Glass Houses

by Stella Cameron

  “Our friend Ryan will be calling the shots,” Chris pointed out. “He could have her take a bus or rent a car to meet up with him.”

  “If we don’t get real lucky, he’s going to get everything he wants,” Aiden said. “Unless we find something in Olivia’s photos, and she doesn’t think we will.”

  “I didn’t see anything,” Chris said.

  Sonnie got up and started clearing the table.

  Chris placed the now-sleeping Anna in Aiden’s arms and helped his wife. “Let’s see them again, Olivia, please. I’ll get a magnifying glass.”

  “I have a good one in my bag,” she told him, trying not to stare at Aiden and the little girl.

  Olivia got up and collected her bag. She arranged the photographs on the table in the order they were taken and found her magnifying glass. Boswell roused himself and plodded to flop down again at Olivia’s feet.

  “We need more light.” Chris left the room and returned with a halogen desk lamp.

  One by one the photographs were studied by each of the four of them. And one by one, they failed to find anything of note.

  “These are for one of those home magazines?” Sonnie said, using a second magnifying glass Chris had produced.

  Olivia said, “Yes. I don’t like most of the artwork either, but you learn to put your own taste aside and make the best of the material you’re given.”

  “I think we’re going to lose this one,” Aiden said. “But that could turn out to be good news for us, I guess. If Ryan and Fats figure they’re in the clear and do a bunk, we’re in the clear. If, if, if. If only we knew why they’re going to such lengths.”

  “To protect themselves, of course,” Sonnie said.

  Aiden decided not to pursue the point. “Even when it’s all over, there’ll still be some tough explanations to give.”

  “Like why you snooped around Ryan’s computer, you mean?” Chris asked mildly.

  “I’m glad he did,” Olivia said at once. “That’s selfish, but who knows what would have happened to me?”

  “Be nice, Chris,” Sonnie said.

  Aiden looked much too smug but said, “The other photos are more or less duplicates of these?” as if his mind was only on business.

  “Not exactly. Penny wanted some different angles. We could make another set if you think it would be worth it.”

  “Make another set?” Chris narrowed his eyes at her.

  Olivia looked from face to face, from stunned face to stunned face. “Yes, make another set. From the negatives. Why not?”

  The atmosphere had changed. Aiden turned Anna toward his shoulder and covered the back of her head while he leaned toward Olivia. “The negatives aren’t with the photos in your grip?” he asked.

  “I’ve got all the negatives with me.”

  Chris leaped to his feet. “There could be something in the other batch. If we could compare the two we might notice a difference.”

  “Chris,” Sonnie said, “there’s no need to shout.”

  “Oh, no,” Olivia said, burying her face. “I just assumed all you were worried about was those photos falling into the wrong hands.”

  “We were worried about that,” Aiden said. “You weren’t to know, but it would have helped if we’d known we had the negatives and could make copies.” Anna stirred on his shoulder, rubbed her nose, but fell deeply asleep again.

  Chris bowed his head and said, “I’ll go get the other set of prints made.”

  Olivia was past being tired. Punchy came closer to the way she felt. Chris had taken less than an hour to return with very good quality prints made from the negatives she hadn’t thought to mention. Each time she thought about it, she screwed up her face and willed the memory from her mind. Not that there had been any revelations since Chris got back.

  “We need to try something different,” Aiden said. “Break our concentration, then refocus. Let’s just shuffle the whole lot up,” Aiden said. “Each set is numbered on the back but if we don’t know which is which, we might—”

  “Okay, okay,” Chris said. “You don’t need to draw us a map. Mix ’em up, not that I think it’ll make any difference. We aren’t going to identify anything useful.”

  Aiden moved the photographs around like a magician hiding a card. “Look for shots of the area, line ’em up, and give it your all.”

  That bought him some glares but they all went to work again.

  The only sound was of breathing.

  Boswell snuffled.

  “Anna went down okay, then?” Chris said after a while.

  Sonnie nodded, but didn’t take her eyes away from the magnifying glass she was using.

  “Oh, my.” Olivia’s scalp tightened. She tapped a photo and looked up. “This was taken in that wide corridor. The one leading to a hall at the back. The glass sculpture was at the opening into the hall. Look at this painting.”

  Sonnie looked first and said, “I don’t like it. And it looks just as bad in both photos.”

  “Let me see,” Aiden said. He pored over the images. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

  Chris got up and leaned over Aiden’s shoulder. “It stinks. In both versions. You’re imagining things, Olivia. There’s nothing different.”

  “I am not imagining anything.” She pounded the table with a fist and plopped a third shot down. “Same painting.” This time three heads bent over the exhibits, and two of them began to shake slowly from side to side.

  “Got it,” Sonnie said excitedly. “This had to be in the second batch.”

  Olivia pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Look on the other side.”

  “Second batch,” Sonnie said, her eyes shining. “How would someone do that?”

  “Not sure,” Olivia said. “I’m no expert on things like that. But now I remember mentioning a funny smell, and Penny said she thought one of the bathrooms was being worked on.”

  “Whoa!” Aiden snatched up the three photos. “Would you two mind sharing your little secret?”

  “Someone told me you could do that with Goof Off,” Sonnie said. “Do you have Goof Off in England?”

  “I don’t think so. The smell was a bit like turps—turpentine—but not exactly.”

  “Olivia?” Aiden said.

  She looked at him, then at Chris, who wasn’t smiling either. “Someone’s started removing paint from the canvas,” Sonnie said. “What do you see in that one?” She selected a photo.

  “Ugly daubs,” Aiden said. “A bunch of shapes.”

  “Colors?” Olivia asked.

  This time it was Chris who said, “Red, purple, lavender, different shades of pink.”

  Sonnie went directly to the third picture. “Now what do you see?”

  Both men studied hard and said, “Same,” in unison.

  “Check out the bottom right corners,” Olivia said, bobbing on her toes. “Where you see a signature on one, and all but the first letters missing on the second. And what about the color in that area on the second one?”

  “Geez,” Aiden said. “I’ve got to be tired or I wouldn’t have missed that. Gray where it should be red.”

  “Why would anyone do a thing like that?” Olivia asked. “Ruin a painting with some sort of solvent?”

  Aiden ran a hand around the back of his neck. “One painting on top of another. Maybe I’ll plead that this is so simple, I didn’t even consider looking for it. The authentic painting is underneath. The painting on top is done to hide the real thing. The reason for taking some of the outer coat off is to make sure the real thing’s there.”

  “I didn’t see it at the time,” Olivia murmured. “I wasn’t aware of anything but the shots Penny Biggies wanted. The place was really quiet. There was the smell, of course, but it didn’t mean anything much at the time.”

  “This is great,” Chris said. “Or it is as long as Ryan sees it, too. If he keeps up the pattern, he won’t take a hike without trying to make sure these don’t get into official hands. Since the negatives aren’t with the pho
tos Kitty lifted, he’ll have to assume we have them. He’s obviously involved with whatever went on there.”

  “Art theft, presumably,” Aiden said, and was once again aware of a very important missing piece of the puzzle. “You and Penny must have interrupted them, Olivia. But if they took off without the painting, I don’t know what they’d be so worried about. We need to find out if there’s a case on record now.”

  Chris hummed and looked over the water, where reflected light rocked on wavelets. “The way Fish and Moody have behaved can only mean there’s stolen art work involved. We know there is, otherwise Ryan wouldn’t be yelling about it in New York and blaming you and Olivia.”

  “Ryan isn’t working with Fish and Moody,” Aiden said. “I listened to Ryan and Fats talking about it. Ryan knows every move the London boys make. They don’t know a thing about what he’s up to or even that he’s involved. Then the really weird thing is that Fats doesn’t know everything either. He kept trying to get Ryan to tell him why he didn’t want Fish and Moody to find out he was around, but Ryan wouldn’t say a thing except that’s the way he wanted it. And it’s all up for grabs unless we can get our hands on either Ryan and Fats, or the other two—or even Kitty—before they all disappear. Thinking about them rolling in stolen bucks and basking on a beach somewhere drives me nuts.”

  Olivia put her hand on his. “Don’t you think the really bad news is that if Ryan and Fats, or any of them, do see that there’s evidence, they’ll want to make absolutely sure we don’t have it, too? They’ll come after us, won’t they? I’m not sure we can win whatever happens. We should leave, Aiden. We can’t risk drawing in those people here.”

  Aiden looked to Chris, but rather than say yea or nay, Chris said, “We’re safe in hoping we’ve got a few hours before all hell breaks loose—or not. Darn it, this is a crazy-making case. Anyway, there are beds made up downstairs for the two of you. You’ll find some clothes to get along with. You’ll make do with some of mine, Aiden. Sleep. I’ll wake you up early and we’ll see what we’ve got by then. Go on.”

  “I’m going to do just one thing first.” Aiden got out his cell phone. “I don’t want this call traced here.” He pressed numbers and covered the mouthpiece. “Don’t make a sound.”

  “It’s two in the morning,” Chris said. “Who are you calling?”

  “The chief’s secretary,” Aiden told him. “You remember Margy? She often gets in real early.”

  Chris started to reply, but Aiden shushed him and said, “Good morning, Margy,” into the phone. “It’s Aiden. I’m okay. I’m glad you’re on duty. I was hoping you could give me a rundown on what’s happening back there.”

  Margy didn’t say a word.

  “Talk to me, Margy,” he said gently. “I don’t want to put you in a difficult spot, but I need some help. With Vanni at the hospital, and—”

  “How could you do this?” Margy said. “How could you?” She hung up.

  Twenty-three

  A clock ticked in Olivia’s room. Sonnie had warned that the basement of the house wasn’t as warm as it should be, but she’d put a down comforter on the bed and Olivia sank deep beneath it, covered her ears, and tried to shut out the relentless sound of the clock.

  She wore a borrowed flannel nightie. In the morning she intended to put on an oversized green sweater and khaki cotton pants with a drawstring at the waist. These she had placed on a chair by the bed, ready to grab at a moment’s notice. Long woolen socks and someone’s pair of discarded tennis shoes would complete the outfit.

  Aiden had remained upstairs with Chris for some time after she’d come down, taken a shower, and climbed into bed. Eventually she’d heard his careful footsteps descending the stairs. Obviously he didn’t want to wake her up.

  The shower had run; he’d gone into the room opposite hers and closed the door.

  This was it, the way a heart felt when it was about to break.

  They were in an impossible fix, together, but sooner or later it would end, and then what? She hoped, couldn’t help hoping, that they wouldn’t just walk away from each other, but it wasn’t up to her to make the moves.

  She turned over and stuck her head out from the comforter to listen. Did anyone still think the moves should only be made by men—anyone other than her mother?

  Aiden could really kiss. He did a lot of things just as well.

  And thinking about that produced predictable results. Olivia rolled onto her stomach and tried to visualize calming white light flowing through her veins.

  What she really visualized wasn’t calming. Aiden Flynn naked wasn’t likely to calm any woman. The memory of his hands moving over her made certain she couldn’t imagine ever sleeping or being calm again.

  The clenching around her heart wasn’t about sex, it was about meeting a man she already couldn’t consider being without.

  On the one hand, they were getting a clearer picture of the obstacles they confronted. On the other hand, the clearer the picture became, the more complex and frustrating it also became.

  She didn’t want to be alone in this room and chasing dead end thoughts.

  The creak she heard could be anything, but she was sure it was Aiden, tossing in bed just as she was.

  A door creaked slowly open.

  More muffled sounds followed, the kind of sounds feet made when you were trying not to make any noise.

  There was a sliding glass door on the lake side of the house. It opened now, and even beneath her quilt, Olivia thought she felt cold air enter the room.

  The slider didn’t close again. At least, she didn’t hear it close.

  Aiden had gone outside into the wet night. He was a deeply troubled man who took his responsibilities seriously, and he thought he was responsible for everything bad that had happened while he’d been with her.

  Without putting on a light, Olivia threw back the covers and swung her feet over the edge of the bed and into a pair of rubber thongs. The rose-spattered nightie didn’t reach her knees, and a pink terrycloth robe Sonnie had left was equally short.

  Cinching the robe belt tight, Olivia approached the door and put her ear to a panel to listen. In the distance, water slapped softly at the lake bank.

  She opened her door an inch at a time and slipped into an unfinished area with a bare board floor. Puffy, silver-coated insulation showed between open steel studs. The scent there was of fresh wood shavings.

  As she’d thought, the sliding door stood open. Spotlights at the back of the house illuminated a long boardwalk leading to the lake and thirty or so feet on either side, but didn’t penetrate the deeper darkness.

  Rain fell. Not heavy, soaking rain, but fine mist, and the night had grown bone-cold.

  Olivia stepped outside and hesitated. He must want to be alone. He was wrong not to include her, to admit that two brains were better than one, but then, he was a man.

  Now that was an unfair thought.

  She peered in every direction but saw no sign of him.

  That sliver of moon still rode in the sky, peering through a hole in the diaphanous clouds. Olivia thought she saw a movement to the left, where the ground sloped off to the water.

  What was the worst he could do to her? Ignore her? Be rude and tell her to go away? She was a big girl—she could take it.

  With each step she took, her feet squished in the thongs. Moisture coated her skin and turned her clothing cold and damp. She veered away from the boardwalk, tried to pinpoint the spot where she thought she’d seen Aiden.

  There was no sign of him now.

  She reached the water’s edge and searched in either direction. Trees lined the property, forming a black fringe that reached into a padded pewter sky. A boathouse and a shed were dimly visible.

  Nothing moved but the veil of rain and a breeze through the tall trees, but Olivia felt watched.

  Her stomach tightened, and her heart beat too fast to be comfortable. She crossed her arms and turned her back on the house. A few scattered lights showed in t
he distance, on the opposite side of the lake. The breeze shifted her hair and felt good despite the way the misty rain wetted her neck.

  She held her breath, hoping to hear Aiden move, hoping he’d come to her.

  He didn’t.

  The time had passed for worrying about her sodden feet. Olivia began a measured trudge along the edge of the water. Soft ripples bobbled there. She was thousands of miles from home, in a country so very different from her own, and she’d managed the unbelievable feat of meeting a man who had changed her forever.

  A figure she knew belonged to Aiden separated from the back of the shed and approached her. His hands were in the pockets of dark pants. If his hair weren’t light, she might not have seen him even yet.

  There was no doubt that they intended to confront each other in this unlikely place.

  Aiden stopped a few feet distant and said, “I don’t have a chance, do I? Whether I want to or not, we’re going to seek each other out. Maybe I should say I do want to, but I wish I didn’t.”

  “And all I want to do is see you, Aiden, be with you. I know all about the obstacles, but I can’t help myself and I’m not going to lie about it.”

  He started toward her again. “I’m not much for talking a lot. Never have been.”

  “What man is?” she said.

  Aiden stood in front of her now, his hands still in the pockets of his dark sweatpants. The sweatshirt he wore was also a dark color. Even in poor light, it was impossible to avoid seeing a face she couldn’t forget if she tried. The profusion of silver jewelry had been discarded. Only the single gold ring in his left ear remained.

  Could she even hope to know him long enough to get past the wall of enigma he carried? Did she want to?

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” he said. “Women want to discuss feelings. Men just want to feel. Or maybe I’m being too generous to my side. I don’t want complications. I’ve never had any kind of commitment to a woman, and the thought of starting one now scares me.”

  Just hearing him talk about it, admit that she was on his mind, gave her hope. “Would it scare you if we weren’t in a… We’re both in jeopardy. Would it make a difference if we weren’t?”