Picture this (Birds of a Feather Book 3)

by Lena North

  “Hawk,” I said and put my hand on his cheek.

  He tilted his head a little into my hand.

  “I know,” I whispered and moved my hand in a caress.

  He closed his eyes briefly and then he sighed.

  “Hate this,” he murmured.

  “I know,” I repeated. “Over soon, honey.”

  “Yeah,” he said and turned toward a crowd that was staring at us. “Go to hell,” he muttered sourly and walked over to help Miller off the floor.

  They said something, and then Miller twisted his shoulder around a little, made a face, and they started laughing. All was well again, I assumed, so my job was done.

  “You can’t button your pants?” Wilder asked quietly next to me, and since I hadn’t heard her coming, I jumped.

  “Not my favorite pair,” I replied.

  “Guess you’re really pregnant,” she said, and I stared at her. “You’re so tiny, and you don’t look pregnant,” she clarified.

  “Well I am,” I said.

  “You’re not sleeping well?” she asked.

  I felt a blush creep up my neck because I slept perfectly fine. When I slept.

  “Oh,” she said, and a grin spread on her face. “Go Miller,” she snorted.

  “Shut up,” I said, and she started laughing.

  Then Mac walked over to the men, and he had his phone in his hand. He made some kind of signal with his hand, and they straightened.

  It was time.

  Dante’s car was there when we got to the cluster of houses just outside Norton where the Johns’ lived. Sloane walked out of Hawker’s house as we parked and then we all went into Gilmore Johns’ huge living room, where Dante and Olly waited together with Magnus and Murielle Johns. I could hear Gilmore’s booming laughter as he played with his grandchildren outside, so I walked over to close the big patio doors. Magnus and Murielle’s oldest daughter Althea, Allie, waved at me and I waved back. She was running across the lawn toward her brother, and her long white hair was flying in the air. She looked exactly like Wilder except for the color of her eyes, and I smiled a little because if things had been different, my friend could have been doing that, I thought. If Wilder’s mother hadn’t met Paolo Fratinelli, she would have been raised partially in Norton, running like that on her long twelve-year-old legs toward her family.

  “Why are we here?” Murielle asked, and she didn’t sound happy. “I have things to –”

  “I have a few questions,” Hawker interrupted her, glanced at Dante and took a pile of papers from Olly.

  He glanced at the papers and stared through the window at the blue sky outside for a few seconds. I recognized the look on his face and knew he was communicating with his bird. The message he got couldn’t have been good because his brows went down and he turned abruptly toward his sister in law.

  “Who paid you to create forgeries of Willie Callaghan’s paintings?” he asked.

  “What?” Magnus said and took a step forward, but Hawker made a weird growling sound and pointed at him.

  “You’re my brother, Mags. If that means anything to you, then stand down and shut up.”

  Their eyes held for a second and then Magnus nodded, once.

  “Answer me,” Hawker said to Murielle.

  “I don’t know what you’re –”

  “Money was paid into your bank account. Huge amounts and the payments coincide with the thefts.”

  There was a long silence, and then she smiled.

  “You can’t prove anything,” she said.

  Magnus made a small sound, but collected himself and took a step away from his wife.

  “They probably could,” I said quietly. “Every artist leaves a trace of themselves in their paintings, you know that.”

  “Mary,” she sneered. “What a little expert you think you are, fresh out of University and running around the village drawing ugly cats and pigs.”

  Her words didn’t anger me or insult me. They made me sad, for her sake. She was so bitter, and the disappointment she so obviously felt for how her life had turned out was written all over her face.

  “Why did you do it?” Hawker cut in, and his voice was low, but there was a deep rumble in it that made Murielle’s eyes snap to his face.

  “I haven’t done anything illegal,” she said, although she’d started to sound just a little bit uncertain. “They asked me for copies of a few paintings, offered to pay very nicely, and I accepted.”

  “Who?” Hawker snapped.

  “I don’t know,” she snapped right back. “They told me which paintings, I did the copies, sent them off and got the money. Why would I care who it was?”

  There was a long silence in the room, and then Hawker turned to Dante. They looked at each other and Dante nodded which I thought meant that she was telling the truth. Hawker looked uncertain, but she could very well be honest, I thought and decided to get into the discussion.

  “I’m contacted a few times each year to make replicas,” I said, and there was a low murmur in the room. “Not illegally, and not by criminals. For insurance purposes.”

  “Is that so,” Murielle said haughtily.

  “Yes, it is,” I confirmed. “Some collectors want their work in a safe, so they want a replica on their wall because they still want to brag about owning the paintings.”

  I looked at her a long time, and then I turned to Hawker.

  “I get contacted via email, but I don’t know how they find me. I would guess through the Art department or one of the Museums.” Then I turned back to Murielle. “I always check their credentials, and if they can’t provide proof of ownership, I send the email to Prosper PD and the Art department, and forget about it. Even if they have proof of ownership, I rarely accept.”

  “Then you’re stupid,” she spat. “Poor trash like you, needing the money –”

  She stopped talking when Miller got in her face.

  “Shut up, Elle” he growled.

  “Miller, it’s okay,” I whispered and went on when both he and Murielle turned to me, “I might not have a lot of money, but I have dignity and self-respect. What you’ve done is actually illegal, but it’s also immoral, so I’m thinking you have neither.”

  She opened her mouth to say something but Hawker cut her off.

  “I told a joke a while back about Willy, about him having a girlfriend. Who did you share that joke with?”

  She looked at him, and her brows went up. Shit, I thought, either she’s a really good actress or she has no clue what he’s talking about.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Don’t act stupid,” he barked. “Roses are red, violets are blue… Willy having a little lady-love on the side?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and you shouldn’t expect me to. You tell a lot of things that you think are funny, and they never are. How do you expect me to remember all of them?”

  Dante cleared his throat again and made a gesture with his hand. Hawker’s brows went high up on his forehead, and he stared at the tall blond man in disbelief. Murielle didn’t know.

  “We were attacked on our way back from Thend. Who did you talk to about our trip?” Miller asked.

  “You think Murielle had something to do with –” Magnus said, turned to his wife and said hoarsely, “Elle, no, please?”

  “I don’t know what they are talking about,” Murielle said immediately. “You have to believe me, I would never betray them. Never.” She turned to the room in general and said weakly, “You have to believe me.”

  “I believe you,” Dante said quietly, and everyone turned to him.

  He held Hawker’s gaze and nodded slowly.

  “Someone knew about our trip,” Miller insisted, and added, “We didn’t discuss it outside this room, not the exact day.”

  Murielle’s eyes flitted to the side, and it was such a quick movement that I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t watched her
so carefully. I turned my head slowly and swallowed as I looked through the window at a happy grandfather playing with his laughing grandchildren.

  “Excuse me, can we sit down,” I said. “I need some water, can someone please get –”

  As I expected, everyone got worried about me, and Miller immediately led me over to the couches where we all sat down. Wilder ran into the kitchen, but I focused on Dante. I had been able to communicate with him deliberately once before when I had been in their house and pretended to sleep.

  “DANTE?” I thought.

  He started coughing, and Miller turned to him.

  “Need some water too,” Dante muttered and looked at me with a whisper of a smile in his eyes.

  I had apparently gotten through to him and in a way that had startled him.

  “Go and get water, Dante. Talk to Wilder. Tell her to bring the girl. Tell her to bring Althea inside,” I thought.

  His brows went up, but he didn’t question me, and left the room, coughing very credibly.

  “Are you okay?” Hawker asked me.

  “Yes,” I said calmly and took hold of Miller’s hand. “I was just looking at the kids outside, spinning around, and that made me dizzy.” Miller squeezed my hand, but I kept talking, holding Hawker’s gaze, “Children are so energetic, don’t you think? Sneaking around when they should be in bed, listening to grown-ups talking…”

  Miller’s grip on my hand turned to steel, and I knew that he remembered how Althea had heard us talking about going to Thend, and how Murielle had walked off to put her back in bed. Hawker understood too, but before anyone could say anything, Dante came back with two glasses of water, and Wilder walked through the patio doors with Althea.

  “Althea, not now,” Murielle said immediately.

  “Come here, Allie, my girl,” Hawker murmured, and the girl obeyed her uncle instead of her mother.

  “Uncle Hawk,” she giggled, and when he patted the coach next to him, she sat down, bouncing a little as she did.

  Hawker turned to his brother and sighed.

  “I’ll ask your girl a few questions if that’s okay with you?” he asked gently.

  “You don’t think –” Magnus started, but was cut off immediately.

  “I don’t know, brother. We need to make sure, though.”

  “Okay,” Magnus said, and when Murielle made a protesting sound, he turned to her and said again, “Okay.”

  His voice sounded more determined, and she leaned back with a sulking look on her face.

  “Who did you tell that Miller and Mary were going to Thend?” Hawker asked.

  She turned to him, and her face had a mutinous look suddenly.

  “I can’t tell you,” she replied.

  I felt like crying. This young girl had betrayed us.

  “Miller was nearly killed,” I whispered.

  “What?” she breathed.

  “Someone knew we were driving back and they were… trying to take our car,” I improvised. “Miller was shot twice, and it nearly killed him.”

  “Then it wasn’t because of me,” she said with certainty, looking relieved. “I only told my bird, and he would never do anything to harm any of the other bird owners.”

  “What?” Hawker exploded.

  “I have a bird, Uncle Hawk,” Allie said proudly, glancing at her mother and straightening her back. “I’m the one. I’m special.”

  “Impossible,” Wilder said quietly.

  “He said you would say that and that nobody has seen the bird you’re talking about. My bird says it doesn’t exist,” Allie said patiently. “You are lying about it, and I have been the one all the time.”

  There was a long silence, and then Murielle leaned forward.

  “It could be true,” she said. “We have never seen Wilder’s bird and if –”

  “Elle…” Hawker said, and his voice was just a soft whisper.

  Then he shook his head slowly, and she swallowed.

  “You’ve seen Wilder’s bird, Uncle Hawk?” Allie asked, and she sounded confused.

  “Many times, Allie girl,” he said gently.

  “What does it look like?”

  “It’s a hawk,” he replied.

  “It’s small and black,” Miller added.

  “The eyes are bright yellow, just like Wilder’s,” Mac said gently.

  Allie swallowed and looked around the room.

  “You’ve all seen it?” she asked.

  Everyone in the room except her parents nodded. I leaned down to my tote bag, pulled out my sketchpad and flicked the pages around. Then I turned it around to show the girl a picture I’d drawn of Wilder and her bird. It was just parts of their faces, and they were staring right back at me from the paper, calmly and defiantly.

  Allie stretched her hand out and touched the drawing. Then she straightened her back, and the mutinous look was back on her face.

  “But I have a bird too,” she insisted. “Something has changed because I do.”

  Hawker turned to look at Dante, but his face was blank, and he didn’t move.

  “What does your bird look like?” Wilder asked curiously.

  “It looks like a bird,” she replied. “He says it isn’t time for the big unveiling, though, and I am not allowed to share details yet.”

  “Okay,” Wilder said slowly. “What is the unveiling?” she asked curiously.

  “That’s when we let everyone know. Everyone who has a bird will be gathered, waiting for us to join them. First, my family will walk in, and everyone will clap their hands and cheer because they have a child with a bird. Then Strachlan and I will come out of the forest together and when we do, everyone will bow to us.”

  There was a stunned silence, and Dante cleared his throat.

  “That sounds like a lovely ceremony,” he said. His eyes were calm and kind, and he leaned forward. “Did your bird tell you about this ceremony?”

  She looked at him but didn’t reply.

  “Allie?” Hawker commanded. “Did the bird tell you?”

  She reared back, and there was suddenly an almost scared look on her face.

  “I can’t betray the bird. He says, when you have a bird you never betray it, and you never tell what the bird says. Not to anyone.” She swallowed, and added, “But I just did.”

  “It’s okay,” Miller said. “I’m sure he meant to outsiders, but we are insiders here, aren’t we?”

  “Maybe…” she said quietly.

  “Who’s Strachlan?” Wilder asked.

  She’d said that name, and I couldn’t recall anyone in the village called such a strange thing.

  “But it’s my bird, of course,” Allie said, with a confused smile. “That’s his name.”

  “Okay…” Wilder said, frowning a little. Then she sighed and smiled at her cousin. “Where do you meet him, this bird of yours? Is it a hawk like mine or an eagle like Dad’s?”

  “But I told you,” Allie said. “It isn’t time for the unveiling yet, so I haven’t seen him. He says he’s big and brown, so I think it’s an eagle, just like Uncle Hawk’s,” she added, and I thought there was a sly, condescending look in her eyes.

  “Huh,” Wilder muttered.

  They continued to ask questions and with only a little prompting, and some well phrased flatter, Allie told them all about how she met her bird in the forest behind the house. He’d started talking to her some time ago, and in the beginning, it had been just low murmurs, but she shared that they were having long conversations almost every week. It was because they would show themselves to everyone soon she said smugly, and with a look at her mother.

  I wondered how many times she’d heard Murielle talk about having a child with a bird.

  “What does he sound like?” Sloane asked. “I don’t have a bird, so I don’t know,” she added to clarify when Allie looked like she was about to protest.

  She looked mildly curious and leaned back, slowly stroking her belly. Th
e baby inside wouldn’t have a connection to a bird, though it didn’t seem to bother her, maybe because there were no restrictions on her abilities and her child would most likely be able to communicate with butterflies and dragonflies.

  “He sounds like you,” she said and pointed at Olly.

  “Me?”

  “Just like a man, but not an old man,” she flicked her eyes over to her uncle, but when he straightened and raised his brows at this innocent insult, she continued, “Soft voice, a little raspy, like he has a cold. I asked him, but he said –”

  She cut her off and looked down.

  “I can’t betray him,” she murmured.

  “That’s okay,” Dante said immediately. “I like loyalty.”

  She smiled at him, and he winked at her, which made her blush a little.

  “Can you do me a favor, though,” he murmured gently, and went on before she could reject it, “I really like Mary and Miller.”

  “Okay,” she said, although she spoke hesitantly so it sounded mostly like a question.

  “Can you just lean back and think through everything that has happened since you met, um, Strachlan. Go back to the first time he talked to you and think about everything you’ve talked about. You don’t have to tell us, but if you could just think about everything to see if there is anything you remember that can help us to figure out why they tried to take Miller’s car?”

  She looked at him and nodded. When the slim girl leaned back and turned her face toward the window, I quietly exhaled air I hadn’t been aware I’d held in my lungs.

  “You okay, baby?” Miller murmured and put an arm around my shoulders.

  “Yeah,” I replied, but I wasn’t.

  Murielle had transferred her bitterness and her ambitions to her daughter, and the young girl had been easy prey for someone. I had no doubt in my mind that there wasn’t a bird, and that a man had managed to fool the girl. It would hurt her when they told her, and I wasn’t sure if her unpleasant mother or weak father would be able to handle her grief and confusion.