Cross & Crown (11 page)

Fear settled in JD’s eyes in a way Nick felt almost guilty for. He’d been coddling the man, wanting him to feel safe, but someone had tried to put a second bullet in him today. It was time to take off the gloves.

JD’s jaw hardened, though, and he nodded. “Whatever you need from me.”

“I’m going to give you three subjects, okay, and you tell me off the top of your head what they have to do with each other.”

JD’s brow furrowed, but he nodded anyway.

Nick held up his hand and counted off. “American Revolution. Ireland. Stolen goods.”

JD opened his mouth like he was going to respond, then shut it again, staring off over Nick’s shoulder with a scowl. He opened his mouth again, leaning forward, then sat back and frowned harder. “The Continental payroll gold.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Yeah. The Continental payroll! There was a redcoat lieutenant during the war. The legend is that he and his men intercepted a Continental Army payroll delivery somewhere. Took off with a wagon full of gold bars as it sat at a roadside inn.”

Nick ran a finger over one eyebrow, trying not to look skeptical, or worse, annoyed. He was writing all of it down anyway. “Okay. Go on.”

“That’s… that’s all I know. The gold was never recovered.”

Nick stared at him for a few seconds, and Hagan returned and flopped into his seat, looking between them silently.

“Okay,” Nick said patiently. “What does a missing Continental Army payroll have to do with Ireland?”

“The lieutenant was later revealed to be a supporter of Ireland. He was involved in the Irish Rebellion of 1798.”

“What are we talking about now?” Hagan asked.

Nick sighed heavily. “I told him to give me a connection between all our threads. Revolutionary War objects, Irish thugs, and stealing shit.”

Hagan placed a fresh cup of coffee by Nick’s elbow. He pointed at JD. “You can’t remember your own name, but you can recite facts about the fucking Irish Rebellion of seventeen whatever it was?”

JD shrugged one shoulder, looking a little perturbed. “At least I can remember he doesn’t like coffee,” he said with a jab of his finger at Nick.

“Ha!” Nick barked.

“Friendly fire,” Hagan said. He put on a fake Irish accent. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

Nick fired up his computer. “We’ll just Google this bitch.” A few moments later he’d brought up a search page for the British lieutenant’s name. Almost every result was about the lost Revolutionary War treasure. Nick clicked the first one.

JD moved his chair so he could see the screen too. It was a chat board for amateur treasure seekers, with each post offering theories on where the gold had gone, stories about
the poster having gone searching for it somewhere, and the occasional person telling everyone else they were stupid.

“See?” JD said. He pointed at one of the posts. “Right here in Boston.”

Nick looked sideways at him, studying his profile while JD’s attention was elsewhere. It was hard to forget the many warnings that had popped up about JD’s authenticity, including the one from Kelly, but Nick hadn’t felt like he was being lied to once. The man struck him as genuine.

Kelly cleared his throat as he approached the desk. Nick looked up at him, still scowling thoughtfully.

“Everything okay?” Kelly asked carefully.

“You know our treasure hunter theory?” Nick asked, wincing at their private joke. Kelly nodded. “We might have been a little too on the nose.”

“What are you talking about?” Kelly craned his neck to see the computer. Nick watched his changeable eyes as they darted over the screen, scanning the posts. “Stolen Continental payroll?”

“They were paid in gold bars and coins,” JD provided.

“Meaning if it was hidden somewhere and left there, it’s worth millions today,” Kelly surmised. “Yeah okay, that’s worth killing over.”

“Before you guys go all Indiana O’Flaherty on me,” Hagan drawled, “what does that lost treasure have to do with our case?”

Nick took a breath to answer, but he realized he didn’t exactly know. They all looked to JD.

“I… I didn’t say it had anything to do with the robbery,” JD reminded them, his blue eyes going wider. “You gave me three things to associate, I associated them.”

Kelly sat on the edge of Nick’s desk, turned sideways so he could still see Hagan and the computer screen. “What was the other thing stolen from the place? One was the brooch, what was the other?”

Nick tapped Kelly’s knee to get him to scoot over, and he unlocked the desk drawer beneath him and reached in for the file. He set it on the desk and opened it up to find the photos. “It was a bundle of letters.”

“Bundle of letters,” Kelly echoed. “What the hell?”

“Yeah, the brooch I get, it had a few precious gems on it,” Hagan said. “But the letters are… parchment. Tied with twine. No value whatsoever.”

“The value of words is measured by those who read them,” JD told him. He stopped short, scowling hard. “Is that a quote? What is that from? Did I come up with that?”

Nick almost laughed at him. He bit his lip to keep a straight face instead, and held up the photo the bookstore owner’s daughter had provided of the stolen items. Kelly took it from him, looking it over in silence.

“These are Revolutionary War era?” he finally asked. Nick nodded. “Do we know what they said?”

“The daughter said her father had them transcribed once, because the handwriting was hard to decipher. She’s trying to hunt up the file, said she’d email it when she found it. Why, what are you thinking?”

“I mean, if we go on the theory these people are hunting this lost payroll treasure, this makes sense,” Kelly said with a tap of the photo. “These are contemporary accounts. And you said one of the books they stole was a soldier’s diary, right?”

“Yeah, he was at the Battles of Lexington and Concord, and later Bunker Hill.”

“Concord?” JD asked. “After their defeat, several British columns broke off and scattered across the countryside as they retreated along Battle Road to Boston. One of those could easily have intercepted a payroll delivery.”

“Why hide it instead of making off with it?” Hagan asked.

“And desert the British Imperial Army?” JD shook his head, grinning widely. “Might as well take a knife to the eye, you’d live longer. The theory is they hid it somewhere, intending to come back for it when the war was won.”

“Only they didn’t win the war,” Nick said.

JD clucked his tongue. He looked pleased with himself for the first time since they’d met him, but the expression faded quickly. He glanced down at his hands, twisting his fingers together.

“You okay, bud?” Kelly asked him.

JD gave them a weak attempt at a smile. “I know more about this than I do about myself.”

“You do know a lot more about this than most,” Kelly agreed. “At least you can remember it; that’s a good sign.”

Nick raised his head as an idea hit him. “Do they fingerprint college professors?” he asked Hagan.

Hagan pursed his lips. “Not to my knowledge. Some universities are starting to, but only for new hires.”

“School’s out, right? What if he’s a professor at a local college? If he lived alone, no one might know he was gone until classes start back.”

“No missing persons report would be filed yet,” Hagan said with a nod.

“Send his photo out to every institution in a fifty mile radius. See if we can get a hit.”

“On it,” Hagan said, and he lurched out of his chair.

“College professor, huh?” JD said quietly. “Not international treasure thief. You’re awfully optimistic, Detective.”

“That’s what we love about him,” Kelly said, and when Nick raised his head, Kelly’s eyes were on him, a gentle smile gracing his lips. Nick squeezed his knee, keeping his hand there.

“What’s the next move?” JD asked. If he was uncomfortable with Nick and Kelly’s small shows of affection, he didn’t let on.

“After you work with the sketch artist, we’ll get you somewhere safe. The
Fiddler’s Green
should do the trick, just need to get the captain to sign off on it.”

JD scowled, biting his lip instead of saying anything.

“What?”

“I just… if these people are trying to kill me, the only way I’ll really be safe is if they’re caught. We should try to find the treasure they’re after.”

Nick laughed and scratched at his chin. “Find the treasure.”

“Right?” JD asked eagerly. “We find the treasure, we find them, and I don’t have to duck in alleyways anymore.”

“I get you, I do,” Nick offered. “But I’m a cop, man, not a treasure hunter. I told you I’d keep you safe, that I’d find out who you are, and that’s what I intend to do.”

JD sat back in his plastic chair, nodding dejectedly. A few moments later the sketch artist arrived, and she took JD into one of the interrogation pods where they could work.

Kelly slid into the chair, his knee knocking against Nick’s thigh as he slouched. “Why did you play dumb with him?” Kelly asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?”

“The Battle of Bunker Hill. Lexington and Concord. Missing treasure right here under your nose in Boston. Look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t know anything about any of that, you goddamn history nerd.”

Nick’s lips twitched, and he sighed heavily. “I knew I’d regret fucking someone who’s known me for over a decade.”

Kelly snickered quietly, waiting for an answer.

“I wanted him to give us the information,” Nick explained. “I wanted to see if he’d be right, for one, if he’d omit anything important. Or lie.”

Kelly remained silent, watching him. Nick slid his hand over Kelly’s knee. “You’re dying to go digging into that treasure story, aren’t you?”

Nick nodded fervently, not even trying to deny it.

Kelly laughed, throwing his head back. He slumped further in the chair, and his knee slid along Nick’s thigh. Nick cleared his throat and glanced around the room, shifting uncomfortably.

“So what’s our
real
next move?”

“Julian Cross.” Nick leaned forward, his hand squeezing Kelly’s knee. “He’s out there for a reason, showing himself; we just need to bring him in. How do you feel about a little bait and switch?”

Kelly licked his lips, then grinned slowly. “Sounds about as fun as you bending me over one of those interrogation desks.”

Nick groaned and pushed his chair back so they were no longer in contact. “Don’t fucking tempt me, okay? Those rooms have video feeds.”

“Really? Do they record?”

Nick had to get up and walk away as Kelly laughed merrily at his desk. “You’re killing me, Kels,” he called over his shoulder. “
Killing
me!”

Kelly left before Hagan came back, and before JD was done with the sketch artist. He headed out of the front of the building, taking his time as he strolled toward the parking lot where Nick’s Range Rover was parked. He removed his black leather jacket and tossed it into the car, then rummaged in the backseat for Nick’s green canvas jacket instead. It was too big at the chest, but it didn’t envelop him. He gave his shoulders a shake and pulled the coat tighter around him as he meandered out of the parking lot. He wandered along the quaint little side streets of Boston, enjoying the architecture, window-shopping until he was near the station again. He leaned against the side of a building, standing near a pillar and watching.

They had put JD in Nick’s suit coat again, covering his shaggy blond hair with the pilfered Red Sox hat and walking him down the back alley behind the police station toward Nick’s Range Rover.

Nick walked alongside him, his hand loose on JD’s elbow. Kelly knew himself well enough to know he was a little jealous of the chemistry Nick and JD seemed to have. But he also knew Nick well enough to know he didn’t need to be worried.

He reminded himself what he was supposed to be doing, and he glanced around the area, watching the shadows, watching the narrows. Nick was supposed to lead JD into a bottleneck, where a fence jutted out near a big blue dumpster
and would force them to veer toward the entrance to a side alley, and that was where Kelly headed.

He was almost too late. As soon as Nick and JD neared the alley, Nick shoved JD to the side and pulled his gun, obviously seeing something coming out of the corner of his eye.

Kelly moved with lightning speed, hitting the big man from the side and wrapping him up as they fell. He rolled with him, then let him loose, sending him into an uncontrolled tumble as Kelly hopped to his feet. Before Julian Cross could right himself, Kelly was on him again. He kicked at his chest, and Julian blocked the blow, but he wasn’t fast enough to block the next one when Kelly came up with a roundhouse kick that caught him in the side of the head and sent him sprawling.

Julian was on his hands and knees, pushing himself to his feet, and Kelly went at him again. Julian was at least four inches taller than he was, but Kelly didn’t care. Size had never fazed him before. He aimed high this time, landing a few blows around the ribs and kidneys, missing a few as Julian blocked them. Then Kelly went in for the kill, leaping at Julian with a kick to the chest that should’ve leveled him. Julian brought up both hands, though, catching Kelly’s foot. Kelly went with the momentum, kicking off the ground and using Julian’s hold on him for leverage. He caught Julian under the chin as he flipped himself backward, and he landed in a crouch several feet from his opponent.