by Sylvie Kurtz
“But Temple’s got this mistaken impression your expertise is worth your trouble.”
Thank God for guardian angels of the senior management kind, specialized knowledge, and a string of media-worthy solved cases attached to his efforts. But none of this pull would count for anything if the truth came out. His career was self-destructing before his eyes.
“I’m passing the case on to Stanley Fowler.”
Stanley Fowler! The jerk was more image than imagination. A strict nine-to-fiver. He would never prove a match for the Phantom. His brain couldn’t flex far enough to anticipate the thief’s actions. They’d get so far behind, Willy would die of old age before they caught him.
“Is that all?” Lucas said, not caring that his antagonism showed.
Regan reached for a bulletin tacked on the wall and shoved it at Lucas. “There’s an opening in Billings.”
Translation: take it willingly before I force feed it on you.
A resident agency, not even a field office. Lucas crushed the paper in his fist without reading it. He’d hate it there with every fiber of his body. Billings wasn’t part of his plans. Boston and Briana were. So was Juliana—her arms, her bed, her heart. “They have sapphire mines up in Montana. Maybe they need someone with my expertise.”
Regan leaned his beefy fists on top of his desk and fixed him with a stare that had gotten more than one seasoned criminal to sweat bullets. “You’re pushing your luck, Vassilovich.”
Lucas leaned forward, placing his fists on the desk, matching Regan’s stance. “I’m fighting for what’s mine—in and out of the Bureau. Something you can’t understand.”
“This is a team sport, and you’re not a team player.”
“I don’t know. It seems this player came in mighty handy last November when you insisted on letter perfect paperwork and screwed up the timing. We missed the Phantom at the museum by five friggen minutes.” Rule #2 was cover your ass—which Regan had done admirably by making sure Lucas had taken the full brunt for the failure to apprehend. “And because you wouldn’t sign off on getting a replica of the Nadyenka Sapphire, I’ve lost a family heirloom. Tell me that’s not putting my butt on the line for the ‘team.’”
Regan’s nostrils flared. “Channels—”
“Screw the channels. Channels didn’t help me today when I needed your support.”
Regan’s gaze narrowed. “Even with Temple behind you, you’re expendable. One letter, Vassilovich, that’s all it’s going to take.”
And Regan didn’t mean a letter of praise. If he had any imagination at all, Regan would expend it all on this last letter of censure. Lucas straightened and turned to leave.
“You’re maxed out on vacation,” Regan said. “You’re going to start losing it.”
No mistaking the underlying threat. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that. In the meantime, hand over your files to Fowler.”
As he stepped through the door, Regan’s voice stabbed him. “The kid, she looks like you.”
Maybe Regan wasn’t as devoid of creative perception as he’d thought. No sense casting further aspersions as to the reasons for this particular failure to catch the thief. Would he have acted differently if Juliana hadn’t been involved? He didn’t know, and that bothered him. He was good at what he did because he could focus from start to finish without a lapse. Now he had to wonder.
Would it come down to a choice of one or the other?
* * *
Lucas watched, trapped on the wrong side of the two-way mirror. Walters and Randall shared the space with him. Juliana looked small and fragile under the glare of the harsh light, and as out of place as a china doll on a soccer field right before kick-off. Briana sat in her lap, playing with a bean bag dragon with pink iridescent wings. It was all he could do to stand there and pretend they were simply two strangers.
Stanley Fowler, an agent two years from retirement, sat stoically across from Juliana. His black suit always looked hanger fresh. His shirt was always crisp and white. His tie always charcoal. Thin strands of gray-brown hair covered an otherwise bald head. He threw indelicate questions Juliana’s way with bland complacency, and complete disregard for the child.
She handled herself well, but the constant hammering was starting to take its toll. Enough was enough. Time to stop this. Lucas moved toward the door, only have Walters stop him. “Don’t you want to see how this plays?”
“Fowler’s badgering the witness.”
“What’s it to you?” Walters swigged back a hefty gulp of coffee.
“There’s a kid in there. She has nothing to do with this. She was just a convenient mark for the Phantom.”
“The kid doesn’t need to be there, if that’s what’s bothering you. There’s plenty of clerks who’ll be glad to keep her busy.”
“Without her, the mother won’t talk. She’s just had her child kidnapped. She’s not about to let her go in the care of strangers.”
Walters’s gaze narrowed and he eyed him critically. “Can’t you read the body language? The mother’s hiding something. She knows more than she’s telling.”
Lucas stared at mother and daughter. Briana fidgeted in her mother’s lap. Juliana snugged her body protectively around Briana. “She’s afraid for her daughter.”
Walters slurped at his coffee. “She’s got nothing to be afraid of. It’s the Phantom we want, not them.”
Until they found out about the theft. Then she wouldn’t be the only one in trouble. His own career would be over.
“Since when are you the sensitive type anyway?” Walters teased. Rather than give his feelings away, Lucas said nothing. Walters’ smile faded when the expected rise didn’t manifest.
The borders of the truth Lucas had held as simple and straight-forward were suddenly not so clear, not so definite. Like a computer image morphing a man into a panther, truth changed and migrated with time and place. It could be distorted, shifted, turned on its head to suit the circumstances. It was no longer just a matter of law and lawbreaker. He was stooping down to the Phantom’s level, using half-truths to suit his purpose. Was there so much difference between him and the Phantom?
Maybe not as much as he’d like to believe.
Was that the lesson the Phantom had taunted him with?
* * *
Juliana collapsed in a kitchen chair and gladly accepted the cup of tea Ella handed her.
Briana was safely tucked in her own bed, sleeping peacefully the way only a child could. It had taken all Juliana had not to slip under the covers with her, not to frighten her daughter with her own insecurities. The interrogation at the hands of the FBI agents hadn’t seemed to faze Briana that much. Keeping everything as normal as possible—including bedtime and sleeping arrangements—was the best tactic.
Juliana feared she hadn’t fared as well. The seemingly endless “whys” and “then whats”, repeated this way and that—as if she, not the Phantom, were the criminal—her fear of straying from the scenario Lucas had drilled into her, of betraying him and costing him his job, had drained her. Yet with every muscle wound so tight, she couldn’t sleep for hours.
At least she was home with Briana, not in jail. Because of Lucas’s drilling, she’d stuck to her story. But a part of her couldn’t help wonder how all this would affect him. His work defined him in an integral way.
Ella puttered in the background, putting away the remnants of a late supper they’d barely touched.
Lucas sat at the head of the table, gazing at her with his deep, dark, fathomless eyes. But she didn’t care anymore, couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t muster up another ounce of emotion. Let him stare. Let him make his “because” assumptions.
“I need your help, Juliana.”
Not what she’d thought would be his opening line. Closing her eyes, she let the warm ginger infusion attempt its relaxing magic. “I thought you were on vacation.”
“Officially.”
She gave a short, dry laugh. Some things didn’t change. “But never o
ff duty.”
“Something like that.” As he fiddled with his mug, the base scritched against the wooden tabletop. For some reason that show of tension seemed out of place in this usually confidant man. Her shoulders hiked up and she rounded over the steam of her cup, placing both hands on its sides to gather more heat.
“The agent they have working the case doesn’t stand a chance of catching the Phantom,” Lucas said.
“So?”
“I can’t let him go. He has the Nadyenka Sapphire.” He hesitated and the hesitation made her look up into the confusion whirling in his eyes. Lucas vulnerable? She didn’t want to think about that.
“Do you know what it is?” he asked.
She shrugged. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to know. If she did, she sensed it would bring further chaos to her life. “It’s a piece of heirloom jewelry from some eastern European country that no longer exists.”
“Dunavia. It’s—it was—a triangle of land on the Danube between Romania and Serbia. It remained unbreachable for centuries because two sides were protected by waters so rough boats couldn’t navigate them. On the third side was a range of mountains. Then the Danube was dammed. The waters calmed. The enemies came. Do you know who Peter I of Serbia was?”
She shook her head. Where was he going with this?
“He’s the man who killed my great-grandfather—Edik II of Dunavia. Before he died, he gave Aleksi, his eldest son, my grandfather, the Nadyenka Sapphire to keep in trust until the monarchy could once again reign.”
“Your great-grandfather was a king?”
“Yes.” He shook his head, making a gruff sound low in his throat. “Sometimes, even to my face, other agents call me Prince Valiant. Ironic, huh?”
The sadness in his eyes made her swallow thickly. “They don’t know about your lineage?”
“Not at this level.” The mug’s revolutions slowed. “The Nadyenka Sapphire is the only thing of my family heritage I have left. Do you know how often my grandfather and my father could have sold it to make life easier for their families?”
She shook her head, remembering watching with horror how her mother sold all of her precious jewels, including her cherished wedding ring, to support her children after her father’s death. How even that hadn’t been enough to save her, save their family.
“I have to get it back.”
Juliana took a long sip of tea. Ella busily ran water into the sink to scrub the pots. The clock on the wall counted out its steady rhythm. She put the cup back on the table and stared at the amber liquid.
Even understanding his emotional ties to the brooch wasn’t enough to allow her to endanger Briana’s life again. Couldn’t he see that? Did he value his cursed heirloom more than his own daughter’s life? “I can’t, Lucas. Briana—”
“I would never place Briana in danger. I want both of you safe.” His hands’ restless movements stopped abruptly, ending the mug’s scratching agony. “Make me a replica so I can set up a trap.”
Her shoulders sagged. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
She got up, passed Ella who was drying and putting away pots and pans, and dumped the cold contents of her cup into the sink. “Without the original, it’s going to be hard to do. It’s going to take a lot of time. Even rushed….”
“What’s to stop the Phantom from using Briana again to get you to steal another piece for him?”
Breath tight in her chest, she leaned heavily into the sink’s edge. “That’s uncalled for!”
His chair scrapped against the floor. The sure movement of his running shoes squeaked on the tiles. He stopped behind her, not touching, but close enough for his breath to ruffle the top of her hair, for the heat of him to seek her, make her knees feel weak, her body yearn to lean back into him.
“You want everything safe and secure,” he said, his voice a soft, sure caress. “But with him loose, you’ll need to watch Briana every second of her life. What’s that going to do to her? What’s that going to do to you?”
Her fingers curled tighter around the sink’s edge. “Stop it!”
“This neat little world you’ve created for yourself, it has flaws.”
Her gaze snapped to the window, seeking his reflection against the darkened glass. “I realize that.”
“Did you know Albert Tilton spent twelve years in the Concord State Prison?”
She spun around to face Lucas. “Albert? What for?”
“Murder.”
Reaching a hand to her heart, she gasped. “Murder?”
Ella smacked the pot she’d finished drying against the stove’s top. She whirled around with both hands on her hips.
“Ella?” Juliana asked, unnerved by the fierceness of Ella’s purposeful steps towards Lucas.
Ella stared harshly at Lucas, her lips a straight line, her eyebrows pinched in a scowl.
“Now you listen young man, and you listen good.” She drilled her index finger with each of her words into Lucas’s chest for emphasis. He stood his ground, took her abuse. “You don’t know anything about Albert and me. You don’t know what it took for Albert to do what he did. You have absolutely no idea what it’s cost him over the years. How he still suffers. There is no one more devoted to Juliana and Briana than Albert. He would never do anything to harm them. Ever. He would die for them. Yes, he did kill a man forty-seven years ago. But there was a good reason, and he’s never wanted me to mention it—to save my good name, not his.”
“Ella?” Juliana started.
“Albert, he’s no hardened killer, Juliana. He’s a good man.”
“I know. I trust him. What happened?”
With one hand Ella reached for a chair and sank into it, but didn’t release her zealous visual hold on Lucas’s face. “A man… a boy really. Patrick O’Shea. His best friend….” She shook her head, dropping her gaze. Embarrassment brightened her cheeks even over the flush of anger still visible. Then she looked up at Lucas once more, pride straightening her spine and tilting her chin. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this. Pat was in the middle of raping me. Albert pulled him off. He never meant to kill him, only to protect me. It was an accident.”
“But when you applied for a job as a child’s caretaker,” Lucas insisted not looking at Ella, but straight into Juliana’s eyes, “you didn’t think it was important to mention Albert’s conviction. You kept it secret.”
Ella’s gaze narrowed. “Seems to me neither of you are ones to talk.” She hefted out of the chair. “We’ll be leaving in the morning.”
“No, Ella, there’s no need for that.” Juliana reached for Ella. Ella deftly avoided the physical contact.
“Albert, he’s a good man.”
“I know. I need you. Briana needs you. Please, Ella…. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“It’s Albert I’m thinking of.” She slammed the door on her way out.
“Why?” Juliana asked, guarding herself against the chill once again creeping through her bones. “Why did you have to say such a hurtful thing?”
“No one is safe, Jewel. No place is safe.”
“Albert made a mistake, but he’s a good man.” Would she have hired the Tiltons if she’d known about Albert’s conviction? Yes, she decided, if she’d known the circumstances, she would still have welcomed them in her home. A man willing to risk everything to protect the woman he loves deserved a chance to live in peace. “You didn’t have to hurt Ella. I have to go talk to her.”
Lucas curled his fingers around her shoulder, stopping her flight. His touch held purpose and need. She wanted to cover his fingers with her own, but could not forget the wedge he’d driven between her and Ella—the person she’d counted most on since Briana was born.
“I have to catch the Phantom,” he said, softly. “He could use Briana again—with or without her cooperation. Or he could use another child. Torture another family.”
“And then the next one, and the one after that. For you, there’s always going
to be another Phantom.” No one is safe, Jewel. No place is safe. Had he learned that with his father’s death? Was that why he’d become a hunter of criminals? Had the ceaseless hunt for justice deprived him of all hope? “You accused me of wanting everything safe and secure, but what about you, Lucas? Without your badge, are you ever going to feel safe anywhere?”
His hand dropped from her shoulder. A sigh escaped her. The right words could cut more deeply than any knife. She was learning that lesson exceedingly well tonight. Cracks definitely filled her safe little world. Yet in spite of everything she’d lost, of everything she’d gone through, of everything still ahead, the blossom of hope deep inside her refused to wither. Briana would have a good life, a happy life.
By using her jeweler’s skills she could take charge of her future, rebuild what Lucas and the Phantom had torn apart. A replica. If that was all it took to catch this cruel thief, she couldn’t refuse.
She reached for the knob and opened the door. Turning to exit, she looked at him. He had found Briana, but his need to hunt would make him a sporadic element in her life. What a loss that would be for both father and daughter. “I don’t have molds. I don’t have pictures.”
“I do.”
Hop. Skip. Assume. Always one step ahead. She nodded and turned to leave. Too bad he couldn’t see the real treasure in his life had gray eyes and a brown ponytail.
“Kidnappings don’t usually have a happy ending, Jewel.”
For her daughter’s safety’s sake, for her own peace of heart, Juliana would help him. And after he’d caught the Phantom, she would introduce Briana to her father, show Lucas the grounding chaos a child could bring. She hadn’t quite figured out the logistics yet, but it would work out. After all, most children today divided their times between separated parents and still managed to grow up into healthy, productive members of society. “I’ll make your replica.”
“Thank you.”
Seeking his gaze once more, she squeezed the knob tighter. “I want Briana to have a home to come to, to feel safe in. I want her to know I’m always going to be here for her. I’d like her to have that from you, too.”
The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed hard once. “I promise, Jewel, I’ll protect both of you.”
