She bounced a little in agony, sitting on the toilet seat in his bathroom. He’d insisted on changing the bandages because she’d bled through them, and she’d been fighting it from the start. “It stings!”
“Of course it does,” he retorted. “Now stop squirming. This is hard enough as it is, and I don’t like hurting you. If you’d gone to the hospital, as I’d suggested—”
“No.” She glared. “Make fun of me all you want, but I have a ginormous needle phobia.”
He tried not to grin, because he was pretty certain she’d deck him if he told her he found her panic cute, in a weird sort of way. She was so tough; who’d have thought she’d freak out over scraped knees or the sight of a needle?
“I wouldn’t make fun of you.” He began bandaging her knees. He’d finished with her elbows and the raw spot on her chin, but the knees looked the worst. “I suggest you make friends with a bottle of Tylenol or Advil starting now, because tomorrow you’ll really be hurting.”
“I know. God, I can’t wait to get my hands on that woman who hit me. I owe her some serious payback.” Then, trying to check herself in the mirror, she asked, “Do I look really bad?”
“Good to see your ego survived undamaged,” Vincent said, caught between exasperation and amusement. “You look fine for someone who went skidding across concrete. It could be a lot worse.”
She winced as she touched her chin. “This had better not leave a scar or I’m gonna kill her.”
“So how about explaining what you think is going on here?”
“The woman I was chasing was watching your place. At first I didn’t pick up on it—I mean, it’s not like I was expecting you to have your own pair of stalkers.”
“Me, either,” he said grimly.
“So the first time she jogged by, I didn’t really notice. I probably wouldn’t have noticed at all if she hadn’t had a work of art written across her ass. Even my ego’s not that big.” She shared a grin with him. “And when she stopped outside your place, tying her shoe, I didn’t think anything of it. But when she stopped the second time, there was no way it could be a coincidence.”
“And you’re sure you saw this same woman at the hotel bar last night?” Vincent asked as he carefully tied off the ends of the gauze bandages.
“Positive. I got a good look at her face when she turned around after her pal almost knocked me over. She recognized me, too; that’s why she took off.”
Vincent stood. “So you think they’re watching me? ”
“Gotta be. They might’ve followed you last night to the bar.” Claudia frowned. “Do you remember when I told you how I had set up a meeting with Digger Brody and he didn’t show?”
It took him a few seconds to place the name. “Yup.”
“Well, it crossed my mind at the time that he stood me up on purpose so someone could get a good look at me.”
“And lo and behold, these two literally run into you shortly after that. They might have been at the hotel for you, not me.”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Can’t say I like it much, either. It’s taking the usual theft for fun and profit in a direction that’s not so usual. Or fun.” Her frown deepened. “Vincent, was anybody from the Art Squad a guest speaker at that convention last night?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“You told me the other night you’ve given talks in public, right?” When he nodded, she added, “To industry people, I’m sure. Museums, universities, galleries, auction houses. Where did you give those talks?”
He knew instantly where she was going with this. “Jesus,” he said softly. “I gave talks in every city where there was a theft.”
“So it looks like the connection in these cases, Vincent, is you. Even the detour interest in me is because of you.”
He sat down against the tub, running through the events of the last four months, replaying in his mind where he’d given those talks. There was no doubt about it: In every city he’d lectured, a theft had followed within a few weeks.
“You’re telling me that all the time I’ve been giving talks on how to protect art collections, I might also have been giving pointers to thieves on how to circumvent those protections?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know their motivation yet, but don’t be too hard on yourself. I doubt you’ve said anything that they couldn’t already read on a half dozen art and museum sites on the Net. The security issues aren’t exactly a big secret, and museums and galleries are open to the public and therefore harder to protect. I really don’t think stealing is the point; it’s you they’re interested in.”
The thought made his skin crawl. “Why?”
“Again, I don’t know. My best guess is that they’re trying to catch your attention. I don’t suppose you’ve noticed any regular attendees at those lectures of yours?”
Vincent sifted through his memories. “I doubt they would have come to any of them. These talks are directed to very specific audiences. I would’ve noticed if the same faces kept showing up.”
“But it’s not likely a coincidence, Vincent. Were those talks publicized?”
“Sure, for industry insiders. Anyone could find the talk schedules posted on museum security news sites. The seminars weren’t intended to be secret.”
“So they pull off a showy little job in every place you give your spiel, as a fuck-you of sorts, I guess, but they don’t get your attention. Then they start stalking you.”
“Well, if they wanted my attention, they got it now.”
As he spoke, something about the phrasing rang familiar. Something he should remember, something important.
“I think we need to talk to Digger Brody again,” she said.
“Yeah,” Vincent agreed absently, trying to pin down the memory. Something about attention, getting it, keeping it . . .
Then it came to him: the blonde at the bar, the one who’d known his name. She’d asked for his name from the bar owner’s kid, but if what Claudia proposed was true, asking might have been for show, because she’d known it all along.
Candy, she’d called herself. The blonde in the flowery dress who’d said, I may have to do something dramatic for that to happen.
She’d been complaining about a man who didn’t notice her because he was wrapped up in another woman.
“Let’s go look at that security data,” he said abruptly.
Claudia flashed him a startled glance. “Fine. Don’t tell me I’m brilliant.”
“You’re brilliant,” he said automatically.
She made a face at him. “Okay. The sooner we get through the recordings, the closer I am to getting my hands on those two. Help me up? Aaaah, ouchies, ouchies!”
Vincent laughed; he couldn’t help it. He kept expecting her to act more like a Marine and less like a kid who’d fallen off her bike.
He glanced at her clothes, then at his own, bloodied and grass-stained. They could also both use a shower, but clean clothing was a higher priority.
After settling her on the couch, Vincent motioned toward the stairs leading to the second story and his bedroom. “I’ll get something for you to wear and throw these clothes in the laundry. Then I’ll make a pizza and we can start going over those recordings.”
“Pizza?” She stared at him. “It’s morning.”
“True, but I don’t usually eat breakfast at home, and the only thing I have in the house is pizza.”
She shrugged. “Okay. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Soon, dressed in clean clothes, sniffing appreciatively at the smell of baking pizza, he and Claudia sat side by side and watched fuzzy security data. He started with the tape from Champion and Stone, which he knew practically by heart.
“They’re deliberately hiding their faces as they pass the camera . . . see how he—or she—pretends to cough here?” Claudia asked, pointing. “And in this one, her hair is obscuring her face. They knew exactly where the cameras were. Also, that woman who came bac
k to look for her watch? Maybe she should’ve been looking for a purse instead—because she had one when she showed up but I didn’t see it with her when she left.”
“What?” Vincent stared at her, realizing he’d missed something important. Swearing under his breath, he quickly checked the frames and saw that he had indeed missed that little detail. Caught up in Gray Suit and the dark-haired woman, he’d missed the obvious. “There’s the other half of the tag team, then.”
“Looks that way.”
“Can’t believe I missed it.
Claudia shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect. We’ve got the info now, and I think we’re beginning to see what’s going on here. Do you have anything earlier from Champion and Stone? I wanna see if these two show up again.”
Vincent shook his head. “Nope. You know how it is; despite repeated warnings to step up security, funds are tight and security gets the short end. They don’t want anyone walking out with a da Vinci, but they also don’t want visitors having to go through security that would put federal penitentiaries to shame.”
Claudia grunted. “Too bad, because people are walking off with da Vincis and van Goghs . . . hell, Munch’s The Scream has been stolen twice over the past fifteen years.”
“We always get it back.” Vincent scratched his chin. “I prefer cases involving high-profile art. It’s impossible to sell those pieces in any legitimate market, so they usually turn up again right away. It’s thieves like these two that give me ulcers. The little stuff . . . man, it’s hard to get it back once it’s gone. But you probably know all about that. It’s one reason why none of us have managed to snag the infamous Rainert von Lahr.”
“Tell me about it,” Claudia said, with feeling. “Not that he hasn’t been involved in some high-profile thefts, but like our girls here, he usually goes for the more obscure pieces. Trading around the small stuff is more profitable for him, not to mention smarter than trying to sell a Renoir or a Picasso.”
“And he’s also smart enough to handle thefts through intermediaries.” Vincent knew of von Lahr but had never been involved in any of the investigations where he’d been identified as a suspect. The FBI’s last direct lead on von Lahr in the United States had followed a botched attempt to smuggle a stolen dinosaur fossil out of the country, and Vincent hadn’t even been working the Art Squad when that happened.
“One of these days, we’ll get him. We may be chasing him around with walkers and bifocals, but we’ll get him.” Claudia sat back, sifting through papers and screen-shot printouts for his notes. “Hmmm, let’s look at the security from the Baltimore theft. I want to focus on the most recent ones because I think that’s where we’re seeing the escalating interest in you.”
Smiling at the thought of ancient FBI and Avalon agents chasing von Lahr with walkers, Vincent pulled out the data from the Baltimore gallery theft and loaded it.
Not even two minutes in, Claudia suddenly straightened. “There. The blonde in the business suit.” Vincent quickly hit the Pause button, and then advanced slowly through each subsequent frame. “She drops her earring, and the clerk, being a nice person, helps her look for it—”
“—while this woman walks right past without being noticed,” Vincent finished. As he studied the screen more closely, a chill washed over him. “Is this your Amazon?”
Claudia leaned forward, peering at the blurred image. “Hard to say. Height looks about right, but she’s bulked up her body to look fat . . . and again with the trick of obscuring the face.”
“What about the blonde? You recognize her?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
She turned, narrowing her eyes, then glanced at the screen before turning back to him again. “Could be the woman I was chasing. What’s wrong?”
“I recognize her. I’m fairly sure it’s the same woman who sat down beside me at a bar a few nights ago.”
“Oh, boy,” Claudia said after a moment. “That’s it, then. I was hoping I might be wrong, cuz it is a pretty wacky theory, but if she walked right up to you like that, there’s no doubt. Tell me about her, Vincent.”
He filled her in and they both sat back, thinking and eating their pizza. Vincent became aware of a growing sense of companionable comfort, the kind that came from a team that clicked. If it hadn’t been for Claudia, he never would’ve known he was being followed by two women who were likely the thieves he’d been chasing for months.
Or he wouldn’t have known until it was too late. He doubted their intentions toward him were friendly; Claudia might have just saved his ass.
“It’s like they’re playing a game with you.”
“A one-sided game, if the other party has no idea what’s going on.”
“You probably would’ve figured it out before too long, and if you didn’t, they would’ve made it more obvious. Why else take the risk of approaching you in a bar? Or starting in on me?”
“It seems pretty damn risky to steal just to get the attention of the man who’ll throw you in prison for the crime. What do they hope to accomplish?”
Claudia looked worried. “We need to lean on Brody. He definitely knows more than he’s letting on.”
“I’ll take care of that right now.” Three calls later, Vincent said, “All set. City cops are on the lookout for Brody and will bring him in for questioning as soon as they find him.”
“It does help to have the cred of an FBI agent,” Claudia said, a twinge of envy in her tone.
Vincent gave a jaw-cracking yawn, then sighed. “This is crazy. Wouldn’t it be a hell of a lot easier to ambush me and tie me up? It’s not like I had any idea I was being followed.”
“Pretty ballsy of them, stalking an FBI agent. These girls got moxie, for sure.”
“Let’s watch the rest of the recordings. I think we’re about to find a pattern and ID some faces.”
The morning wore on as they watched feed after feed, shoulder to shoulder and head to head, saying little.
Several of the recordings provided glimpses of what had now become familiar enough behavior to convince him they were on the right track. “There she is again,” he said quietly as they watched the feed from the Washington, DC, theft. “The Amazon makes a convincing man.”
“She sure does,” Claudia said. “The games bad people play. Ain’t it fun?”
Chapter Sixteen
“How are you doing over there?”
Claudia looked up from the pile of case notes she’d been reading. They were just like Vincent, detailed and straightforward. “Your notes won’t be making any bestseller lists, but we’re getting somewhere, so I don’t mind if they’re a little dull.”
“Cute, but I was asking how you’re feeling.” He stood and stretched, taking a break from working on a time line to connect the thefts to his various talks. “How’s your knees and elbows?”
“Not bad. It’ll be the missionary position for me for a few days, though.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She grinned. It was so easy to rile that touchy male defensiveness, which made it hard to resist teasing him. “Just saying. You know you’re thinking about it.”
“Thinking and doing aren’t the same. I’m not about to take advantage of a woman in pain.”
“Why not? Most men seem to feel sex will cure everything.”
“I don’t know about cure, but it does tend to make everything better,” Vincent admitted, grinning.
Sometimes, for such a sharp man, he could be incredibly dense. “So you’re not gonna offer to kiss my boo-boos and make everything all better with your sex fu? ”
Vincent laughed, but the sudden gleam in his dark eyes told her he was finally getting the picture. “Sex fu is your territory. I’m just the guy who can’t resist a lady in distress. Give me your hand and I’ll help you up.”
The truth was, she hurt something awful. Deep scrapes like hers exposed nerve endings, and the pain had hunkered down into a constant ache that pounded and throbbed. Despite her best efforts, it was hard to con
centrate on little details, which pretty much described everything they’d been working on.
“Are we taking a break?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
“Seems like a good idea. We’ve got plenty to work on already.” He motioned at a neater pile of text and color photo prints. “I want to get that to the office. I’ll run the pictures and see if we can come up with an ID. I’m not expecting much, but we might get lucky. I also need to send the descriptions to the police so they can keep an eye out for our two suspects. I don’t think we’ll see either of them in my neighborhood again, now that they know we’re aware of them, but it won’t hurt to have a squad drive by now and then. I’m not sure there’s much else we can do here.”
Claudia knew he was right. “I have to get back to my hotel,” she said with a sigh. “The office should’ve delivered my itinerary and assignment details by now. I really do have to fly out to Texas tomorrow.”
He nodded in understanding. “I’ve got a trip coming up to Columbia, South Carolina, and I need to get to work on a few reports. This case may be personal now, and I need to get to the bottom of it because of that, but I also have a lot of other work piling up. I never seem to get ahead.” He hesitated. “When you’re done in Texas, will you be coming back here?”
“As soon as I can. I promise,” Claudia said, no longer in the mood to be dodgy about her need to be with him. What was the point? Maintaining a relationship like this would be hard enough; why pointlessly complicate things? “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but I can give you a call and let you know when I’ll be back. When are you heading out to Columbia?”
“Next Friday. I’ll probably be down there all week, preparing for a trial.”
“Ooh, fun.”
“Oh, yeah. I just love trials.” He hesitated again, brows pulling together, then said, “Hey . . . I’ve been thinking that maybe you shouldn’t go back to your hotel tonight.”
“Why? I’m not the one being stalked by a couple of crazy, cross-dressing chicks.”
Her Last Chance Page 15
