Hidden Legacy (24 page)

“But of course,” she said mockingly, not bothering to lift her gaze from the crossword puzzle she worked.

He flashed her a look of pure hatred.

Within half an hour, he had his skins in place, he had changed, developed a plan, and a rental car waiting for him a few blocks down. He took a small black case from his duffel bag, stuffed it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Now all he needed was for
Special
Agent Vassilovich to play his part.

Willy smiled. But then what else could the bastard do? Willy knew just which string to tug, and what reaction he’d get.

“You’ll get a phone call,” he said. “Play along with whatever happens.”

When he got no answer, he thwacked the back of her head. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I heard you,” she said, rubbing her thin hair into a small rat’s nest. “Phone call. Play along.”

Tomorrow. He would lose her tomorrow—after she’d outgrown her usefulness.

“Where are you going?” she asked, finally deigning to look at him.

“Out.”

“How long will you be?”

“A while.”

Chapter 13

From the desk he’d taken over in Juliana’s workshop, Lucas contacted Detective Harrison Monroe of the Stamford Police Department, who reluctantly parted with the particulars of the Blackstone case.

“No one saw anything,” the detective insisted. Which wasn’t unusual where the Phantom was concerned. He had a knack of fitting into any crowd as if he belonged. “One minute the opal was in its display case, the next it was gone. The glass wasn’t broken. Too many fingerprints on the outside glass from gawking guests to make out. None on the inside.”

“Who discovered the opal was missing?”

“Mrs. Blackstone. Just after she’d seen the last guest out. The insurance policy covering the jewel is high, and we’re looking into that angle. Financial trouble with the family, host museum, etc.”

He doubted Mrs. Blackstone had planned to abduct her own jewelry, or that the museum wanted to make a quick buck from the insurance company. No, his gut led him straight to Willy. “I’ll need to see a list of the guests to this affair.”

“They’ve already been checked out.”

“I’m not doubting your ability, Detective,” Lucas said, keeping his voice calm. Soothing inter-agency ruffled feathers grated raw. And he was already frustrated to begin with. He ground his coffee cup in tight circles. “I’m trying to see if any bits of your puzzle fit in with mine.”

“Right,” Monroe said with an ill-disguised sneer.

“Fax me the list at…” He put a hand over the phone’s speaker. “Juliana, what’s your fax number?”

She gave it to him, and he passed it on to the detective. Five minutes later, the machine whirred to life and spewed out a list with nearly a hundred names on it. Lucas fed the names into an information database and requested a report of criminal histories and one of name/address cross reference. Doing so created a risk Regs would find out, but Lucas had nothing to lose. His career was already half-way down the toilet. This wasn’t going to matter one way or another.

Except for Regs’ threat toward Juliana, he reminded himself. He refilled his mug with coffee. Juliana wouldn’t be caught in the cross-fire. He would hide her, if necessary, until everything blew over. She and Briana would remain safe.

He intended to keep his promise.

He cast a glance at Juliana. She worked with industry and complete concentration. Several sketched views of her asymmetrical design for a ring that would have an alexandrite at its heart, hung on the wall above her workbench next to the ones she’d made of the Nadyenka Sapphire.

She looked like a cross between a mad scientist and a marble goddess as she measured, stirred, and poured a plaster mold. Safety goggles on a fine-boned face. What a sight! He smiled. A smudge of investment powder dirtied her cheek. Keeping his fingers from reaching out and whisking the white film away took a great deal more restraint than he’d thought.

Getting her to leave her job wouldn’t be easy. In the past few weeks, it had become obvious she loved what she did. She tended to avoid the retail side of her business, but made her work in the back look like play—a play in which she could totally immerse herself. Just as she’d done….

No, he didn’t want his thoughts to wander in that direction. He was having trouble enough keeping his thoughts focused as it was. Did she lose track of time the way he did while he was in the heat of a case? In her smile, he saw how her work energized her. Saw, too, how she used it as a distraction while she missed her daughter.

He’d find a way. There were more important things than jobs.

His mind drifted to Briana and her wonderful, warped sense of humor, to how easy her to laugh was. Her “then what happened?” when he made up stories for her fed something deep in him. He didn’t want to lose that, or the new intimacy he’d found with Juliana over the backgammon board.

Not even to save his own career.

While he waited for his reports, he scanned various police bulletins, available through the field office network. Half an hour later, he sat up straight.

The Lundberg, Massachusetts police held a man caught with dental picks and the homeowner’s schedule in his pockets. They’d charged Bert Link with trespass and possession of burglar tools. What had caught Lucas’s attention was that the homeowner worked as a gemologist.

He put a call through to arresting agency, and introduced himself. Chaos seemed to rule in the background.

“You’re calling about half an hour too late,” the officer informed him. “He was released on bail just before eleven.”

“Who bailed him out?”

“Let me see.” Keys clicked over the buzz of background voices. “A Mrs. Bert Link. She paid cash.”

That was no help. “What did she look like?”

“Listen, agent Vassilovich,” Kent Turner’s voice dripped with exasperation, “I’d love to help you, but we’ve had a busy morning here. There was an altercation at the high school and we’re sifting through half the senior class, teachers, parents. Faces have been pretty much a blur.”

From the top of his desk, Lucas picked out a photo of Cindy Marchand he’d copied from her employment file. “Skinny, short light brown hair, light brown eyes, small birthmark on her left temple, five four.”

“Could’ve been. I can’t say for sure. I didn’t handle the release paperwork. He’s scheduled for a hearing in two weeks.”

He’d never show up. “Bert Link was booked.”

“Of course.”

“Then you have fingerprints.” Anticipation shot adrenaline through him. That would be as close to the Phantom as they’d gotten. “And mugshots.”

“Of course.”

“DNA sample?”

“There was no grounds to gather any.”

“I’ll need copies.” The pictures might not mean anything, but the prints would.

“I’ll make a note.”

“Not tomorrow, today. Now.”

“We’re a tad busy at the moment.”

“The high school kids’ll still be there tomorrow. This guy won’t. Either you fax those prints and shots to me now,” he said in a voice that rang with authority. “Or I’ll have my boss call your chief.”

The officer swore, then relented.

“Ten minutes, officer Turner, then I make that call.”

“You’ll get them in five.”

And he did.

* * *

Cindy still shook as she downed the last of the diet Pepsi from her glass. This was it. She couldn’t take anymore. He’d gone over the limit this time. Asking her to pose as his wife to bail him out of jail! Never had she been so scared as when she’d walked into that police station, pretending she was someone else to post Will’s bail. She’d been sure they could see through her and would toss her in a cell right along with him.

She reached for the liter bottle in the middle of the table and poured another glass. The ice had barely had a chance to melt from the last glass and she was glad she wouldn’t have to get up to replenish it. Her knees had the substance of Jell-O.

Will plucked the mustache off his lip, peeled away the smooth tanned skin off his face to reveal a pallid, pasty complexion, and unremarkable features. Her stomach heaved. She swallowed down the acid, holding her shocked stomach with a fist.

How could he have fooled her so easily? She’d never noticed the skin he wore wasn’t his own, that his eyes weren’t really blue, but a cold metal gray, hadn’t known that the false bottom of his make-up case held envelopes filled with hundred dollar bills. Hadn’t even known the case was stuffed with cosmetics.

“You played your part well.” Will’s lips twitched into something she supposed was meant as a smile. “I don’t think they suspected a thing. Of course, they were a tad busy.”

His laughter made her shiver.

Never again
, she wanted to say, but couldn’t find her voice.

“I have to go,” he said.

“Again?” She clutched her glass tighter, and couldn’t understand why the thought frightened her so much. “Where?”

“Out.”

“No, Will. I can’t do this again.”

“There’s no danger of being caught this time,” he said, slathering his face with cold cream. “I want you to go to the grocery store and get us some supplies. I’ll leave a list.”

“Sure.” She poked a finger at an ice cube, watched it bounce in the dark, bubbly liquid. Agreeing was easier.

“When you get back, you’ll need to pack.”

She swallowed hard. “We’re moving?”

“I’m afraid we have to. I’m going to send our Special Agent on a wild goose chase. It’s best we’re not in the area.”

“I’m tired, Will.” Tired, and frightened, and broken. How could she have fallen for a man with no heart?

Because he’d charmed her, fed her dreams. And she’d been desperate enough to believe.

He’d
used
her.

She wanted to cry, but gulped down more soda instead. The last thing she needed was more ridicule from Will.

“You’ll get to rest soon. I promise.” But his smile didn’t bring reassurance.

Was this what she had to look forward to for the rest of her natural life? In her wildest imaginings, she’d never pictured being on the run. Oh, maybe for a short while, but not forever, certainly not on the wrong side of the law, and definitely not with a man like Will.

Crunching on an ice cube, she watched as Will applied new layers of skin, becoming yet another stranger. She shivered once more.

“I’ll be back by five,” he said as he stowed away the small case. He switched shirts, folding the dirty one, then putting it neatly in a compartment of his duffel bag. “Be sure you’re ready to go.”

“Of course, Will.”

She waited until she was certain he wouldn’t be back. Downing the rest of the soda in her glass, she got up, then checked the windows and headed for the small case.

She rubbed her damp hands on the leg of her jeans, undid the clasp, and lifted the cover. Carefully, she removed the bottles and jars until she found the false bottom. Among the envelopes, she found the card she remembered seeing earlier, and put everything back in its place.

Still crouched on the floor, she lifted the index card to her drumming heart and closed her eyes. “I’m a librarian, not a criminal. I can’t live like this.”

She lifted the phone off the hook. Her finger hovered over the buttons. Her heart beat so wildly, she couldn’t hear the dial tone. He would find out. Somehow he would. She put the phone back on the hook.

“Not here.” She grabbed her purse and her cardigan and headed for the door. Pausing by Bijou’s basket, looking at those sad, brown eyes, Cindy sighed. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

Scrunched at the phone booth at a nearby convenience store, Cindy placed her call.

“Lucas Vassilovich.” The voice came on strong and sure.

This was right. She wasn’t betraying Will—he’d already done that with his lies. He’d used her, and worse than that, she’d let him. She had to get her life back. If anyone could help her, this FBI agent could.

She cleared her throat, tried to find her voice. The butterflies in her stomach performed Olympic gymnastic routines. “Uh. Agent…Mr….” She growled her frustration. “This is Cindy Marchand. I need to talk to you.”