Fatal Cover-Up. Lisa Harris
talked on his phone while pacing in her living room. There was something surprisingly calming about his presence. But the reality was that he was a complete stranger, and the captain’s call had only managed to erase some of her doubts concerning the FBI agent. And yet somehow Joe Bryant was still managing to take the edge off her panic.
She closed her eyes, unable to get rid of the constant flood of memories. Not long after Thomas’s death, the chief had given her a box of his personal things. At the time, she’d felt too betrayed to do anything more than glance through the belongings before she got rid of most of what was inside. Thankfully, a friend of hers had advised her not throw away everything that reminded her of him, just because of her strong feelings of betrayal. She’d gone with the advice and had kept a few things, which she’d transferred to a smaller container then mailed the rest in a box to her mother-in-law in Venice.
And then she’d done her best to forget about it. Until now.
She glanced around the small apartment. There was really only one place it could be. She found the small, nondescript box under her bed behind a suitcase.
She lifted off the lid and felt a rush of emotion sweep through her. On the top was their wedding invitation, a black card with white-and-teal print. Beneath that were photos from their honeymoon to Ireland, the watch she’d given him for their first anniversary and their wedding rings. And along with these symbols were everything she’d thought they’d promised each other.
For better, for worse.
For richer, for poorer.
To love and to cherish.
Till death do us part.
She’d worked to put her past behind her, but now everything she’d tried to forget had risen to the surface, making her wonder if she was ever going to be truly free. She dug through the rest of the box until she touched the thin sheet of tissue paper in the very bottom. There were no postcards. No paintings.
“Talia?”
Joe’s voice broke into her thoughts and pulled her back into the present.
“I just got off the phone with a friend of mine in Dallas. He’s sending out a patrol call to your sister’s house right now and promised to tell me as soon as they find her.”
She set down the box next to her, hoping it was going to be enough to keep her sister safe. “Thank you.”
“I also called a contact of mine here in Italy. He’s with the Italian version of the FBI’s art crime team, the Carabinieri art squad.”
“I think I’ve heard of them.”
“They deal with art theft, damage to monuments and archaeological zones. Anyway, he’s promised to help look into the case and see if he might be able to track down our hooded thief.”
“He’s here in Rome?” she asked.
“He has an office here, but he’s currently at an archeological site, doing some monitoring. He’s promised to see what he can find out.” Joe glanced at the box sitting next to her. “What are you doing now?”
“Looking through the few things I kept after Thomas’s death. The paintings aren’t here.”
Which meant they had to be in Venice.
She stood, then grabbed a backpack from her closet and started packing. She couldn’t stay here anyway. Not when they knew where she lived. She could take a train north to Venice. Her mother-in-law might be somewhere basking in the beauty of Scandinavia but Thomas’s brother had a key and would let her in.
“Wait a minute,” Joe said. “What are you doing?”
“I can get a key to my in-law’s house from Thomas’s brother. If the paintings are there, I should be able to find them.”
“In Venice?”
She nodded.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
She dropped a pair of comfy flats into the bag. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. Your husband was more than likely killed over these paintings, and now both you and your sister have been threatened. You need me.”
“Okay,” she said, surprised at how relieved she felt at his offer. She might not trust him completely, but as far as she knew he was on her side. “I’ve got a Metro pass. We can take the subway to the main train station and be in Venice later tonight.”
“I’ll need to grab a few things from my hotel on the way,” he said, “but that won’t take long.”
She nodded, the lingering anxiety still twisting in her gut.
She filled up the rest of the backpack with a couple of changes of clothes. They could be in Venice in a few hours, then all she had to do was find the artwork, and all of this would be over.
Joe checked his phone again as Talia grabbed clothes out of a dresser drawer, wondering if he’d just made the right decision. No messages. He probably should have insisted she stay and let him head to Venice and see if he could find the paintings on his own. He could easily call in for backup from either the FBI or someone from the local law enforcement right here in Rome. Someone who could stay with her and ensure her safety somewhere off the grid, where she couldn’t be found.
But there were two things that stopped him from making that suggestion. One, she knew far better than he did where to look for the paintings, which meant they would probably find them much faster together than if he was searching on his own. And with the clock ticking in this situation, he didn’t have the luxury of time on his side. And two, going together to Venice meant he’d be able to keep an eye on her himself. Besides, from what he’d learned about her from their brief time together, he had a feeling she never would have agreed to stay put here in Rome and do nothing.
Which meant all he could do was pray he’d made the right decision. He glanced at her as she dropped her passport into her bag and caught the determined set of her chin. He was right about one thing—she wouldn’t have stayed here in Rome no matter how he tried to convince her. This situation might be personal for him, but it was personal to her, as well. And the bottom line was he’d rather be the one looking out for her than someone he didn’t know.
“Any messages yet?” She swung her backpack over her shoulder and let out a deep breath.
“Nothing yet,” he said. “But we’ll hear from them soon. I promise.”
“Okay. Then I think I’m ready.”
He hesitated in the doorway and caught her gaze. “We’re going to find those paintings, Talia, along with whoever’s behind this.”
“I hope so.”
They headed out of her apartment and down the narrow staircase leading back down to the first floor of her building. He’d caught the worry along with doubt in her voice, and understood that feeling. He knew what it was like to lose a sibling, and he was going to do everything in his power to keep both her and her sister safe.
Which he would. The Dallas police department would watch out for Shelby, and he’d keep track of Talia. Because seriously, how much trouble could she get into riding the train north to the century-old city? They’d arrive in Venice, make contact with her brother-in-law, then search for the paintings. And if all went well, they’d find what they were looking for.
He had local Italian law enforcement looking for the man who’d broken into her apartment. Once they found and interrogated him, they’d find out who was behind this. And he’d be able to close the case. Simple. And once they discovered all the players in this, he’d have the answers he needed to know who’d murdered his brother.
As long as they did it all within seventy-two hours.