“I have, and it was his idea for me to get a look at the Moreau. He’ll be joining me for dinner at the Bishops’ tomorrow night.”
London jumped up and down. “Oh my God. You’re bringing the cops to the place where Nikki is going to steal the painting right out from under their noses? I am so going to be there for this.”
“Aren’t you normally there?”
“Mostly, yeah. But now it’s can’t-miss!”
“So glad I could provide you with additional entertainment. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Mia let herself out of the loft, with London still squealing excitedly behind her.
While she stood outside waiting for her ride, she placed an order for food that she could pick up on the way to the apartment. Then she texted Logan. She hadn’t been in contact with him since she stepped out of his car last night, except for the gif he’d sent. The man had a thing for gifs.
Keaton invited us to dinner tomorrow night.
Us? You snagged me an invite? I feel special.
It was either tell him about you or be forced to sit through an entire meal with his son Chad.
Well, at least I’m better than Chad. I’ll take it. What time should I pick you up?
Dinner is at 7, so 6-6:15. Will that work with your schedule?
It’s fine. I’m looking forward to it.
She waited to see if he would say anything else, maybe send one of his silly gifs, but nothing came. Disappointment stabbed at her. Then she shook it loose. It’s silly to be disappointed that the man you are fake dating for information didn’t send a picture.
When she arrived at the apartment with dinner, she let herself in and found Audrey and Jared hovered over the computer. For a change, they weren’t touching and kissing and doing other adorable couple things.
“Dinner is served.” She set the bags of food on the table.
Jared looked up. “I’m trying not to be offended that you called Audrey to meet you here but said nothing to me.”
“First off, she’s always with you. Second, the things I need to discuss with them have to do with the actual heist, not the sale of the painting.”
“Ouch. Are you saying that I haven’t been pulling my weight in planning?”
“You know that I appreciate every bit of help you offer. I wasn’t thinking about your involvement, that’s all. It’s not as though I’m asking you to leave.”
“Is everything okay?” Audrey asked.
“Yes. Everything is going mostly according to plan. Just a bit quicker than I anticipated.”
“Oh no. Nikki’s gonna hate that.”
The door opened and Nikki and Wade came in.
“Nikki’s going to hate what?” Nikki asked. “Wade’s staying for dinner, all right?”
“That’s fine. I ordered plenty.”
They all took seats while Mia busied herself gathering plates and utensils from the kitchen. While there, she started a pot of coffee and grabbed a bottle of wine.
Nikki was already unboxing the Thai food while Jared scooped up the photos and plans they had spread out. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you haven’t answered the question.”
“I have an even more important question,” Wade interrupted. Pointing at the stack Jared held, he said, “Why do you have a picture of an FBI agent in your plan?”
“I knew it!” Nikki yelled as she jumped out of her chair. Then she spun. “Wait a minute. How do you know Logan’s FBI?”
“Ah, shit.” Wade sank to a chair.
“What is it?” Mia asked. Her heart sank. Hearing the truth of who Logan was jarred her. Knowledge that he had, in fact, been lying about who he was.
Wade pointed to the bottle of wine. “You might want to crack that open for this.”
Mia braced herself. They’d guessed that Logan was law enforcement. What difference did it make that he was FBI?
“I know he’s FBI because he came to Dodger’s—Nikki’s dad’s—apartment to ask some questions about the Devereaux heist.”
“Fuck,” Mia said as she sat. Everyone stared at her. “What?”
Audrey said, “You hardly ever swear, and you never say fuck.”
“She did that one time when she admitted she’d suck at being a thief,” Nikki pointed out.
“I choose to be professional with people I work with. I’m still human. And correct me if I’m wrong, but if he showed up to speak to Nikki’s father, he’s probably much closer to putting the pieces together than we thought.”
“Dodger wouldn’t have told him anything, would he?” Jared asked Wade.
Nikki and Wade both said “no” a little more forcefully than necessary.
Audrey wiped her hands on a napkin. “Did you get his last name? I could do some recon.”
“No,” Nikki said. “The more Mia knows about him, the greater the chance for a slipup.”
Mia ignored the food on the table and stood. “I agree. Does knowing he’s FBI change anything? Do we know what he does know?”
Wade leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Based on what Dodger said, it was a fishing expedition. Dodger admitted to stealing the painting. They’re suspicious about the forgery at the Carlisle but can’t figure out how to connect the forgery with Dodger’s arrest.”
“Then we’re good,” Nikki said.
“How so?” Mia asked.
“I ran the con at the museum, and I’m damn good at what I do.” Nikki gave her a don’t-doubt-me look. “When they go to the museum—which they will if they haven’t already—all they’re going to find is that a grad student named Alice Hyde interned for a few days and disappeared. Alice was with Roberta Wolcott when the switch was made and it was Roberta’s ID that was used. We went old school. No hacking, no trace.”
“What if they have security pictures of you?” Mia asked.
Nikki just laughed.
Wade patted Nikki’s leg. “That’s not really a concern. She was in disguise. She wore glasses that would cause glare to make facial recognition software useless. Besides, I’m sure there are a number of law enforcement agencies that have some version of a photo of her, yet she’s never been caught. It’s a dead end for them.”
“So we can move forward as planned,” Mia said.
“Cautiously,” Jared added.
Mia bit back a smirk. At any other time she would agree, and she was cautious in all areas of her life, but at this point caution was slipping through her fingers. “We’re going to take the Moreau from Bishop’s house tomorrow night.”
Audrey gasped. Jared’s jaw dropped, and he gave her a cold stare.
“Before you get all up in arms, I will be there at a dinner party under the guise of seeing the painting for a possible private sale.” That grabbed their attention. She laid out the situation and waited for their reactions.
Nikki gave her a round of applause, but Audrey was out of her chair and sitting at her computer mumbling to herself. Jared followed his girlfriend with a plate of food.
“I think I’ve successfully lured you to the dark side,” Nikki said with an evil grin.
“We’re not dark side anymore, babe, remember?” Wade said.
“Speak for yourself,” Nikki said to him and then turned to Mia. “So what’s the plan?”
“I have no idea. That’s why we’re here.”
“Okay. Audrey, you’re up. What do we know about the Bishop house?” Nikki stood and carried her plate of food over to the TV.
Jared rejoined Mia at the table. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Good or not, it’s what we have. If she can make the swap now, then we only have to worry about one painting at the auction house. If we pull this off, it takes the spotlight away from us and shines it on the men. The FBI will take a closer look at their dealings. It buys us time.”
“And Logan?”
“What about him?”
He lowered his voice, as if he wasn’t going to tell everything to Audrey later. “Your mother called mine to tell her about you having a new man in your life.”
Mia waved him off. “I had to cancel our weekly dinner and I didn’t want to lie to her. I told her it wasn’t serious.”
“We’re talking about you. You’ve avoided relationships since Derek. Any mention of a man in your life is a big deal to her.”
“It’s fine. I’ll handle my mother.” Whether she could handle Logan might be a different story. “Now, let’s develop a plan.”
* * *
Logan sat in the conference room where he and Stokes had set up shop for the investigation. He was still trying to draw lines between all these men and figure out what, if anything, it had to do with Dwayne Benson. Stokes came into the room and threw her jacket against a chair.
“No luck at the museum?”
She had gone to the museum yesterday and spoken with people, but the head curator, Roberta Wolcott, hadn’t been in. Stokes went back today to talk to her and check surveillance. “What a waste of a fucking day. I skipped lunch and worked straight through reviewing video footage.”
Logan reached into his coat pocket and tossed her a candy bar.
“You’re a lifesaver.” She tore into the wrapper and took a bite. “They have no record of any break-in. They have no idea how the forgery got in there. Dr. Wolcott was sure she had the original. The only suspicious thing is that they had a graduate intern arrive right after the Devereaux was donated. She was only supposed to be there two weeks. She made it less than one.”
Logan stood and went to the board they had set up with who they believed to be key players. “What do we have on her?”
“A name—Alice Hyde. A vague description of tall, pretty, blonde. Wears glasses.”
Logan waited. “Picture?”
“Nope. Conveniently, every shot of her she was either not facing the camera or there’s a glare covering her face.” She finished the candy and crumpled the wrapper.
“I’m guessing Alice is a bogus student.”
“You win the prize. Dr. Wolcott thought nothing of it when Alice didn’t show up for work. They go through a lot of interns and she said that Alice didn’t like one of the lab guys. It sounded fishy to me, so I had Wolcott call her contact at the University of Chicago. Sure enough, there was no record of Alice Hyde.” Stokes sank into one of the leather chairs and spun to face the board. “It doesn’t make sense. Why give the museum a fake?”
“Unless they didn’t.” He pointed to the picture of Troy Evans. “Troy hires someone to steal the Devereaux from Ingram. Troy gives the painting to the Carlisle. You said Alice showed up at the Carlisle after the Devereaux.” He wrote the name Alice on a piece of paper and stuck it to the board. “Alice swaps the original for the fake and gives it to Russo—Dodger—to give to Wolf.”
“So Dodger and Alice are in cahoots. But how does that tie in to everything else?”
“No fucking clue.” He returned to his chair and continued to stare at the board. Every time one piece fit, three new pieces scattered. He’d managed to stop himself from reaching out to Mia all day because he didn’t want to seem too eager, as an insurance agent or as a boyfriend.
While he and Stokes talked in circles to try to figure out the end game, his phone buzzed with a text from Mia. For a change, they’d caught a break. “We’re on for checking out the Moreau painting that’s supposed to go to auction.”
“You’re sure bringing Mia Benson of all people into this is a good idea?”
“She’s either already a part of it, or it can’t hurt. She knows these people. If her father is somehow behind this, I think she’d want to know.”
Logan’s gut rarely let him down, and his instincts told him that Mia wasn’t one of the bad guys.
Chapter Thirteen
Mia had stayed at the apartment far too late last night, and the brief dozing she did before coming to the museum was nowhere near enough sleep. After her morning meeting and sending a few emails, she told Jasmine not to disturb her, closed her office door, and lay down on the love seat. She’d never been one to nap, but she’d been sure exhaustion would take over. Of course, she had no such luck.
First, she ran through tonight’s plan over and over, making sure she knew every precise move. When she was satisfied she had it committed to memory, thoughts of Logan filled her head. The press of his body against hers while they danced. The low chuckle in her ear when he liked her snarky comments.
Regardless of how she played it with Jared or Nikki, she liked Logan. She knew she shouldn’t, but he was the first man in a long time who didn’t care about her last name. Even if he was feigning interest—and she didn’t think he was—she enjoyed the attention, the attraction, the banter.
She knew she couldn’t trust him, but she hadn’t censored her thoughts or words. She was being herself around him and it was freeing.
Giving up on the notion of sleep, she sat up and scrolled through her phone to the photo of the Hurley painting. She went to her computer and began a basic search on Camille Hurley. Hurley was an Irish artist who died not long after World War II. Her work was valuable. Mia looked at the clock. She didn’t have time to do a full search for every painting the woman did.
Then she had a brilliant thought. She picked up the phone and had Jasmine call Anya to her office.
While she waited for Anya, she printed a really crappy, grainy copy of the picture.
Anya knocked on the door and stuck her head in. “You wanted to see me?”
“Come in.” She waited for Anya to take a seat across from her desk. “I have a special assignment, if you’re interested.”
“For the Crime and Punishment exhibit?”
“No. This is more of a personal quest. You’d be doing me a favor. I just don’t have time to tackle this right now.”
“What is it?”
Mia briefly explained Logan’s story. “I don’t expect you to attempt to track the painting down, but if you could just take some time to find the name of the painting and any information about it, I would be grateful.”
Anya smiled. “So if I dig up some useful information, you’ll owe me one.”
“Yes, I would, but don’t get carried away.”
“I’ll have something for you by end of day tomorrow.”
“Don’t neglect your regular work for this. It’s not a rush.”
Anya rose. “Like I said, I’ll have something for you by tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” With that off her plate at least temporarily, Mia could turn her attention to other things. Although Logan hadn’t expected her to search for his family’s painting, she needed to know how much of what he said to her were lies. Just because she felt free and totally herself didn’t mean the same was true for him. He was playing a role.
So are you.
Mia went through the rest of her day on autopilot, answering questions and replying to emails all while staring at the clock. She planned to leave early, so she could go to the apartment, pick up a comm, and see the mistake in the forgery London created.
She packed her things, let Jasmine know she could be reached by text, but she would prefer not to be bothered, and left. She arrived at the apartment, where Nikki was running London through the plan.
“Unfortunately, we have to go in fast, even though I won’t have full cover of darkness.”
“I’m sorry,” Mia said. “He wanted a dinner party, and I thought it might be a tad suspicious to ask for a ten o’clock dinner.”
“Not your fault. It is what it is.” Nikki pointed at the sketch she’d created. “I scoped out the area earlier today. The neighbor has a huge lot filled with willows. Plenty of shadows.”
“Are you sure the Bishops don’t have security cameras all over?” Audrey ask
ed.
“Just the camera in their doorbell. Unless they’ve done some kind of upgrade since I was there last.” Mia set her bag on a chair and listened to Nikki go through the plan.
“When Mia gets there, she’s going to go through and unlock as many windows as she can—first floor, second floor—whatever she can access without raising suspicion.”
“But not in the room where the Moreau painting is. That room will remain locked. Just in case.”
“While she’s doing that, I’ll skulk around in the shadows waiting for her signal. Then, I’ll either go in through this den—” she pointed at the paper “—or, if they’re having their hoity-toity predinner drinks in there, I’ll scale the wall and go in upstairs.”
“What happens if he has an alarm on the painting itself?” Mia asked. “We haven’t planned for that.”
“Maybe you haven’t planned for it, but I have a bag of tricks. I’ll just bring them all.”
The front door opened and Audrey joined them.
Nikki smiled. “And one of my favorite tools will be on hand if something needs to be hacked.”
“I am not a tool,” Audrey said.
“I meant it in the best way.” Nikki blew her a kiss.
“When dinner is over, and we’ve done adequate small talk, I’ll ask to see the painting.”
London flipped a canvas up to reveal the painting and laid the forgery on the table. They all huddled around it.
“Damn. It’s even uglier in person,” Nikki said.
“He just has this hanging in his house?” Audrey asked. “Why would his wife be okay with that?”
“Sheila is a lovely woman,” Mia answered, “but she’s spent most of her life being a dutiful wife. I doubt she’s ever disagreed with Keaton.”
Mia studied the painting. The shape, colors, and even the brushstrokes were dead on. It was a damn good forgery. But then she saw it—a weird blend of green and brown near the bottom, and a random daisy on the edge of the man’s pocket. It was small and from a distance, it would barely be noticeable. In some light, it might even just appear to be a glare, but it was obvious enough for her to call it out as a fake. “This is amazing, London.”
To Catch a Thief--A High Stakes Romantic Suspense Page 13
