The Art Of Deception, Book Two, Stolen Hearts series, Romantic Suspense (17 page)

He should feel relieved. He didn’t. He felt tired and angry and frustrated as hell.

He felt as though he’d lost his best friend.

Two hours later, Gage looked disparagingly at the messages stacked on his old metal desk and plunked down in his chair with a weary sigh. He’d spent way too much time on the art forgery. His caseload was backing up on him. Another reason to bow out and let someone else work it. He’d feel a lot better if that someone was Chance Spencer, though.

As if the mere thought of his friend had conjured him out of thin air, Spencer ambled down the row of desks toward him, stopping at every second or third desk to exchange a greeting with other agents.

“You look like hell." Spencer tossed a brown envelope on Gage’s desk when he finally arrived, then sat in the chair opposite him. He propped his feet up on the edge of the desk and folded his arms up behind his head.

“Can’t say the same for you. Great tan. You go south or something?”

“It’s April. Don’t tell me you haven’t had time to stop and smell the flowers."

He admired and respected Spencer. Truly he did, but the man looked entirely too happy–-smug, for God’s sake–and Gage himself was about as far from happy as a person could get.

“You drop by just to tell me how wonderful your life is? ‘Cause I gotta tell you Spencer, I’m not in the mood." He leaned forward and started shifting through his messages. Damn, he was behind on some of his cases. Parker was not going to be happy with him.

“Brought you a little present." Spencer smiled that killer smile of his that made men want to be his best friend, and women.... Gage sighed again. Unlike him, Spencer rarely had a problem with women. They lined up ready to accept anything he would give them. Which wasn’t much more than a wink and a smile since he’d married Sarah.

“I thought you were busy with Sarah and the baby. What’s with this?” Gage flicked at the envelope with his finger.

“Relatives." Spencer dropped his feet to the floor and sat forward. “We’ve got them coming out of our freaking ears. Our house is raining with baby showers.”

“Tell them to leave." Gage pulled a sheet of paper out of the envelope.

“Sarah’s getting a kick out of having family around after not having had one for so long. She’s starting to get tired of them, though--I think." A sly smile illuminated his face. “She doesn’t know yet, but I bought a summer cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. As soon as she’s had her fill of relatives, we’ll spend the rest of my break out there.”

Gage could only imagine how much a summer cottage on Martha’s Vineyard cost. Sarah had inherited a small fortune from her mother’s family, but he knew Spencer well enough to guess he would die before spending any of his wife’s money. And Spencer’s stepmother had gone through whatever money his father had left.

Gage eyed his friend speculatively. Spencer had admitted to stealing only the paintings that had been originally stolen from his father’s museum. But there were a couple more thefts of priceless masterpieces that had gone down during that seven year period that had never been solved. If he'd managed to--

His thoughts screeched to a halt as he looked at the paper in his hand. “What the hell?”

“Thought you’d like it." Spencer leaned forward, his arms on the desk.

“Moira Morreli handled the first fake Matisse?”

“You mean there’s another one out there?”

Adrenalin singed Gage’s nerve endings. “Last night, her son, Raphael, was discovered trying to leave the country with another Matisse in his bag. I haven’t heard back yet, but I assume it’s a fake." He chucked the paper onto the cluttered desk top, leaned back in his chair and pressed his fingers to his aching eyes.

“You don’t exactly sound pleased about all this.”

Gage dropped his hands from his eyes, picked up the paper and read Spencer’s notes again. “This doesn’t read like the provenance that came with the painting. Where did you get this information from?”

“Don’t ask. Believe me, it’s more reliable than the information that came with the Matisse.”

“Moira Pascotto bought the Matisse from a Mr. Gary Reynolds, who can’t be located at the moment. No surprise there." Gage sent a grim look to Spencer.

“She sells it to the Avon gallery,” Spencer picked up where he left off. “And they sell the fake to Parker’s ex.”

“Parker’s divorced?”

Spencer snorted. “You haven’t been spending much time in the office lately, have you? He’s in the process of getting a divorce, and I imagine he wants this case wrapped up ASAP. I would if I were in his shoes.”

Gage cursed under his breath. “It’s all so damned complicated."

“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got so far. Sounds like you need to chew this over with someone,” Spencer suggested.

“More like I need my head examined.”

Gage leaned forward and for the next twenty minutes related to his friend everything that had happened since he took over the case. As he ran down the list of evidence stacked up against the Pascotto family, his stomach tightened with dread. Of course they were guilty. A rookie agent could see that on his first day.

“So, all this stuff with Sophie, the alleged drugs and the threatening notes and the sketches, is that for real or a blind?” Spencer asked when he’d finished.

Trust Spencer to go straight to the heart of the problem. What was real? What wasn’t? Gage shot to his feet. “I need more coffee. Want a cup?”

Spencer studied him for a minute, then looked over at the coffee pot. “How long has that pot been on?”

“Don’t know. The longer, the better.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Gage tried not to think as he poured coffee into a white mug. His brain wasn’t exactly razor sharp today. Had he made a mistake telling Spencer everything that had happened? Not reporting the alleged drugs passing through Sophie’s refrigerator could be a sore spot with the Super. Sore, hell. Parker’d rip his head off if or when he found out.

He hurried back to his desk and put his coffee down. “I haven’t reported most of this yet." He scowled as he stood over Spencer.

“Why not?”

When Gage continued to glare at him, Spencer’s face hardened. “Quit trying to intimidate me and sit down. I’m here to help, not get you into deeper trouble.”

The back of his neck heating up, Gage slunk into his chair and took a drink of coffee. The case had him so screwed up, he couldn’t think straight. Spencer was his friend. He’d never rat him out.

He looked across the desk at Spencer. “Sorry. I just...." He gulped more coffee, shoved the mug on the desk and leaned forward. “This has never happened to me before, Spence. If I look at all the facts, only a fool would believe the Pascotto family is innocent, but I can’t...." He looked away. “It doesn’t feel right, damn it.”

“You mean your gut is telling you something different?” Spencer didn’t grin, but Gage heard the smile in his voice all the same.

Before he could argue, Spencer asked another question. “You mean the whole family is innocent or just Sophie? It sounds to me as if there are two separate things going on here.”

Gage sagged back into his chair. “I think someone’s setting Sophie up.”

“And the brother?”

“I want to believe he’s not part of the scam, but I’m not so sure. Sophie says not, but she’s so loyal, she’d say anything to keep Raphael out of jail.”

“She sounds like an interesting woman." Spencer’s words were half question, half statement.

“Yeah." Gage straightened the pile of messages on the desk in front of him.

“Got it bad, huh?”

He glanced over at his friend, then back down to the messages. “I can’t afford to screw up this case.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t suppose you want to come back to work a couple of weeks early?” He held his breath, waiting for Spencer to answer.

Spencer shook his head. “Sorry. I have to take Sarah away for a while. Those old women are going to wear her out trying to out do each other with their tea parties and baby showers.”

“Gage. In my office. Now."

Gage’s spine stiffened as Parker’s words drilled into his back.

“That is one unhappy man." Spencer stood and frowned down at Gage. “Give him as little as possible for now. I think you’re close to cracking this case. Who knows, maybe whoever is pulling those numbers on Sophie is tied into the forgeries as well. Or maybe not. You put someone else on this case, the whole Pascotto clan is in jail before nightfall. You realize that, don’t you?”

Gage stood. “Yeah, I guess I do." He held out his hand. “Thanks, Spencer.”

Spencer shook his hand. “You have my cell number, right?”

“Right." Gage gathered the notes Spencer had brought in and stuffed them into the envelope.

“Any time you need to talk, call me. Sorry I can’t be more help, but I have my family to take care of.”

Gage felt his grim expression soften. “Give Sarah a hug for me. Michael, too.”

“Will do."

Lucky man. Gage watched his friend exit the office. All Spencer had to deal with was overzealous relatives. A hell of a lot simpler than a boss with an angry ex-wife on his back.

Suck it up. Gage steeled himself for the up coming interview as he strode toward Parker’s office. He couldn’t pass the case along to someone else. Not now that there was a link between the first forgery and Sophie’s mother. Sophie would get dragged into the whole sordid mess by implication alone. But if he screwed up, his career could be on the line. For the first time ever, his job would have to come second, or even third in line. He needed to prove that he was still capable of doing the right thing. Sophie didn’t belong in jail. He was sure of that. Or he wanted to be sure of it. If only he had a few facts to back up his convictions.

Sophie hefted the two bags of groceries into her arms and kicked the cab door shut behind her. She turned to survey the neat, little house that sat far back from the street. White with green shutters wasn’t bad, she supposed. A little drab, uber normal. The trees were cool. Two huge trees, maple, maybe, towered in the front yard. Patterns of sunlight and shadow dappled the green grass. On either side of the walk that lead up to the green front door, freshly dug flower beds waited to be planted.

“Are you Sophie?” A small voice called down to her from somewhere up in the trees.

Sophie moved into the yard and squinted up through the leaves to see a small boy perched on a thick branch about twenty feet from the ground. “Are you allowed to do that?” she asked the child.

“Sometimes. I can climb higher. Wanna see?”

“Hang on." She put the groceries down on the walk and leaned back to get a better look. “You’re Andy, right?”

“‘Course. My mom dropped me off. She said you’d get here soon.”

“I don’t think you should go any higher, Andy. I’m not too good at climbing trees, and if you get stuck, we’d be in trouble.”

He looked as if he were considering her comment. “Uncle Vince could help me down when he comes home,” he said solemnly.

She had no doubt that Gage could rescue his nephew without raising a sweat. But she wasn’t certain what kind of reception she was going to get from him as it was, and she imagined letting his nephew scamper through the trees like a monkey wouldn’t exactly make him more receptive.

“Can you get down from where you are?”

“Ye-ah." He pronounced the word as if it had two syllables, his voice filled with disgust.

“Good. I need help with the groceries." She picked up one bag and proceeded up the walk to the front steps. Did that work with kids–assuming they’d follow if you kept going?

When she’d phoned Gage’s sister for directions to his house, Maisie had promptly jumped on the chance to dump her son on her. She’d tried to explain she didn’t know the first thing about taking care of kids, but Maisie assured her Andy was capable of taking care of himself. Sophie hoped so. She was nervous enough as it was showing up unannounced to cook dinner for Gage.

When she heard small footsteps behind her, she grinned. She should be grateful Andy was here. If she had to wait alone for Gage to come home, she’d probably tuck tail and run. It had taken an entire day to convince herself she could do this.