by Sylvie Kurtz
“You’re back early,” he said, pasting an appropriately schooled expression on his face, drawing her farther into the living room when it became clear she wouldn’t let him lead her back into the kitchen.
She dropped the suitcase she held, removed her jacket and flung it onto a chair. With the practice of familiarity, she reached for him, pressed her skinny body against his, and kissed him. Residual warmth from the stones’ description still coursed through him, and he managed to kiss her in return.
“I caught an earlier flight. Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“Yes, of course.”
She cocked her head, still smiling, but the brilliance had faded. “But?”
“I’m in the middle of a project right now, and I need privacy.” He stroked her topaz-colored hair, the way he knew she liked, deepened his voice a notch or two, and forced himself to look raptly into her eyes. “Could you stay at your sister’s for the night?”
“Why?”
“It’ll spoil the surprise if I tell you now.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“I had plans for us.” He kissed her deeply and was relieved to hear her satisfied sigh. “The best kind.”
Her fingers played with the V-edge of his vest’s neckline. “Well, I guess I could. Just for tonight. Just for you.”
“Hi, Miss Cindy.”
The tiny voice caught them both by surprise. Cindy spun in his arms to look at the child standing at the living room door uncertainly with Bijou, his Yorkie, in her arms. Then Cindy looked back at him, disappointment full and heavy in her amber eyes. Oh well, he hadn’t really expected things to last. Affairs of the heart never did.
Only jewels.
“What have you done this time?”
Chapter 4
Through the small slit in the living room curtains Juliana watched Lucas drive away in her car. She was glad he hadn’t held her. If he had, she’d have fallen apart in his arms, she’d have confessed all her sins, and she needed to stay together, to stay in control, to stay silent. To ensure the Phantom would return Briana to her, she had to control her emotions.
I’ll be back. Lucas’s voice had been both warm and sure when he’d said the words, his eyes as beseeching as they’d been determined.
But she couldn’t trust the softer side of this man. For him this was just another day at work, business as usual, and this business of justice was the most important thing in his life.
He’d be back. To catch his Phantom, he’d risk even his own daughter’s life. Maybe she should tell him that. Maybe that would keep him away. Shaking her head, she gave a short, dry laugh. No, knowing he had a daughter would only make things worse. He was an arrogant, persevering man. Escalating the stakes would only make him more determined to succeed. She couldn’t risk losing Briana. Confessing the truth would have to wait.
She let the curtain fall back into place. He was giving her the afternoon. She needed to use it to shore up her defenses against him—against herself. Where to start? What to do?
Spotting a framed picture of Briana’s smiling face, she snatched it from the mantel, along with a half dozen other frames and stuffed her treasures into a cedar chest where she kept a collection of quilts. She looked around the room once more, making sure she’d left no stray photograph of Briana to betray her secret.
Everywhere she looked memories of Briana assaulted her. Her sweet smile. Her free laughter. Even her tears over a scuffed knee or a bumped elbow. She could feel the press of Briana’s body against hers as they cuddled on the couch to read, hear the impatient knock of her sneakers against the chair’s leg when things weren’t going her way, smell the little girl scent of her fresh from the bath. A knot of pain gripped Juliana’s heart and refused to leave. When would this torture end?
Stop thinking! Keep busy.
Pacing aimlessly, she straightened an already spotless room, fluffing pillows, adjusting lampshades, repatriating plants. No toys lay around to trip over, no discarded jackets to hang up, no abandoned socks or shoes for which to find a mate. Tears burned her eyes once more, but she fought shedding them. Once they started, she wasn’t sure she could stop.
She sniffed, redoubled her pace, and ended up back in the kitchen, staring at the door leading to the garage. She could still see him there, filling the frame, looking at her with his dark eyes. She could still hear his voice washing over her like a sorcerer’s spell, feel the shiver that had rippled through her at the sound of his promise.
I’ll be back.
“I don’t want you back!” With a resolute snap, she turned the lock. Then she headed to the living room to do the same to the front door.
She’d felt so safe, so secure in the haven she’d created for herself and Briana. The neighborhood had once seemed so friendly. Now every house, every window, could hide her unknown enemy. These walls had made her feel sheltered, protected—just like the home in the Lakes Region where she’d grown up. Now someone had breached her sense of safety.
The day was warm for April, and her sweater should have kept her comfortable enough, but a chill had cut to her bones since Briana had disappeared. Warmth wouldn’t reappear until her daughter was back. Juliana rubbed her arms.
Everything would come out.
She’d lied to Lucas. She’d lied to Briana. And she’d lied to herself.
When he found out she’d deprived him of his own child, he would hate her.
She locked the side door leading to the garden. Nothing would matter unless she got Briana back safe and sound. Even then, she would never feel safe here again. She would have to move. She would have to start all over. The thought brought a marrow-deep lethargy.
She leaned on the wall beside the door. The unexpected knock behind her made her heart race. Lucas? Too soon, too soon. She peeked through the sheer curtains of the kitchen door. Ella. She sighed her relief.
“I brought you some soup for lunch,” Ella said sheepishly, lifting a pot to eye level. “I knew you wouldn’t cook for yourself, and you’ve got to keep up your strength.” She plopped the pot on a burner and turned up the heat. “Is there any news?”
“No, just more waiting.” Juliana paced. “If there was something I could do, maybe I wouldn’t feel so helpless, so hopeless.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Ella reached into the bread box and took out a loaf of sourdough bread. “It would be easier to chop down a whole forest than to just stay next door, waiting and pacing. Poor Albert hasn’t slept a wink. Won’t eat a thing, either.”
Juliana realized keeping Ella and Albert away had probably added to their anguish. But she had to keep Ella and Lucas apart—for a little while longer anyway.
“I saw someone leave with your car.” Ella grated some cheddar onto a plate. “I knew it wasn’t you and I wondered….”
“An acquaintance.”
“From work?” Ella slapped a skillet onto another burner and turned it on.
“No.”
Ella pursed her lip. “Oh.”
Juliana sighed. Ella and Albert had been loyal, devoted friends—always there when she needed them—and she was repaying them with distance and rudeness.
“He’s trying to help me get Briana back,” Juliana said, wanting to smoothe over some of Ella’s ruffled feathers.
“He?”
Juliana’s life had centered around Briana and her needs, and working at her shop to keep them furnished with what they required to survive. Relationships with men had been practically non-existent and rarely lasted more than one date. She could count her friends on one hand, and most of them were a result of her profession—something strictly separate from her personal life. She never brought anyone home. This house was—had been—her own little world, hers and Briana’s.
“Someone I knew a long time ago,” she said reluctantly.
“Oh.” After melting a pat of butter in the pan, Ella layered slices of bread and grated cheese into the skillet to make a sandwich. “Can he do anything?”
Other than create plenty of trouble? “I’m not sure. He’s looking into it.”
Ella flipped the grilled cheese over. “I’m glad you’ll have someone to share the burden. It’s about time. Albert and I are always glad to help out, and we consider you and Briana family, but you need someone… well, someone your own age, dear, to share the good and the bad of life. My life’s been richer for having Albert around. Can’t imagine what I’d do without him. Especially now, when I feel so responsible for your loss.”
“It’s not your fault, Ella.” The fault was hers. Juliana had failed to protect her own daughter, reneged on the promise she’d made on the day Briana was born to keep her safe always.
“All the same, I feel responsible. And you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”
“He’s not that kind of friend.”
“That’s too bad.” Ella set a bowl of steaming vegetable soup and a plate of grilled cheese points on the table at Juliana’s regular place. “Will he be back for dinner?”
I hope not. “I don’t know.”
“Sit and eat.”
Juliana stared at the food and nausea engulfed her. “I’m not hungry.”
“Having you faint with hunger is not going to do Briana any good now, is it? You need to eat to keep up your strength. You didn’t eat dinner last night, and I’ll bet you haven’t had any breakfast either. You want to be able to go wherever you get sent to pick your daughter up.”
Reluctantly, Juliana sat down. “You’re right.”
She forced down a spoonful of soup, tasted none of it. The phone rang and instantly she sprang to her feet, knocking over the portable phone to the floor. Ella, who’d been standing next to the wall phone, answered.
* * *
Amid the ringing of phones, the clatter of computer keys, and waves of voices, Lucas entered the cramped corner of the Criminal Investigation squad room reserved for the special Interstate Personal Property Task Force at the FBI’s Boston field office—an ugly concrete eyesore in Government Center.
“Hey, Vassilovich, R-and-R’s looking for you,” Scott Walters said as he poured a cup of liquid dynamite from the coffee pot. “He’s hot under the collar again. I told you, you’ve got to cross those Ts.”
That Rudy Regan, Jr., their Senior Supervisory Resident Agent, was looking for him was not news. Lucas had ignored his BlackBerry’s urgent vibrating twice already and was asking for trouble. “Yeah, Ts and Is, they always give me problems. Seen Harris anywhere?”
“Punching data into NaDIS.”
The National DNA Index System. They hadn’t gotten close enough to the Phantom to gather any DNA evidence. “Give a shout if Rules-and-Regs walks in, will ya?”
“Doin’ the old avoidance dance?”
“And I’m not as fancy a stepper as you are.”
Walters howled, and disappeared behind a partition.
“How long have I got?”
“He’s been with the SAC for an hour already.”
Which meant time was short. Special-Agent-in-Charge Don Temple was known for his brevity—something Lucas usually appreciated. He snaked across the maze of cubicles to the far end. As Walters had predicted, he found Jeb Harris hunched over a computer keyboard, inserting data.
Harris was fresh out of the Academy, and still on probation. With his short blond hair, clean cut good looks, starched shirt and polished shoes, he could play poster boy for the model agent recruit of old G-men movies. More often than not, he got stuck in the office doing grunt work. Every street agent had to go through that phase, but Harris seemed to take it harder than most. The way he followed rules and regulations made old Rudy purr with contentment, but Lucas also knew Harris champed at the bit for some real action. Lucas was betting the kid’s eagerness would win over his need to follow the standard operating procedures bible according to Regan.
“Harris,” Lucas said, appropriating an empty chair from the cubicle next door. “I have a project for you.”
“Yeah?” Harris’s eyes brightened, then he scrunched his eyebrows. His trusting nature had made him the brunt of more than one joke around the office.
“I hear you’re a whiz with that computer.”
Harris shrugged. “I can work my way around a keyboard.”
“I need some information, and I don’t have time to look for it.”
“Sure.” Harris turned away, returning his attention to the computer screen.
“I need a background on the following people.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket, looked at the names he’d written. Putting Juliana’s name on the list bordered on betrayal, but how else was he supposed to help her? If he understood more of the situation, he could make sure everything went off right. Then everyone would end up happy. Juliana would get her daughter back. He would snare the Phantom. Even Rules-and-Regs could crow about the thief’s capture and get the SAC off his back. Still. He placed the page torn from his pocket notebook on the desk, hesitated, then slipped it across to Harris. “Off the record.”
Renewed interest sparked in Harris’s eyes. “Off the record?”
“Not just criminal, personal, too. Can you do that?”
“Possibly.” Harris glanced at the paper. “Who are these people?”
“Does it matter?” Lucas was not about to explain the complicated web of this situation to anyone until he absolutely had to.
“Might.” Harris looked up, and shot him with an uncertain look. “Does Regan know about this?”
“No.” Lucas had nothing against rules and regulations, or chain-of-command formalities. He followed them whenever he could. But sometimes gut feelings had their place, and this was one of those times. He simply didn’t have time to dot every I, cross every T, or placate every hard-nosed supervisor.
Shaking his head, Harris stared at the names. “I don’t know. Regan’s strict about protocol. He’s not going to like this. I’m still on probation. I don’t want to be stuck at a desk for the rest of my career—or get busted out because you put me between a rock and a hard place.”
Lucas let the room’s noises fill the space between them. The silence was a gamble, but the decision had to be Harris’s.
Harris straightened. His mouth parted, then snapped shut. “Has this got anything to do with the Phantom?” He was trying to hide his eagerness, but practically salivated at the thought of doing some work on an important on-going investigation. He was hooked. All Lucas had to do was reel him in.
“If you can get that information for me today, I can nab him tomorrow.”
“You’ll cut me in on the action when you close in on him?”
“I’ll make sure you’re part of the team.” Lucas stood up and handed Harris a card. “My cell phone number’s on the back. Call me as soon as you have something.”
“How thorough do you want it?”
“Hey, boss, got a minute?” Walters shouted in warning. R-and-R was back.
“As thorough as you can get it. I need something by tonight. I’ve got to go. And Harris…”
“Yeah?”
“You haven’t seen me.”
Smiling, Harris cleared his screen and pulled up another. “Right. Prince Valiant, he’s still on surveillance somewhere in New Hampshire, isn’t he?”
Lucas wound his way to the door, gave Walters a salute of thanks, and slipped out before old Regs could skewer him with questions he didn’t want to answer.
One more day and he could balance his transgressions with the Phantom’s capture.
Before he left the building, he stopped at the communications division and sweet-talked a tech into letting him borrow one of the newest trap-and-trace recording systems still being tested. The favor cost him the promise of an afternoon of batting practice with Connie’s son, but it was worth the price.
Why couldn’t his powers of persuasion work as well with Juliana? He’d much rather hear how she’d filled the last six years from her than from a Bureau report.
Glancing at the dash clock, he started Juliana’s ca
r. He usually enjoyed playing seek to the bad guy’s hide, but not this time. Juliana wasn’t a criminal. She was a woman motivated by fear. He would give her space. He would give her opportunity. He would make it safe for her to bare her soul.
But he would take the information any way he could.
He had too much at stake to let the Phantom do all the counting. “Ready or not, Jewel, here I come.”
* * *
Hand over the mouthpiece, Ella whispered to Juliana, “It’s Callie. Do you want to talk to her?”
“I’d better.” Juliana let out her held breath and took the phone. Callie Mercier, her assistant, not the Phantom. But her uneasiness didn’t completely dissipate. Callie was knowledgeable and trustworthy. On the few occasions Juliana had had to take time away from the shop, Callie had handled everything efficiently. Knowing how Juliana prized her privacy, for Callie to call, something had to be wrong. “Is everything all right?”
“I really hate to bother you. You never take vacations, and I know you really need this one, but Mr. Horton was just here and he’s spitting mad.”
Oh, no! She’d completely forgotten about the ring.
Brent Horton was a lawyer, specializing in estate law. He’d sent a lot of appraisal work her way over the years, not to mention the amount of original work he’d commissioned for his three ex-wives and his present fiancée. Brent Horton was extremely generous with his ladies. Other than the ten carat diamond-and-emerald engagement ring she was working on, Juliana had already created several other pieces for this particular fiancée.
“You promised him the engagement ring by today,” Callie continued. “He planned an elaborate scene to propose, and he’s royally pissed the ring’s not ready.”
From Callie’s guarded tone of voice Juliana felt her assistant was leaving something out. “I’ll have to put him off for a little while.”
“He’s made a threat or two,” Callie said. “His face was so red, I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. But…”
“What?”
“He said he helped build your business, and he could help bring it down, too.”
