“Yes,” Christian replied. “I have everything we need right here, but Mommy won’t let me go up to the top alone.” He raised the toolbox in victory. “But now we can bang that board down so I can go to the very top of the pirate ship. Will you help me?”
Liam didn’t hesitate, reaching down and scooping Christian up in his big arms, practically throwing him over his shoulder. Christian let out a high-pitched squeal, and Jag barked to get in on the action.
“I will help you do anything you want,” Liam promised, scooting him higher and getting the expected shriek in response. “As long as this beautiful woman…” He reached his free hand to take Andi’s. “Comes along for the ride.”
Andi smiled at him, almost unable to handle the swell of joy in her heart, the boxes and the past and the task upstairs forgotten.
“Anywhere,” she whispered.
Then the three of them headed over to the square…just like a family.
* * *
The next afternoon, Darcy stuck her head in Liam’s office, pulling him from some paperwork. “Yeah, what’s up, Darce?”
“There’s a detective from Virginia in the reception area asking to see you. With his dog.”
“I don’t have any appointments,” he said, checking the clock on his desk. He had less than forty minutes to get Christian from after-school care and bring him to Waterford, like he’d promised Andi. He had Jag here at Waterford because Andi was going straight from work to her Vestal Valley classroom early for her Tuesday night class. “Is he a drop-in looking for K-9 training?”
She shrugged and glanced at a card in her hand. “Detective Paul Batista, Charlottesville PD.”
Liam was up instantly. “He came in person?” Liam had talked to Paul briefly last week, asking for anything he had on the Scott family that might help Andi’s case and planned to follow up in a day or two. “Of course I want to see him. And he has Hawk with him?”
His schedule momentarily forgotten, Liam rounded his desk and thanked his sister, heading out to the front of the small office building. “Paul!” He greeted the short, stocky man with a combo handshake and hug, getting one in return.
“How are you, Liam?” the other man asked, his dark eyes gleaming and warm smile in place.
“Fantastic,” he said, meaning it for the first time in years. “And how’s this hound of yours?”
Hawk stood at perfect attention, a glorious Malinois with nothing but heart. Liam had trained Paul and Hawk about two years ago, and the men shared an instant friendship and bond over the dog. That bond was why Liam had felt so comfortable digging around for information on a family in Paul’s community, but he’d never expected an in-person response.
“I thought you’d call if you had anything to tell me,” Liam said after he gave Hawk some affection and a treat.
“I had a few days off and really wanted to come and see Waterford again. Training Hawk here was so great. And…” He lifted his brow. “We might be in the market for another dog for the department. Any good trainees for possible sale?”
“Fritz,” he said instantly. “I do have a good dog for you. I don’t have a ton of time today, but—”
Paul waved it off. “I’m in town for a few days, but I really wanted to talk in person about the subject you mentioned.” He lifted his brows to indicate he wanted confidentiality, despite the empty reception area.
“Come on back.” Liam gestured toward his office. “You want to bring Hawk or let him chill in the training area?”
“He never leaves me,” Paul said on a laugh. “Just like you trained him.”
“Good boy.” Liam gave the dog a scratch and took them back to his small office, offering coffee, which Paul turned down.
“So, what’s up with this Scott family?” Liam asked as he sat at his desk and Paul settled in the lone guest chair.
“Nothing on the family, Liam. Nadine and Jefferson Senior are both deceased. Their house, which is huge, sits empty, and the sister, Nora? No idea where she is.”
Liam knew where she was, or at least where she’d been lately. But he just looked at Paul, sensing there was more to the story.
“It’s this Jeff Scott, the son, who has the interesting background.”
Liam inched back in surprise. “He’s dead.”
Paul nodded slowly. “And that case remains open.”
“What case? He drove off an icy road in the mountains two years ago.”
“And a witness saw another car cause the accident, but that other car has never been found.”
“Hit-and-run?” Liam guessed. Paul gave his head a grim shake, and Liam exhaled. “He was murdered?”
“No one knows, but it hasn’t yet been ruled an accident. His body burned so badly forensics was damn near impossible, though he was ID’d by next of kin. I talked to the sheriff in Wytheville, where the accident happened, and they’re still looking for a navy blue Chevy pickup that someone saw at the scene, but that someone…” He pulled out a small notebook. “Joseph Higgins, was shot and killed, with no leads in his death.”
A cold sweat tingled at Liam’s neck. “So someone killed Jeff and then killed a witness?” He could barely say the words as he tried to imagine how Andi would take this news. Not well. “Any suspects? Motive?”
“Some of both,” Paul said, flipping through his book. “Which brings me to Interpol.”
“Interpol?” He leaned over the desk. “Why the hell would European law enforcement be involved?”
“Because Mr. Scott was suspected of being involved with some pretty shady characters over there, possibly involved with the sale of antiquities on the black market. They were close to bringing down one German art theft ring in particular, but it split up and went underground three years ago. Jeff Scott had disappeared off the face of the continent and stayed off the radar until he was killed two years ago.”
Disappeared and reappeared in Bitter Bark, North Carolina, claiming to want to be a father again, using his ex for a safe place to hide.
Bile and fury rose in Liam’s throat when he thought about the scum being anywhere near Andi and Christian.
“Is that art crime investigation still open?” Liam asked.
“Definitely. They arrested a few people and I can tell you those individuals had some not-so-nice things to say about Jeff Scott. He might have tried to cheat the wrong people out of money, which could mean someone from that ring closed on Scott, found him, and…” Paul lifted a shoulder. “Got rid of him.”
“So you think that’s who might have killed him? People who were involved with art crimes in Germany?”
“That would be my guess. So, now I’m helping on this open case and you have information. Can I interview you on the record and the woman you said he was involved with?”
Liam swallowed. “I married that woman on Saturday.”
“Oh.” Dark eyebrows rose. “Well, congratulations.” He didn’t sound entirely enthusiastic, but Liam ignored it.
“Why wouldn’t the authorities have already talked to her?” Liam asked. “She has no idea that Jeff’s death wasn’t an accident or that he was involved in art crimes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “Jeff’s the father of her six-year-old son. But this will all be news to her.”
“And she’ll be news to them. No one in Interpol and, my guess would be the thieves either, know that this woman exists or that Scott had a kid. So now the authorities will very much want to talk to her.”
Liam nodded. “I’m sure she’ll help.” After she came to terms with this mind-blowing news. “As I mentioned, his family is trying to get custody of her son, who’s inherited a trust fund worth six million dollars.”
Paul’s eyes flickered, the way a really good law enforcement officer silently said, Oh, is that so? without giving away too much. “Well, I assume since you know her well enough to marry her that you would know if she’d been party to—”
“Party to?” Liam’s voice t
ightened. “She’s not party to anything.”
“How long have you known her, Liam?”
“Three years.”
He frowned, the math not adding up. “So you must have known the dead guy.”
“I met him in passing, yeah. I was seeing her before he came back from Europe.”
“And again, after he died.” Paul’s statement was direct enough to put Liam on edge.
“We’ve only been together…briefly.” Liam shifted in his seat. “Kind of had a, well, surprise wedding on Saturday.”
Paul tried, and failed, to hide his amusement. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a surprise wedding.”
Son of a bitch. “Paul, it started as me helping her out. With this custody battle, she was under the microscope for her mothering, which, by the way, is flawless, so we thought if we got married, it would…” His voice faded as Paul’s expression shifted from amused to, well, not amused.
“So she married you to fend off a custody battle?”
He made it sound so heartless and cold when it was anything but. Liam looked away to gather his thoughts, but his gaze landed on the clock. Damn. He was going to be late to pick up Christian.
“Paul, I gotta go. But I really do want to talk to you, and I know Andi will, too. Tomorrow?”
Paul nodded slowly, clearly not thrilled with that, but too good of a friend to go bad cop on him.
“How well do you know her, Liam?” he asked as he quietly closed his notebook.
Intimately. Completely. Inside and out. At least…for the last week. “Well enough to know she is completely in the dark and will help you in any way possible. Well enough to know that learning her ex might have been murdered will upset her so much, I’d like to break it to her gently.”
Paul nodded slowly, getting up. “Oh, and one last thing.”
Good God, what now? “Yeah?”
“Have you ever seen anything that looks like this in her house? Or your house? Wherever she lives since you, uh, got married.”
Liam ignored the subtle dig and looked at a small pencil and watercolor sketch of a brown and gold box with a strange triangular top. “No, I…”
Wait a second. He’d seen it that morning. He’d gone into her office where he’d left some shirts hanging in the closet and noticed the bizarre-looking box on a shelf above her drafting table, certain he’d never seen it before.
“Yes?” Paul urged, obviously sensing his hesitation.
“I’m not sure,” he said, clinging to the fact that he really wasn’t sure. It might have been the same box…or not. “What is it?”
“Priceless,” Paul answered. “It has never been photographed and may or may not actually exist. But one of the suspects who’s been arrested in Germany claims he was with Scott when this was found during some restoration construction, and then the box and Jeff Scott disappeared days later.”
“Maybe he worked out a deal with this ring of thieves.”
“Or maybe he didn’t. Which might be why he dropped off the face of the earth.” Paul added a wry smile. “Literally.”
Liam’s heart kicked harder, but he wasn’t willing to say a thing until he talked to Andi, who, he had no doubt, hadn’t known about Jeff’s troubles. “Well, I gotta go get Christian.”
“Her kid?” Paul asked.
Irritation he’d never expected to feel toward this man skittered up his spine when it was obvious he thought Andi was somehow involved. “My stepson,” he answered, ushering Paul out before he could ask another question.
He got Jag, piled him into the truck, and broke a few speed limits on the way to Christian’s school.
But he didn’t call Andi. Telling her this was something that had to be done in person.
Chapter Twenty-one
The third-floor library at Vestal Valley College was devoid of both people and the answers Andi had been looking for since her first Google search revealed nothing quite like the box she’d found.
Tucked into a corner study carrel, Andi dropped her head into her hands, staring at the image in the textbook and the picture she’d taken that morning of the box. They did not match. Maybe created by the same artist or at the same general time in history, but none of the reliquaries from that cathedral matched the one she had at home.
Surely that was a replica or poor man’s attempt at a reliquary, worth nothing.
But if it wasn’t? Several of these types of boxes had been stolen, found, and replaced over the last ten years—at least that’s what she was getting out of German articles she’d read, relying on a questionable online translation. There were rumors of missing reliquaries that had been hidden behind stones in the church, lost for centuries, but nothing definite and nothing that looked like what Jeff had hidden away.
Still, the possibility that the reliquary might be real had started to torment her, the feeling deepening with the hours of research she’d done. If that was a real box meant to hold a holy relic, then she had to get it back to its rightful owner, even though she’d opened it that morning when she took pictures and found nothing inside but a nest of empty velvet.
The tiny desk was covered with books she’d pulled from the architecture section, printouts she’d made about the Cathedral of Trier, and a few dozen articles that confirmed what she’d learned way back when she’d done that paper on the famous church.
Trier had had multiple reliquaries over the centuries, holding a range of items the church claimed as holy relics. Pieces of the apostles’ clothing, a holy nail from the cross, a thorn from the crown, a ring believed to have belonged to Saint Peter. Some had been debunked and proven by testing to be fake, as she’d written about in her graduate-school paper. Others had been moved to other churches, and some had been hidden somewhere in the bowels of the cathedral.
Some had been stolen and were now in the collections of people who had the money to pay for such treasures and hide them from the world.
She heard footsteps out in the stacks, reminding her that she still had a class to teach in an hour. She couldn’t waste time. Something had to be here.
Flipping open another textbook with pictures from Trier, she turned the pages slowly, scanning words and images for a clue.
“Where’s the nail, Andi?”
She shot up in shock at the man’s voice behind her, but was instantly pinned by two powerful arms that held her shoulders. In front of her face, he smacked the reliquary onto her desk, hard enough to make the top wobble. “Where’s the damn nail that was inside here?”
For a moment, a long, impossible, insane moment, she simply couldn’t breathe. Her head almost exploded with a mix of shock and fear and the sense that everything was wrong. The world had tilted. The sky had fallen. The bottom of life dropped out from under her.
Jefferson John Scott was alive and holding her to a chair from behind.
“Jeff?” she croaked the word.
“Where did you put the nail, Andi?”
“I didn’t…I don’t…you’re alive?”
His breath was warm, coming down on top of her head. She wanted to move, to drop her head back and look up or spin the chair around and face him, but it would be like looking at a ghost.
“I’m sure as hell not dead.”
She closed her eyes and tried to process anything that made sense, but nothing did.
“I…thought you were.”
“That’s what we wanted,” he said gruffly. “That’s why Nora and I went to great lengths to make it appear that I died. So the people who wanted that nail, and me, would not follow the trail to you. You can thank me for that.”
Thank him? She’d mourned him. And so had Christian. “How could you?” she managed to ask.
“I had no choice. They would have found me sooner rather than later. Where’s the nail, Andi? I know for a damn fact that you hadn’t touched that box until yesterday, so you haven’t had time to get it to anyone who can verify its authenticity.”
She tried to shake her head, but he bracketed her with thick
biceps. He’d never been muscular, but there was no mistaking his voice. Or his hands. This was Jeff.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve been in and out of the house twenty-five times in the past two years, always making sure you hadn’t touched it.”
She sucked in a shocked breath, horror ricocheting through her. “What? You’ve been in my house?”
“I had to make sure you didn’t do anything with it. But then a few weeks ago, I decided it was finally time to move it from its safe place. But that day you came home early.”
The day she’d found the back door open and nothing missing. “You were there?”
“I hid in the front hall closet until you went into the kitchen. You really should change your back lock, too.”
When only a dead man had a key?
“While you were fussing about that, I walked right out the front door.”
A lock she had changed after she found it open. She shuddered under him.
“Then you went and got that damn dog, and I had to wait for a time when it wasn’t there.”
“Wednesday night,” she muttered.
She felt him nod. “Nora tried to keep you outside as long as she could, since it was the first time that damn hund wasn’t in the house.” The use of the German word for dog sent another shiver through her, as if he shouldn’t know any words that Jag could understand. “I got stuck on the damn patio when you got home but managed to climb the wall, which made Rin Tin Tin bark like a blood hound.”
That was him on the patio making Jag crazy that night. Jeff. On her patio. While she almost made love to Liam. She literally couldn’t breathe.
“Then I couldn’t get back in there until today, when, lo and behold, I found this on the shelf.” He slapped a hand on the reliquary. “Empty. Back to my original question. Where is the nail, Andi?”
“It was empty.”
“It was in there.” He squeezed her neck with those thick muscles, a feeling of desperation transferring from him to her and back. “The holy nail. The nail from the cross. The nail that is worth a lot of money to some very rich people. The nail I risked my life to get out of Europe. Someone must have taken the nail.”
Leader of the Pack (The Dogfather Book 3) Page 22
