.’s nerves tightened. He didn’t want to jump too fast to the wrong conclusion. Evan could be impersonating anyone. He needed to keep an open mind. But if Christina had never met Michael Torrance in person before tonight, then he should be checked out. “Let’s move on to Professor Keaton.”

  “I don’t know much about him except that he was a professor of art history at UCLA some years back. He told me that he now works at a museum in Vancouver. He didn’t give me the name.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard to track down. What else did he say to you?”

  “He asked me if I was nervous wearing the diamond because of the curse.”

  “Huh?” He hadn’t heard that one before. “The diamond is cursed?”

  Christina shrugged as if she didn’t know how to answer the question. “He’s the only one who seems to think so. I asked Stefano Benedetti about it. He said he’d never heard of a curse. I have to admit that the diamond’s history is a bit fuzzy. Usually for a stone of this size there is a fairly lengthy declaration of ownership attached to it. The Benedettis have said next to nothing about it, except that it’s been in their family for a hundred years and basically has been kept hidden away in a vault.”

  Reading between the lines of her statements, he could see that she was unsettled by something. “What aren’t you telling me? You have an odd expression on your face.”

  “I don’t know more than what I’ve said. But I am curious as to why Professor Keaton thinks there’s a curse and the Benedettis don’t know anything about it.”

  “Sounds like we need to talk to Professor Keaton for several reasons.”

  “Like why he was in my office,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Even in the thick smoke, there wouldn’t have been any reason for him to go upstairs rather than down. But he’s an older man. I can’t believe he was agile enough to set smoke bombs off in an intricate venting system.”

  “True, but he could have been working with someone. Or he could have been Evan in disguise, dressed up like an old, distinguished professor. Evan is thirty-two years old and extremely fit.” Pausing, he said, “Putting that aside for the moment, why was Keaton at the party? How did he get on the guest list?”

  “If he buys for a museum, he would be on the guest list.”

  “That’s not something you compiled?”

  “It was a joint effort,” she replied. “Every department sent out invitations. We’re not just auctioning off jewelry tomorrow, but also the rest of the collection, which includes paintings and other items. Professor Keaton wasn’t on my list, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t on someone else’s list.”

  “If Keaton is from out of town, he’s no doubt staying at a hotel. I’ll track him down. We need to know if he is who he says he is. Because if Keaton is Evan, and he was in your office, then you’re involved.”

  Christina frowned at his analysis. “You’re starting to scare me.”

  “I hope I am. Evan has hurt a lot of people. I don’t want you to get hurt, too.”

  “Does that mean you’re no longer suspicious of me? That you don’t think I’m working with him?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and when he saw the nervous flicker in her eyes, he reminded himself that her actions all evening had been extremely suspicious. He couldn’t forget that. “I think you’re hiding something, Christina,” he said. “And I believe you’re the kind of woman who thinks she can handle everything on her own. But this whole situation is bigger than you realize. You might need help -- my help.”

  “So that’s a no?” she asked, a sharp bite to her tone.

  He could see she didn’t like his answer. “I’m not closing the door on anything or anyone. I’ve known you only a few hours, and so far I’ve seen you climb a tree, break into a house, slam the door to an open safe in my face, and warn someone off. Not exactly typical, ordinary kinds of actions, wouldn’t you agree? As far as I’m concerned, no one is above suspicion, including you.”

  “I guess I know where I stand then.”

  “There’s something else I’m curious about,” he continued.

  “There seems to be no end to
your curiosity.”

  “Why Barclay’s? Why not one of the other bigger auction houses? Why did the Benedettis choose your house for their collection? I’ve seen your security, and it could be better.”

  “You can take that up with Russell Kenner. Security is not my area. As for why us...Barclay’s may be smaller and not as old or as well-known, but we’re very well respected in the industry. We have an office in Europe, and one of our specialists there was able to win the consignment from the Benedettis. There are all kinds of deals in terms of money and percentages. I’m not privy to that particular information. You would have to discuss the details with Alexis or Jeremy Kensington, the owners of Barclay’s.”

  He nodded. It was interesting how she had so much more to say when she wasn’t being asked a personal question. “I’ll keep that in mind. Since you’re not in charge of security or pricing, what exactly do you do?”

  “I’m the department specialist for jewelry, not just diamonds, but any kind of jewelry that we sell. I have a background in art history and I’m a certified gemologist.”

  “In other words, you’re a smart girl,” he mused. Christina was not just smart; she was also beautiful, a dangerous combination.

  “You could say that.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” Where had that question come from?

  Her jaw dropped, her eyes widening with surprise. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  He searched his brain for a good reason. “Just wondering how vulnerable you would be to a seductive con man.”

  She bristled at that. “As you said, I’m a smart girl. I don’t fall for phony lines.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Christina.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her as she sat back in her chair. “Not that it’s your business, but, no, I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment. I’m too busy with my job. What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” he said shortly, regretting having opened up this line of questioning. Fortunately, she seemed as eager to ditch it as he was.

  “So, are we done?” she asked. “It’s been a long night. I’d like to go home.”

  “Not so fast. We never finished our conversation about your father.”

  She let out a sigh. “I’ll tell you this. My father is an incredible man. He raised me on his own from the time I was an infant. My mother left me, but my father didn’t. It was just the two of us. He was my whole world. I thought he was the smartest man alive.”

  J.T. picked up the nuance in her voice and wondered where it came from. “But you don’t think that now?”

  “Of course I do,” she said quickly.

  He wasn’t sure he believed her. There was something going on between her and her father. “Are you still close?”

  “Not like we used to be. My father is retired, and he travels a lot. We don’t see each other much.”

  “Sounds like he has a good life. Did he ever re-marry?”

  “My father said he could never love anyone but my mother. He’s a romantic,” she added with a weary smile.

  “Like his daughter?”

  “No,” she said with a definitive shake of her head. “I had to be the practical one or we never would have survived. My father would get caught up in his research and lose track of time. He had that absentminded professor bit down pretty well. But I took care of him, and he took care of me. We traveled a lot. It worked.” She stopped abruptly, the sound of her cell phone interrupting their conversation. She pulled out her phone and said, “Hello.” She stiffened, her face turning pale. “Yes, all right,” she said, then ended the call.

  Christina tried to act nonchalant as she returned her phone to her purse, but J.T. could see that she was rattled. “Who was that?” he queried.

  “One of my coworkers.”

  “So it was business?”

  “Sure.”

  “Interesting, because your face turned white when you said hello.”

  “I’m just tired.”

  “No, you’re just lying -- again. I wish you could trust me, Christina. If Evan is using you in some way, if he has some hold over you, tell me. I can help.” It occurred to him that Evan might have some hold over her father. From what he knew of Christina so far, her weakness seemed to be her dad, and J.T. knew better than most that when it came to fathers, Evan knew just how to strike.

  For a split second Christina seemed to waver; then she straightened her shoulders and threw back her head. “Everything is fine. If I need your help, I’ll ask. But for now, I’m going home.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, J.T. walked into his hotel room at the downtown Holiday Inn, feeling both tired and wired. He shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee. But caffeine aside, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep; he had too much on his mind. And it wasn’t just Evan’s mocking smile that played through his head; it was Christina’s image, her mysterious green eyes, her soft, lying lips.

  His gut tightened as he remembered the way she’d avoided his questions. She was protecting someone -- was it Evan? Or was it her father, who seemed a more likely possibility? If Evan was blackmailing her, she might feel compelled to go along. She certainly seemed to be protective of her dad. He couldn’t blame her for that.

  He should have been so protective when it came to his own father. If he’d been more attentive, more thoughtful, his family would still be together. His father would be alive. His mother wouldn’t be wasting away with grief. And he...well, he’d probably be living a much different life right now. Everything had changed after Evan, every single last thing. But he couldn’t think about any of that now. He had to focus on the present, not the past. What was done was done.

  Throwing his keys down on the dresser, J.T. took out his laptop computer and sat on the bed. While waiting for the computer to boot up, he flipped on the television. He ran through the channels, pausing at one of the sports talk shows. They were interviewing a guy he’d played with in college. Henry Redeker, a star running back at Cal, had gone on to play for the New York Jets and had just announced his retirement from the game after eleven years.

  Eleven years! J.T. shook his head. It was hard to believe so much time had passed since they’d graduated. Henry had had the life that J.T. was supposed to have had, the one his father had wanted for him with every breath he took.

  J.T. thought back to all those years, all those practices, all those late nights at the park when it had been just him and his dad throwing passes until it was too dark to see.

  In the beginning it was a shared dream; then it had become an obsession -- at least for his father. They’d had so many heated arguments about what he should want for himself, what he should do, how he should act. He’d disappointed his father on so many occasions, never being quite good enough, even when it seemed he was being as good as he could possibly be. But his father had always shaken his head and told him he could do better. At times there had been nothing but hate between them. Unfortunately, it was the other times that brought him the pain now.

  He let out a breath, wishing he could find a way to keep those memories out of his head. He needed to catch Evan, if for no other reason than to lock the door on his past. Once Evan was in jail, he would never, ever have to revisit those days again.

  He turned the channel, relieved to find a late-night comedy show. Stupid jokes about the day’s events were just what he needed now. He was used to cold, impersonal hotel rooms, late and lonely nights on the road. Most of the time he didn’t care. It was part of the job, and he had no one in Los Angeles who was waiting for him to come home or wondering where he was, so his life worked. But for some reason tonight he felt restless and frustrated.

  He hated when things didn’t add up, when he couldn’t figure something or someone out, and Christina fit that bill. She’d told him just enough to tease him into wanting to know more. Her actions over the past eight hours intrigued him. She’d gotten his attention. And he wasn’t just interested; he was attract
ed to her, a complication he did not need.

  He hadn’t wanted to say good night to her, and if he were honest with himself, he’d wanted to do more than question her; he’d wanted to kiss her, to explore the softness of her mouth with his tongue and trace the lush curves of her body with his hands. He ruthlessly reminded himself that she might be beautiful and smart, but she was also a liar. He should have his head examined for even considering going down that road. He was obviously in desperate need of a social life, something else he’d put on hold the last few years.

  He couldn’t let himself get personally involved with Christina. If he did, he’d no doubt play right into Evan’s game. It would be just like Evan to use a woman, someone who could get to him and distract him. The last thing he needed was a distraction.

  Turning his attention to his computer, he pulled up his old pal Nick’s file. He’d compiled a chronological record of events since Evan had taken over Nick’s identity several months earlier, keeping a thorough, detailed account of everything that had transpired. As he reviewed his notes, he strained to see some clue he was missing, to find a pattern or a loophole. Nothing seemed to be related to or connected between what Evan had been doing with Nick and Kayla and what he was doing now. Yet, J.T. felt certain there was some link between that job and this one. Evan’s usual mode of operation was to disappear after a con. He never stayed in the same city. It was too risky, and probably too boring, J.T. suspected. So Evan moved on -- but not this time. This time he had left behind a clue -- deliberately. He’d wanted J.T. to stay close on the trail. So what was he up to now?

  The question ran around and around in J.T.’s brain, making him crazy. What was the connection?

  His gaze fixed on one word that continued to pop up in his notes -- Italian. Evan’s last job had focused on several Italian families, the Riccis, the Carmellos, the Damons, and the Blandinos. Now Evan was interested in an auction featuring a diamond from yet another Italian family -- the Benedettis. The Benedettis lived in Florence, as far as J.T. knew, and it was certainly a leap to think there was any connection among the families, but he hated to discount the possibility. His instincts told him there was something there, but what exactly he couldn’t say.