by D L Lane
All Danica could do was burst into tears and collapse to the floor, in a mound of undone woman.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Before
“Oooo, Danny-D, I love that navy blue off the shoulder two-piece cocktail dress you’ve got on!” J.J. squealed as she hugged Danica. “When you told me your flight had been delayed, I was worried you’d be late.”
With her arms around her best friend, they rocked from side to side. “Changing in the restroom at the airport was a ‘fun’ experience I’d rather not do again.”
After the two disentangled themselves, Danica grabbed the handle on her silver luggage, happy she had brought the one with wheels. It had been so much easier to maneuver through LAX. “I should stash this somewhere.”
“Your bag will be fine here in my office.”
“You sure you don’t want me to tuck it into your coat closet or something?”
“No.” J.J. beckoned with her fingers, the sequin décolletage of her dress sparkling in the light. “We need to head up front to the main part of the gallery. I’ll take you on a full tour later.”
“All right.”
“Tonight, all the art on display is up for grabs.”
“I can’t wait to see what’s up for auction.”
“Of course, you know all the proceeds made here will be going to wounded members of the armed forces or to those who were part of the many different branches of law enforcement, police, fireman, and so on.”
“I know. I’m so proud of you for organizing this event.”
Her friend smiled, then flipped a section of her strawberry blonde hair over her bare shoulder. “I hope you brought your wallet.”
“I’ve got Marcus’ Platinum card ready to swipe.”
~
“Danica, I see someone I need to speak with. Will you be okay on your own for a bit?” J.J. asked.
“Sure, hon. I’m just going to continue my browsing.”
“All right. I’ll catch back up in a few.”
Once Jillian flitted off, Danica rounded a section of the wall while listening to the hauntingly beautiful violin piece drifting through the gallery, her gaze bouncing over some lovely pastel paintings, a few desert landscapes…
As she moved on, she gasped, coming to a full stop in front of an 18-by-24-inch abstract. The arcs, lines, and shades formed motion.
Like a dancer!
Unable to pull herself away and ignoring those wandering around her, she stood captivated, studying the piece, her eyes lowering to the title. “Gravity.” Blinking, she shifted, catching the painting from a different angle, seeing the graceful bend of an arm, the shape of a leg, the swishing flow of white material. My dress. But it couldn’t be her when she danced to the song of the same title several years ago. No. It just wasn’t possible, it had to be some strange coincidence.
“Exquisite. Isn’t it?”
The sophisticated male voice with the slight Irish accent had her turning to see a distinguished man, perhaps in his fifties, with graying sideburns and a closely shorn goatee.
“It is. Yes.”
“The artist captured the movement of sensuality on canvas.”
“Do you know the artist?” Danica asked, hoping to meet them if they were in attendance.
“No. But I wish I did. I’m afraid this piece was donated anonymously.”
“Danica,” J.J. called, sashaying over, then placed a claiming palm on the gentleman’s lapel. “I need to introduce you two.” Her green eyes glanced up at the man who was smiling down at her bestie. “Collin, this is my best friend, Danica Lorry-Harding.” Jillian looked back to her. “Danny, this is Collin Amhurst, the gallery’s silent partner I’ve spoken to you about.”
Danica smiled and held out her hand. “I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mr. Amhurst.”
He took her offering, placing her hand between both of his warm palms. “The pleasure is all mine, my dear. But please, call me Collin.”
Serious gallery-goers, looky-loos, patrons of the arts, and servers with sparkling flutes of champagne swirled all around them. Everyone spoke in low tones, turning the space into a musical buzz of monotone sound.
The man let her hand go, then spoke to Jillian, “Your friend and I were just discussing the Gravity piece.”
“Oh, yes.” J.J. glanced at her. “Isn’t it something? It reminds me of you.”
“Her?” Collin asked with a raised brow.
“Yes. Danica used to dance,” Jillian said. “She and an old partner danced a contemporary piece to the song by Sara Bareilles with the same title. Collin, I wish you could have seen it. The two of them were something to watch up on that stage.”
“You no longer dance?” he asked, bringing his attention back to her.
Danica shook her head. “No. I stopped soon after I married.”
“Do you miss it?”
No one had ever asked her that before. “I guess I do.”
“Then, perhaps you should consider…”
Collin was still talking, but the broad back of someone weaving his way through the people bustling around them caught her eye, snagged her, and kept her on the edge of breathless.
“Excuse me,” she whispered absently, not bothering to consider her rudeness as she started in the direction of the black suit with a sheen that spoke of the high-end expense, bumping into someone she didn’t notice. “Sorry,” she muttered but kept going, waving off the server she didn’t look at who asked if she would like a glass of bubbly, her neck stretching to see, not stopping in her vision quest.
Part of her wanted to call out, make the man stop and turn around, find out for sure if it was him, but she had to be mistaken. After all, it had been a long time since the last she saw him, so she couldn’t be sure of his stride anymore, and she thought this man had a cane. Not to mention that, of all the places he could be at that moment, it wouldn’t be in Hollywood at an art gallery. If Deloris was correct, he should be with his parents, relocating. But…
Lips parted, ready to make a fool of herself if it wasn’t him, she focused on the way the light slashed over his big shoulder and shone off the back of his blue-black hair—the ends curling slightly over the collar. Then he went out those doors she was trying to get to before she could utter a sound.
Pushing past a few more people, she finally shoved open the door and stepped out onto the long span of gray sidewalk, the warm evening air bathing her as she looked right, then left.
As if the person were a ghost, he’d disappeared.
Shoulder’s falling, Danica stood there. The hum of passing traffic faded into the background, and the memories struck. His name filled her mind and tumbled past her lips in a low murmur of sorrowful lament, “Gage.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Come on, Danny, I’m going to start a hot bath for you,” Breck said, steering her by the arm into her bedroom.
“I don’t think that will help.”
“A long soak in the tub fixes a lot of things, sis.”
“It’s not going to fix me.”
“Do you want to tell me what happened today in Seattle, and why you were trashing your house?”
“Not right now.” Danica sniffed, every part of her body aching, her head fuzzed and hurting in a way she’d never experienced before. “Maybe I could just burrow under the sheets instead.”
“Bath first, burrow later.”
She didn’t have the will to argue. “All right. At least let me grab a robe. The one I usually leave in the bathroom is in the laundry.”
“Okay. You go snag one, and I’ll start the water. Do you want one cap or two of bubble bath?”
“Use two of the lavender. It makes more bubbles.”
Breck grinned. “Frothy goodness coming right up!”
Shuffling her feet along the floor, Danica went to her closet-cum-dressing room, opened the door, turned on the lights, and came to a complete stop. It took her a second for the scene to come into full focus, as if the connection from her eyes to her
brain was faulty.
Hand to mouth, she stumbled over to her jewelry cabinet with the drawers pulled open, but what took her immediate focus was the painting she’d won a few years ago, during the silent auction at Jillian’s Hollywood gallery. There, hanging above the tall piece of furniture, her beautiful artwork had been slashed into ribbons of limp canvas hanging off the bottom of the frame, some even turned into long strips of confetti scattered about on the carpet.
Several emotions walloped her at once. Disbelief, anger, fear, confusion, sadness, though as big fat tears rolled down her cheeks, it was that overwhelming sense of loss which seemed to be winning. While the painting wasn’t some priceless masterpiece, it was invaluable to her. But someone, whom she couldn’t even fathom a guess, had come into her home and destroyed it, turning it into tatters.
“Breckin!” she yelled, not waiting long until Breck came running in.
“What is it?”
Danica pointed. “Look!”
She knew the minute her sister took in the tableau. Breck sucked in a large breath, then bellowed, “Mason!”
~
Standing on his front porch, with his house keys poised in hand, Gage rolled his head along his stiff shoulders, his mind awhirl with so many things—Danny, what Marcus had done regarding their finances, the vandalism of a tree at their house, the vague, scattered memory of Wendell Gibbs saying he saw ‘someone’ watching her, but couldn’t come up with any real type of description other than baggy clothes, and tall. Then there was Cooper’s lurking mysterious person in black. All of it was somehow related, Gage knew it deep down in his gut, he just needed to connect the dots.
The muted sound of an electric guitar went off, so by the ringtone, it was Mason calling. Quickly, he unlocked the front door, stepped inside, tossed his keys on the table, pulled his cell out of his pocket, and tapped the icon for the speakerphone.
“Hey, brother. What’s up?”
“G…” There was something off about Mase’s voice, which put Gage on alert, not to mention the fast chatter of Breckin in the background melding into fussy babies.
“What’s wrong?”
“You need to come over to Danny’s. Something’s happened.”
Heart speeding up and beating against the cage of his ribs, he turned, plucked up his keys, then back out the door, saying, “What’s happened?” as he strode to his SUV.
“Someone’s been in her house. Destroyed a painting and took some of her jewelry.”
“Is she okay? Did you call it in? Didn’t her alarm system activate?” Gage hopped inside his vehicle and started it up.
“She’s…upset but physically fine. Yeah, I called—”
“Good. I’m on my way now.”
“The thing with the alarm, Danny doesn’t think she set it before she left for Seattle earlier. Or at least, she says she didn’t enter her code when she came in a while ago, but she can’t remember.”
“Did you check her security feed?” he asked as he tore out of his driveway.
“I went through the whole house, and there’s only one area that’s been disturbed. The security feed, though, well, that’s the thing.”
Another lousy feeling pummeled him. “What’s the thing?”
“All the outside cameras have been disabled. Danny doesn’t have any interior devices.”
“Disabled?” Gage repeated, trying to maintain his calm. “Shouldn’t something like that trigger the security company?”
“Yeah. I was going to call them next.”
“Hang tight. I’m only a few more minutes out. I want to be in on that conversation.”
“All right. See you in a few.”
After disconnecting with Mase, Gage put the pedal to the medal.
~
“I thought Mason said there was only one area of disturbance?” Gage asked Officer Stanley ten minutes later as he stood on Danica’s walkway, which looked like drunk movers had been at her place running amuck.
“Apparently,” Stanley said, “Danica did this.”
He glanced around. A white, wingback chair was tipped over, half in the shrubs, half on the sidewalk in front of the stoop. Different free weights were plopped all over like lawn darts. A medicine ball was by a small fountain. Workout towels were scattered everywhere, some hanging from the branches of the rose bushes. A black training bench was upside down, legs up in a flower bed…
“Danny did all of this?” Gage rubbed the side of his tense jaw.
“According to Mr. Miller, this is what he and his wife came upon when they arrived.”
“Gage?” Mason called, causing his attention to shoot to the open door his friend was standing in, backlit from the light as it shone out of the foyer. “Officer Davis isn’t having much luck with Danny.”
With that, he walked the gauntlet of her front walk, up the stairs, and into the house. “Where is she?”
“Look,” Mason said. “When Breck and I got here with the twins, she was in the midst of a breakdown, trying to get everything out of the home gym, and doing a good job of it by herself. Until she crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap. Breck put the babies in their playpen, then came back to help me with her sister. She finally convinced her to get up and take a bath, then… You’ll need to see for yourself. But my point is, she’s balled up in that chair in the family room again, and won’t speak.”
Gage nodded, that too-familiar tightness in his chest came back. “I’ll go, then I want to see what’s been disturbed in here by someone other than her, and after that, I’m calling about her disabled security feed.”
“I already made that call,” Stanley said, striding up. “It would seem that, when the first camera went down and didn’t come back online, the company, as per their protocol, called here. Someone, a female, answered the phone, saying they were Mrs. Harrison, gave the verbal code, then said she was having her contractor do some work around the house that required the cameras to be disturbed. Said she would be calling them later when the work was completed, to set up a time for the company to place the cameras in new positions.”
Gage’s brows pulled down. “Someone answered her phone and passed themselves off as her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Danica was obviously tearing things up here. Are you sure she didn’t speak with the security company?”
“‘No’ was the only word we got out of her when we inquired. Other than that, she’s been almost catatonic.”
“What time did that call from the security company happen?”
“Around eleven this morning.”
“All right, thank you.”
“Davis was going to dust for prints. I’ll go help him.”
Blowing out a breath, Gage nodded, then took note of the condition of the house as he made his way to the family room.
There, with only one small table lamp lit, Danica sat in the same spot he’d seen her the week before while holding her wedding picture, staring out the window.
“Danny?” he called, going to her.
This time, she responded by turning her head, meeting his gaze.
Those lifeless blue eyes, filled with tears, hit him like a wrecking ball. Bam!
“They took your earrings,” she said in a low voice, then her chin quivered.
“My earrings?”
“The blue art deco earrings you gave me for my sixteenth birthday.” The welling tears stopped threatening and flowed, streaking down her cheeks. “They’re gone.”
He went to her, intending to kneel by her chair. But Danica hopped up, surprising him, then lunged into his body, knocking him off balance for a moment. Gage righted himself, his arms going around her as she burrowed into him, shaking as she cried.
“I’m sorry, Danny,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ll find out who it was.”
“Why? Why would someone do that?”
“I don’t know, but I promise you, they won’t get away with hurting you.”
It was quiet for a long moment, all but for their breathing
and Danica’s almost silent crying, until she said. “They didn’t only just take your earrings, but…”
“What?”
She pulled back, looked up at him, and said as she swiped the moisture from her face, “Come see.”
Taking him by the hand, she led him from the family room, past Mason, who just watched with a scowl of concern on his brow, then to her bedroom. He couldn’t know for sure since this was the first time he’d been in there, but nothing appeared to be disturbed—until they walked into her colossal room of a closet and he saw Davis and Stanley. One was taking pictures, the other dusting for prints.
“Give us a moment, guys,” he said, the two of them doing what he asked, and leaving him and Danica alone.
“They did that,” she uttered, pointing to a painting, or what was left of it, but he knew. He knew what painting it was. “Out of all the things they could have done to this house, they struck at the two most important things here.”
Being sure not to touch anything, he stepped up, looked into the open drawers of her jewelry cabinet, seeing expensive pieces in there, which didn’t look at all like they’d been disrupted. And compared to the jewels on offer there, those earrings he bought for her back in the day wouldn’t be as pricy. So, why would someone take them and leave the rest? For that matter, why destroy his painting?
Whoever it is, he—she— knows these things are important to her.
“I’ll never get that painting back. It’s not a reproduction. It was an original, one of a kind.” Danny spoke as if it were a masterpiece, done by a famous artist.
“It wasn’t worth anything. Not monetarily anyway.”
“It was to me.” A crease formed on her brow. “Wait. How do you know what monetary value that painting held or didn’t?”
Gage locked his eyes with hers. “Because I’m the one who painted it.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Before
“I’m so happy you came by this morning,” Danica’s mother said in her sing-song voice, pulling the carafe from the coffee machine.
