Nowhere to Turn (22 page)

We went back to Henri's place. While Henri made tea, Beej wandered around the house, staring at all the paintings. Her jaw dropped when I told her that Henri was the artist.

“Beej is a photographer and videographer,” I told Henri. “You should see her stuff.”

Henri asked her about her work. Beej answered shyly. And when Henri invited her upstairs to see her studio, Beej's face lit up. While she was gone, Nick and Ben and I sat at Henri's dining room table. I filled Nick in on what we had found out.

“Are you sure?” Nick said. “Does that even make sense?”

“They all knew where you were staying,” I said. “Elliot had you checked out, remember? He hired a private investigator. He must have followed you to the warehouse.”

“But Earl saw him the day before the robbery,” Nick said. “How does that help?”

“It proves that someone not only knew where you lived but was actually there—maybe the day before the robbery and the day of. When you came back from the hotel that afternoon, you didn't see a crowbar anywhere, did you?”

Ben gave me a baffled look.

Nick shook his head. “But I didn't look for one, either,” he said. “I dug out my bag and headed out to meet Beej. She insisted I come to her place when she found out where I was staying. So I took my stuff over there. Then I—.” He hesitated and looked at Ben. He'd been going to say that then he went to my dad's place and climbed onto the roof. “Anyway, I slept at Beej's that night. On the couch. The cops showed up the next day and arrested me.”

Beej came back downstairs.

“Have you seen Henri's studio?” She was clearly impressed. “She said I was welcome to come over anytime. She probably doesn't mean it, right?”

“Of course she means it. Henri loves people who love art,” I said.

Beej sank down onto a chair to digest this.

“I still don't get it,” Nick said. “If Earl's right, why did that guy at the mall try to scare me into handing over the coins? Why did he attack you for the same reason?”

Ben looked at me. “You never said anything about that guy wanting stolen coins.”

“I didn't want to worry you,” I said, even though that wasn't the real reason.

“You think he was trying to make sure I looked guilty?” Nick said.

The thought had occurred to me. Now I wasn't so sure.

“I think someone's looking for those coins and really believes you know where they are,” I said. “I think that's why Beej's place was broken into.”

“What?” I hadn't told Nick about that. I guess Beej hadn't, either. He looked at her, concerned.

“Someone trashed my place,” she said. “No big deal. It's not like we had a lot of expensive stuff or anything.”

When Nick frowned, I explained. “You were found with just a few coins on you—the least valuable ones. The rest of the coins weren't recovered. Someone must have thought that you stashed them. When they didn't find the coins, they threatened you.”

“So now what?” Beej said.

“We should call the police,” Ben said.

“We don't have anything credible to tell them,” I explained gently, “except that Earl, who knows Beej, who's a friend of Nick's, says he recognizes a jacket that he saw near the building before the theft even happened. But there must be something we can do.”

“Like what?” Beej said.

We all looked at one another. No one said a word.

Eventually Beej had to go. “But you know where to find me if you need me, right, Nick?”

Nick nodded.

Ben glanced at his watch. “I have to go too. I'm supposed to babysit my sister. Are you coming, Robyn?”

I shook my head. “I promised my dad that I would stay here.”

Ben looked across the table at Nick. I could tell he didn't want to leave me, but what could he do? I walked him to the door.

Henri, Nick, and I had an early, awkward dinner. Henri was talkative, as usual. Nick was polite, but he directed all of his comments at Henri and didn't look at me once. After eating, he offered to clean up. When he finished, he retreated to his room. Henri gave me a look but didn't say anything. I stayed at the table and thought about what Earl had seen and what Isobel had told me. I thought about Mr. Schuster too and wondered what would happen if Elliot couldn't find Orion a good home. What would Mr. Schuster do then? Would he really refuse to go to a home?

I wondered if anyone had taken Orion for a walk that day but couldn't imagine that Elliot had managed to find a dog walker so quickly. Orion was probably cooped up in the basement again. Poor, poor Orion...

That gave me an idea.

It was only seven o' clock. If I hurried, I could make it. I called to Henri that I was going out for a while. Nick came out of his room and watched me pull on my coat.

“Going to hang with the boyfriend after all, huh?” he said.

“No. I'm—”

“It's okay,” he said. “You don't owe me any explanation.”

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” I said. “You'll still be here, right? Because I need you to be here, Nick. It's important.”

He nodded curtly.

“I'd take you with me now if I could,” I said.

“Whatever.”

“Please be here when I get back, Nick.”

“I said I would be. What's the matter? Don't you trust me?”

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

N

ick was in Henri's living room flipping through a magazine when I got back an hour later. He didn't look up as I came through the door.

“I'm going to need your help a little later,” I said.

He stopped flipping pages.

“I wouldn't ask,” I said, “but this is something I can't do by myself.”

“Why don't you ask what's-his-name?” he said.

“Because it's something only you can do.” I could tell he wanted to ask what it was, but his pride wouldn't let him. “It's been a long day, and my arm hurts. I'm going to take a nap. I'll knock on your door when I'm ready. Okay?”

He didn't say yes. But he didn't say no, either.

Nick was fully dressed when he answered my knock later that night. He didn't ask why I wanted his help. He didn't even say a word until we got back, and then the only thing he said was, “Are you sure Henri won't mind?”

“Pretty sure,” I said. “Nothing ever throws her. 'Night, Nick.”

“Robyn?”

I turned to face him. He looked at me for what seemed like an eternity.

“What's wrong with me?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because I'm broke all the time? Is that why you didn't wait for me? Or would you have gone for him anyway, even if I hadn't left?”

“I didn't know where you were, Nick. You just took off. You told Beej you were going. You even told Mr. Schuster. Why didn't you tell me?”

“Didn't tell you?” He looked baffled. “What are you talking about? It was all in the letter.”

“Letter? What letter?”

“The one I wrote you. The longest thing I ever wrote.”

“Why didn't you just call me?”

“I thought you'd get mad—I knew you would. You would've told me not to go. But I had to.”

“So you wrote a letter?”

“Yeah.”

“I never got it.”

He stared at me. “But I took it to your house myself. I wanted to make sure you got it as soon as you got back from your trip.”

“I never got any letter, Nick. My mom would have told me.”

“I went to your house. I was putting it in the mailbox when this man came out.”

“Man? You mean Ted?”

“He didn't say who he was. He looked like a handyman. He said he was doing some work for your mom.”

“Zeke.” Zeke had been doing odd jobs for my mother since before she and my father separated. She'd hired him to install built-in bookshelves and cupboards in the basement as part of her continual quest to have a place for everything and keep everything in its place. “Big man, gray hair, paint-splattered overalls?”

“That's him,” Nick said. “He said he'd put the letter inside where it'd be safe.”

“What did it say?”

“That I had to go out west for a while and that I wasn't sure how long I'd be gone. I left a number where you could call me when you got back—you know, after you got over being mad. But you never called.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

He looked down at the floor.

“No more lies, Nick, remember?”

“I would've. But I got locked up.”

“Locked up? What for? What did you do?”

His eyes flashed as they met mine again. “See? That's what I wanted to avoid—you talking to me that way, assuming I must have done something wrong.”

I tried to calm down, but it was hard because he was telling the story in bits and pieces instead of just laying it all out.

“Why were you locked up, Nick?”

“It doesn't matter anymore. Not when I'm probably going to end up there again.”

He started to close the door. I pushed it open and stepped inside.